On occasion, I have been able to see into another dimension—a
spiritual realm of greater reality. It is a place that transcends the
material world and goes beyond time and space. I had such an
experience just today, but first I will describe a couple other episodes
from when I was in my twenties. I was traveling with a few friends to
visit a Native American man on the Navajo reservation. We had stopped
outside Gallup, New Mexico to visit someone who could tell us the
way. I was in a chair, not paying attention to the conversation and
instead half dreaming. A vision came to me of driving on a dirt road,
and arriving at a place where an Indian fellow was building a house,
laying cement blocks by hand. Suddenly it was time to go, so we
headed out and in about ½ hour, we were on a dirt road and then came
upon the man, building his house exactly as I had seen
earlier—including the wall, and him with his trowel in hand laying
the blocks.
In my book,
A Heart Traced In Sand, I recount another
spiritual experience:
For years I had felt the presence of angels that reside in
God’s other realms. When I was twenty-two, during a summer break at
the Maryland Institute, College of Art, in Baltimore, I moved to a
small town in Maryland and rented a room in a YMCA. One evening while
ending my prayers, I felt a change occur around me. I seemed to be
wrapped in a hazy, otherworldly light, and suddenly the perfumed
scent of a thousand roses filled my nostrils. Turning toward the one
window in my little cubicle, I saw a shimmering light come down, pass
through the wall, and then hover above me in the approximate shape of
a person’s aura. Immediately I knew I was in the presence of a
spirit and was frightened. The light shimmered in place, waiting for
some acknowledgment, until with trepidation I said, “I am afraid.
But come into me.” Then it descended into my soul and for a few
dazzling moments bestirred my whole being before vanishing.
Every now an then, my third eye glimpses into the spiritual world
of light. But I can't predict when the door will open or what I will
see. Several times I have been praying from the depths of my soul
over some important matter that is weighing heavy on me, such as when
my daughter was dying and I could not bear to see it and needed help.
I cried out in anguish. And then I got a glimpse of angels who were smiling and
calm as could be. This sort of infuriated me at the time—that I was
so anguished and they were absolutely calm in the midst of my storm.
I did not understand what help this was to me, but accepted that I
was the one whose vision was limited. This happened again today, but
it has come to my awareness that in fact, despite appearances here,
all is well in heaven. All of us have one foot there already.
Here is a poem by Hafiz:
Forgive The Dream
All your images of winter
I see against your sky.
I understand the wounds
That have not healed in you.
They exist
Because God and Love
Have yet to become real
enough
To allow you to forgive
The dream.
You still listen to an old alley song
That brings your body
pain;
Now chain your ears
To His pacing drum and flute.
Fix your eyes upon
The magnificent arch of His brow
That supports
And allows
this universe to expand.
Your hands, feet, and heart are wise
And want to know the
warmth
Of a Perfect One’s circle.
A true saint
Is an earth in eternal spring.
Inside the veins of a petal
On a blooming redbud tree
Are hidden worlds
Where Hafiz sometimes
Resides.
I will spread
A Persian carpet there
Woven with light.
We can drink wine
From a gourd I hollowed
And dried on the
roof of my house.
I will bring bread I have kneaded
That contains my own
Divine
genes
And cheese from a calf I raised.
My love for your Master is such
You can just lean back
And I
will feed you
This truth:
Your wounds of love can only heal
When you can forgive
This
dream.
