It happened again last night and it starts like this: Drifting off into a dream patch I am gripped by a vivid image and with a swooping gut sensation I’m dragged into wakefulness. Then the worst of the stuff in my head starts to ooze to the surface. Thoughts blup up in ever increasing black ugly bubbles. The errupting fumes wend their dirty way through my mind. Hours pass as I float adrift on the swirling muck of resentment or fear. I try to fight using self talk and prayer in order to tease myself back into sleep but I’m maddened furthur when the battle stretches the hours one into the next. As the morning dawns, the bottomless sinkhole melts away into petty puddles, hardly worth mentioning.
Illumination brings perspective, a lamp for my feet and a light for my path.
Then a daffodil’s golden halo nods bravely to me as it shuns the day’s greyness – it’s a gift from the Creator who has sought me, His child. I long to be able to walk with newness and constancy so I briefly lift my eyes from myself and look to the source of light which draws me towards beauty. Psalm 119 pours it’s cleansing balm and leaves a trail of peace in its wake.