When Prayer Becomes Visionary


I started walking again New Years Day ~ 6 miles a day, when the day allows.

On New Years day I had walked about 2 miles at a fair pace with the lamb ~ sublimely aware of the weather both inside and out.  Lost in the terrain of my unthinking-thinking whilst the music acted as a subliminal distraction ~ a little like reciting the Hail Mary whilst the mind drifts deeper, then-deeper-still ~ past the verbal mandala ~ to a place that takes on it own subconscious meditational prayer.

It was really weird ~  so much so that after it happened I was confused as to how and what had happened ~ it was so very real . . . .?

I was approaching the old Grade 1 listed church, and from a distance I could see all the many cars parked along the wall, and the little slip road around the triangular patch of grass which marks the junction.  There were no people to be seen, which meant that the church was packed with the worshippers ~ I could sense them all on the inside in fellowship and community ~ in thanks-giving and celebration ~ and Worship ~ Together All Warmth ~ and Heart ~ and Sharing.     Complete.

And I wasn’t a part of it  . . .  And nobody knew but God and me.

. . . .  And I felt an overwheming grey Sadness swallow over me in bereavement.  Not as in a hole in the pit of my stomach filled with aching and greyness and sadness.  But an aching grey sadness which permeated the whole of me ~ not just my physical ~ but the emotional ~ the mental ~ and the spiritual me ~ leaving nothing in its mercy.
Awash with sadness.

And yet somehow it was ok and I was held.

I don’t know how long I was thinking this for before I reached the church and surfaced from my Sadness ~ but from the place of sight to the actual ancient building (built upon lay-lines) it couldn’t have been any further than a couple of hundred metres.  I was walking continuously at a fair pace.  And yet when I got there I was suddenly wrenched from the dream which actually was not a dream at all but a vision ~ For there were no cars at all.   And yet I saw them with my own eyes ~ However all the lanes were empty ~ Deffinately no cars ~ The church was empty, no one was there at all ~ it was as still and empty as anything ~ and yet what I had seen and felt and experienced was absolutely real.

I was suddenly brought to sharp attention like having a bucket of cold water thrown upon me.  I was both shocked and confused at the incomprehensible clarity and yet contrast of the two realities.   I couldn’t make sense of the distinction.  Both as vivid, one from the other ~ and yet the very real vision appeared not to be the vision upon my awaking. Which left me with an acute question as to what was real and what was unreal.  I walked on and as I considered my state of mind, I considered those who are deranged and I considered this not to be the case, and I wondered and I pondered and I believed.

I was in a place of all-powerful prayer.

And its enough just to know that I was there without making any sense of it.

This morning I was in the shower ~ the showers are getting longer and longer.  Its my time of prayer where no-one can seemingly interrupt me ~ even when they interrupt me. I pull the shower curtain closed ~ I sit in the enclosed bath tub like I am sitting in Gods enclosed hands ~  I turn my face up towards the force of the water falling from the full height of the shower ~ and as it reigns down upon me I am transported to the deepest place of prayer.  I have no idea how but try it yourself ~ see ~ feel the wonder.  Every time I am lost in prayer so deep ~ so sublime ~ I have no idea how long is passing by.

This morning for some reason I needed touch.  I buried my face in the flow of water, in deepest prayer, and as I did so I allowed the power of the life-giving water to pummel my philtrum.  After a while to relieve the numbing I tipped my head back a little further and opened my mouth.  I let the water run into in my throat and out of the corners of my mouth ~ quenching any thirst.   Then I closed my lips and tipped my head back further still, giving the water permission to beat upon my throat ~ it ran down my body and comforted me warm between my thighs ~ and all the while I was praying.   I offered all of me up unto Him ~ and I thought of Him giving me my life ~ and of me giving my life to Him ~ and I thought of the way things have turned out ~ and of the turning still to be done in the waiting ~ And I thought of God making Love to me . . .  through my prayer . . . through my beloved . . .  through the watery veil . . .  through the waiting . . .


About mags

Beloved apostle of His Soul x
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