Thursday, March 29, 2007
The guide told me
I think my clumsy efforts at Haiku help my mind do what it does not want to do, simplify, instead of to elaborate upon elaboration. That got me to thinking, simply, of the cross. The cross as symbol. The cross barebones. Horizontal. Vertical. And then the what it's all about. The intersection of the horizontal with the vertical. Jesus. And the horizontal, the material plane, that we wake to and dwell in and get hungry in and think in and feel in and will in and touch in and sneeze in and are baffled in. And the vertical, the spiritual, that we may or may not even be aware of. The invisible. The immaterial. For some the great unknown, or the great un-thought of. For many life begins and ends on the horizontal plane of the cross. They never meet up with the intersection, that place where they must halt in their tracks and look up, either in awe, or fear, or in bafflement. For me Jesus was there. At the crossroads. At the intersection. A guide. If I dared. To leave the horizontal and venture into the vertical. Could I leave the comfort of the world of nouns and explore the world of verbs? And so that symbol, the barebones horizontal line drawn in the sand and then the simple vertical line drawn cross it in the sand. In my daily walk in the horizontal world my eye is ever on alert to create crosses whenever two lines cross. Two limbs intersect. Two roads intersect. The intersecting of the grout between the ceramic tiles, a field of crosses! Each a reminder from the guide that life is more than what takes place on the horizon, for even there, daily, the sun breaks the horizon in two, and rises. The lifegiver of the horizontal plane, the sun, rises to the vertical. Just as the guide told me.