My main dilemma up here on Coyote Mountain outside Taos, NM, is whether to spend the blessed silence and solitude working, or to spend every minute looking at the sky, which literally changes from minute to minute.
I am off Saturday to Albuquerque from my week-long retreat on St. Thérèse of Lisieux with Bro. Joseph F. Schmidt.
(Re)-reading The Executioner's Song and watching Kurosawa's Ikiru (To Live).
Continuing to savor Iain Matthews' The Impact of God: Soundings from St. John of the Cross.
The point is that love takes the person on a journey deeper into him. Deeper, but always into him. Canticle brings waves of understanding, unveiling each time what was there from the beginning. It is as if one heard a drama on the radio about children being saved from drowning; then it turns out to be a news item, not a drama; then one discovers the children are one's own children.
So, the bride's search starts off with a meditation on the mysteries of Jesus--meaning Jesus born, tempted, teaching, healing, praying sweating, dying, rising. She begins with this. As she goes further, she comes...to the mysteries of Jesus; surpassing that she reaches...the mysteries of Jesus; until finally, in the utter newness of heaven, she will be overwhelmed by the mysteries of Jesus...
And so up to the caverns,
set deep into the rock
--almost out of sight--
we'll find a way to enter,
there to taste the pomegranate wine (Canticle stanza 32)...
Heaven will be that: a total entry into the caverns of Christ's heart, an infinite space for the Father.