Wednesday dawns brightly, but uncomfortably cool and breezy. It has been a miserable week for me spiritually as yet another messiah fails me, making me wonder if it is me that is the problem, or if is just because there are a lot of narcissists out there who desire to be my guru. From the guru, I can easily walk away. But what do I do about his disciples that I have fallen in love with?
My soul is so unquiet around this. Yet æons ago I was warned in an interstice between the worlds that there would be those whose message is excellent, whose scholarship is impeccable, whose words tantalize and draw people, but an undefinable false note would run through the chords of their song.
I have perhaps a decade left in me, maybe two if some strength returns. I had thought that the bat kol I heard would have been fulfilled in the spring of my youth, not in my dotage. What to do?
Well, for the moment, there is a lush eye aching green view out my window, there is a happy parakeet singing and burbling by my desk, three playful dogs are romping through the house, and a women dressed in fine linen and purple who brings me coffee. All sufficient unto the day …