"To see heaven through the eyes of God and to feel my body lifted by the wings of angels."
I feel intimidated when these lines and many like them come to me. They seem pretentious and express a kind of spiritual audacity that I have neither the authority nor credential to claim. I do take solace believing they are sourced from the part of me that is rooted in the tradition of the mystic poet. Even though I have no religious ties, I feel a presence and an energy that I can only describe in spiritual terms. The more I claim the identity of the transformational poet, the more comfort I feel with these sentiments and the more inclined I am to put them into poems and share them with the world.
Actually, I was amused by the above line: to see heaven through the eyes of god. Of course, some would say that is total blasphemy, but it seemed an opportunity to exercise a little imagination. To us mortals, heaven is unimaginable bliss and beauty, but to god, it may be nothing special, a place so familiar that it hardly seems noteworthy. Does god dream a higher heaven? Does god long for a place of peace free from the entry pleas of us mortals, from the clamoring of abandoned spirits, and from all the duties of a deity? Does eternal bliss eventually equate with a kind of boredom?
We humans are trapped in our maps and can only conceive things in human terms. To see heaven through the eyes of god can only be imagined, or is limited to our imagination, which is the only vehicle we have to go beyond the limits of our senses and the confines of our world. In a strange twist, for the human heart, imagination is our god.
I know I have been filled with an otherwordly presence, a vastness of being so far beyond my flesh and blood that it seems it cannot be the conjuring of my creative neurology and must reflect a truth outside of myself. I may never know its objective truth, but I do know the subjective feeling of a presence in my life and a power beyond me that I cannot claim as my as own. Whatever it may be, or wherever it may be sourced from, I welcome it into my life. I let it show me heaven through the eyes of god. I let it lift my body with the wings of angels.
What do you imagine heaven might be like? Is it a Golden Palace in the sky? A feast of eternal bliss? A conversation with loved ones and masters throughout time? A place of learning and renewal for the next iteration in the material world? Or simply a kind of peace that needs nothing, has no thought of anything other, and can rest for eternity without stirring?
© Nick LeForce
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