Let the Mystery Be…

(About a dozen years ago Iris DeMent became a favorite.  She has a unique special appeal!)

In the higher regions of our minds and spirits there exist truths that can only be glimpsed. The place where mysteries reside.  George MacDonald writes about these places.  He has been called a modern mystic.  That is why he intrigues us so.  Those places are mysteries to our rational consciousness.  Fantasy worlds that are just another dimension beyond the four senses of our present reality.  

Are those regions fantasy worlds? Or are they where the real Truths lay?  Albert Einstein said that ‘Time is an Illusion’ implying that this fabric of space-time may not be the whole reality.  He obviously saw this reality more completely than we do.  MacDonald, Lewis, Chesterton and other writers transport us into these mystical regions in their fantasies and other works.  These writers believed that in our imaginations can lay profound truths. Their fantasies take us to these places  boldly giving us snippets or a sneak peek of our total reality.  Exploring these regions can be exhilarating.  

There are more dimensions and realities that can be known solely by our senses.  Places exist beyond our touch, sight and hearing.  I believe that mystery.  I suppose that we will let the mystery be not because we lack the desire to know those Truths but because in our present state we are incapable of little more than ‘glimpses.’

Iris believes, “In Love and lives her life accordingly.” It’s as simple as that…So let the mystery be! 

A few days after this post I read this, which says better what have written:

“All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it—tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest—if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself—you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say ‘Here at last is the thing I was made for.’ We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.”  CS Lewis

I write this on the open back porch with Lexi as squirrels and birds gather in the herb bed just a few paces away to feed …