High on Happiness

Posts Tagged ‘Heaven’

March had barely pulled back spring’s curtain before the chorus girls hit the stage.   We weren’t prepared at all, expecting a gradual start to the show.

Who would have imagined that hundreds of blossoms would burst on the scene, opening in perfect coordination!

We oooo’ed and ahhhh’d at the sight of them as they twirled on their branches beneath a cloud-dappled sky, their pink skirts flying in the breeze.

Robins came to serenade them, and bees darted from bloom to bloom, sure they were in heaven.

We, who could hardly believe our eyes, conceded.  The bees were right; it was the only explanation.

As she pulled her cocoon around her, the tiny caterpillar had no idea what to expect.   She only knew that she had climbed a thousand stems and feasted on countless green, juicy leaves, and that she was quite ready for a long, unbroken sleep.

Last night, as she lay curled beneath the forest of towering grasses waiting for the dawn, a magnificent winged being appeared in her dreams and, in a voice more beautiful than any she had ever heard, told her it was time to prepare for her transformation.

Her cocoon was soft and welcoming and soon she drifted off into a sea of shifting colors and sweet sounds.

When at last she woke, she discovered that she was in a wholly different body than the one she wore before.  It felt strong, and it longed for sunlight and freedom.  And it was hungry, too.   She moved her new legs and pushed her way through a crack in the wall of her cocoon.

At first, she was dazed by the light.  It was far brighter than she remembered and filled with dancing colors.  She struggled to balance herself as she lifted her last foot from the cocoon, eager to see more.  But she could barely move.  A layer of wet, golden fabric of some sort was attached to her back and weighing her down.  She would, she decided, rest for a bit and get her bearings.

The morning sun felt warm and welcoming, and she gazed in wonder at the glistening world into which she had emerged.  Slowly the moisture dried from the fixtures on her back, and she discovered to her amazement that they were, in fact, wings.   She felt her life force pumping into them, spreading them wide.  And when she followed the urge to move them, she suddenly found herself airborne and flitting above the jeweled sea below her.

She somersaulted in the morning air, darting among the goldenrod and grasses, rising higher and higher, then darting down into the billowing ocean of grains and buds below.

Finally, after she had flown for several minutes, a spot of purple caught her eye.  “Why, that must be breakfast!” she said, feeling drawn to its royal hues.   And as she alighted on its feathery petals, she saw its pools of sweet nectar gleaming in the sun.

She hardly knew which was more beautiful, the taste of the nectar or the ornate design of the flower’s buds.  She only knew that this jeweled new world was heaven and that she was exceedingly blessed.

As we ascend through the dimensions, I once read, rising from heaven to heaven, our bodies acquire new capabilities so that we can perceive the multitudinous wonders of our ever-expanding experience.   Instead of merely five senses, for example, we would one day have seventeen.

Imagine!  I think I’d need a different body  – much larger, much stronger – to hold that much joy.

The beauty that is here before us now is almost too much to withstand.

Look, right here, in a couple square feet of creek bed: sky spread across smooth waters, the papery layers on a fallen branch of birch and the deep shadows it casts, strewn pebbles, wet leaves, the glints of sunlight on the dancing wavelets, the colors meant for an artist’s eye.

And oh, the music of it all, the clicking of the rolling pebbles, the roar of the rushing, snow-fed creek, the wind in the branches of the trees, the sharp cawing of crows.

The cold air brushing against my cheeks and my skin soaking in the sun’s warmth despite it.  The wind whipping my hair and carrying the fragrance of the leaves and the water and the soil.   The give of the earth beneath my boots, the smooth slipperiness of the mud.

All this, in the lowest of all heavens, the one where the light barely shines through the thickness of our darkly clouded minds at all, except in rare moments.

I walk along the creek bed and practice.

The October afternoon spills its sunshine through the branches of the trees and tumbles down the hill in long shadows.  On the ground, the fallen leaves play hide and seek in the ever- changing light.

My friend and I walk beneath the gold and crimson boughs painting stories from our lives for one another.  Some of the sketches make us laugh; some make us sigh.  Sometimes we walk in silence, as friends do, comforted by our companionship.

As we round a bend in the trail, the sun backlights the gold of a maple, mesmerizing us with its glow.  “Sometimes,” my friend says, “I think God gives us glimpses of heaven.  You know, the golden streets and golden cities and all.  Just a little glimpse.  Don’t you think?”

A bit farther down the path, where everything is shaded and wearing muted colors, we spot a big toad and stop to play with him for awhile.  He’s dry and cool in our hands and his big eyes bulge as he studies our faces.  He’ll tell his grandchildren, we suppose, that once he was abducted by aliens, right here where the white ash leans against the red oak.

We linger a little while in the parking lot, watching the reflection of the treetops in the puddles and the way the sunshine spills through the branches and tumbles down the hill.  Then we get in our separate cars and drive back to our separate lives, the bond of our friendship stretching between us.

The dirt road that winds down the hill, I notice, is, like the day and like our lives, a dance of light and shadow.

My gift to you today is a quote from Fra Giovanni Giocondo, an Italian architect, engineer and archeologist from the 15th Century.   His message is my own, and I share it with you with deep happiness. . .

“I am your friend and my love for you goes deep.  There is nothing I can give you which you have not got.  But there is much, very much, that, while I cannot give it, you can take.

“No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today.
Take heaven!

“No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instant.
Take peace!

“The gloom of the world is but a shadow.
Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy.”

Indeed.  Reach for joy.