Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Road to Damascus

I was not struck blind. I did not see the angel of heaven. I never heard a voice. It's strange how a lifetime of living a certain way can take its toll on you. Sometimes you feel so weighed down with everything that you just can't get back to the surface and breath in that cool, sweet air. Sometimes you live on a line so long you lose your sensitivity to the third dimension. I think that this is where I was. I am not sure if my affliction, my deep-seated torment, was obvious to most folks, but I know some on the inside of my world could tell. I was heading for a fall, or perhaps I had already fallen. In such a condition it is hard to judge for yourself what is up and what is down. To me it was all inky darkness and no direction seemed worth following or looking twice at. Doubled over in pain, crying, uncertain, and lost, I made a silent appeal. Immediately a wave of peace that surpassed all understanding washed over me from my head to my feet and I was alive. All I had to do was ask, the gift was there all along.