A Consuming Fire

"For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it." —Christ

"Deos facturus qui homines erant, homo factus est qui Deus erat." —Athanasius

We shall all be united with the Divine—eventually, and by diverse, winding paths, after the consummation of the ages.

For the Unknown (and Unknowable) God is a consuming fire. Some, perhaps many of us, are bound to take a longer path: the Divine Light can only seem an affront to our carefully cultivated personae, and so we flinch and flee from it. In thrall to spirits themselves in flight from the Alpha and Omega, we throng the spring of Lethe, drowning in forgetfulness and returning again to walk that fraught road among the exiles.

But others, perhaps more fortunate, recognize in the divine powers the expression and full flowering of the Good, the mark of Divine Eros, the same that generates the worlds. Partaking of Eunoe, they bask in the Divine Light and return to the source, to assist in the labors of angels, until the restoration of all things.

Three short dreams

I dreamed my family and I were on a train, heading across the country to Los Angeles. It was very clean and sleek inside, with few other passengers. We were, apparently, trying to find a fancy hamburger joint out there, but I'm not sure we ever did.

*

I dreamed my brother and I were in the periferia of Roma at a two-story corner building, the same sort of color of most of things in Rome. We were waiting for our relatives to arrive for lunch. The place was a restaurant on the first floor and apartments above. Only the owners were there: an Asian lady with auburn hair who spoke impeccable, precise Italian, and her husband, who looks like a taller version of my cousin who works at Fiumicino. They gave us menus, which were faded and encased in plastic. There was a lot of stuff on the menu, but no other customers...not a good sign. My relatives were nowhere in sight. My brother and I sat there, brooding, considering a getaway.

*

I dreamed I was sitting on a porch in the twilight, holding a large, purple dog with dark spots, taut hair. It was one of those dogs that seemed to actually be smiling. My daughter stood behind me, holding an orange, long-haired cat, dancing slowly.