It is a magical place ... it is a quiet place. It is a place where the lower order of things from within me meets up with the higher order of things. It has a visual, for me: a stream, a rock wall, a hill that goes up from the stream and well past the wall, a very clear blue summer’s afternoon sky. There is an oak tree that stands just near the edge of the wall. I go there in my mind’s eye to be with my God, and sit under the tree by the stream and feel the warmth of the summer’s afternoon’s sun on every cell, every fiber, every tissue of my being. I go there to replenish myself from the rigors of being me.
I was there one day just sitting there under the tree by the stream, feeling the warmth of the sun on my body when I thought to ask a question. Just offer it out into the ethers and see what happens. So I did, “What is a spiritual being?” simple question. Then from all around me I could feel this deep presence. I was enveloped ... Something like fish discovering water ... I mean suddenly I knew I was not alone. Something very real was now with me:
“Butterflies are spiritual ... as are snakes ... spiders and whales ...”
I absorbed this on that afternoon ... the other thing that came to mind was that it was always there all I had to do was ask ... then listen ... absorb ... that was a lesson in and of itself, so much to absorb. Now the task was what do I do with all this stuff? ... I had asked another question:
Then it all subsided as quietly as it came upon me and I was left with me sitting under the tree by a mystical stream in a quiet place in my mind.