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CREATIVE
Excerpt from A Higgledy-Piggledy
Diary
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Mystical Experience
At this point it would be proper to admit the question, have I had a
mystical experience?  Yes, but oh so briefly.  Mine was a feeling, not
an image in any conventional sense; and it was overwhelming.  I
have always had a fascination with churches, even though I remain
wary of the institution.  The two appear inseparable.  In its two
thousand year history the Church has been at the core shaping the
culture I dropped into some forty years ago, and in this aspect
much of my life was decided before I was born.  Throughout Europe
every hamlet, village, town and city has such a building, seemingly
a focal point within the community of eternal authority.  Indeed,
whether great or small churches insist upon a reverence we
intuitively respect.  Each one is built upon a specific foundation -
sanctified ground, the energy lines of the earth - and laid out
according to the schemata of a crucified saviour congruent with the
four points of the compass; plus they contain magnificent artwork
depicting man’s connection to God through His intermediary angels. 
All this represents a secret knowledge purposefully guiding the
contents of our souls.  It is reputed that Hitler once said, “He who
controls Bohemia controls Europe” - but visit Prague, the heart of
Bohemia, and note that neither Nazis nor communists dared inflict
one crumb of substantial damage to the great churches there. 
Anyway, about ten years ago and with my then wife, one evening
we happened to stroll into Westminster Cathedral in Victoria,
London.  It is a Catholic institution, which is neither here nor there,
as I had been here before.  A large place with heavy woods forming
the inner-decorative structure, it must have been an Indian summer
with golden hues softening the ambience.  Upon entering the
building, close by is a statue of the Virgin Mary - Christianity’s
symbol for Sophia.  I do not know why but I had an urge to kneel
down and pray before her.  My wife wandered off, or so I thought,
and at the very moment when down on my knees, and I clasped my
hands together and closed my eyes, an intense feeling of sinking
overwhelmed my heart, all other senses obliterated.  For the
briefest of moments I plummeted into what felt like the bliss of the
world.  (I could say protection, but then this would imply danger,
and absolutely there was no other than a feeling of total bliss.) 
Suddenly, in a succeeding instant thought - my thoughts - raced in. 
I grew afraid, rapidly.  It is immaterial that I recount this here,
now, which is afterwards, and in writing express a sense of
movement, of time.  The mystery is that all this happened in two
instants only, connected not in quality of sensation but by narrative
necessity.  The first instant remains eternal: I sank deeper and
deeper into an ever more perfect state of bliss.  But then I was
losing all sense of myself, a frightening prospect, and in a
succeeding instant, in my very awareness of thought, instead of
submergence within total feeling, space and time re-intervened, the
feeling escaped me, and I was left with a sense of fear.  Bizarrely,
this is survival’s instinct.  In somewhat a state of shock my eyes
prised open, and once more cathedral stone was my immediate
world, all mundane life beyond.  I turned and stood up, and
although she never spoke a word it seemed my wife, who was
watching, knew what I now know.  That’s it.  So much for ineffable
mystical experiences.  Still, a glimpse of feeling remains, and it is
lovely.


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...and I will
share with
you a
profound
truth
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