A Mystery

I must admit to being a bit startled when I found myself sitting in a theater and the audience all carried programs with a simple cover—only a single image—one that I had made and then forgotten.

My wife and I were given complimentary tickets for an intimate performance of a little-known play: Miss Jairus, A Mystery in Four Tableuax by Michelde Ghelderode (3 April 1898, Ixelles – 1962, Brussels). The play opens with a scene of a distraught father outside the room where his 16 year-old daughter is on the verge of death. Immediately, I came under a spell . . . because at one time I was in the same situation when my own daughter Naomi fell ill and died—and now here I was watching my own life being acted out. 

As the moments unfolded, I began to see that the hand of fate had put me in the audience, with one of my images on the cover of the program.

 The grand scheme had begun earlier, when David Olson, director of Theaterwork had begun preparations for production of a mystical play and while he was in an eclectic resale shop in Santa Fe, had spotted a piece of artwork that had resonated with him. He thought it was apropos for the play he was directing, so he bought it and then tracked me down for permission to use it for the cover of his program. When he spoke with me, at first I did not know what image he was describing; “A woman dressed in cloth, walking with the moon behind her head.” He brought the painting to my gallery and I immediately recognized it as a piece from my past, and the "moon" was actually a halo. In the brochure, and on an easel in the lobby, the piece is now called, “Moon Halo”.

Here is brief description of the play, taken from The Harvard Crimson, by Joel Cohen, October 19, 1964:
De Ghelderode sets Miss Jairus, in the house of a merchant in medieval Bruges. As the merchant Jairus and three old hags who are professional mourners keep a drunken vigil over his dead daughter, the daughter's fiancé suddenly brings in a sorcerer who has been confounding the local clerics and physicians. The fiancé, Jacquelin, cannot stand to lose Miss Jairus and demands that the sorcerer awake her.

When the sorcerer does, Blandine objects to being awakened; she no longer knows her mother, father, or fiancé. Neither truly alive nor truly dead, she begins the long, sleepless wait for another death.

The ringing of distant bells, the coming of Death, as Lazarus, the whining and howling of mourners and a premonitory dog are all techniques of mystery and horror de Ghelderode has used in other plays. They combine in Miss Jairus with a plot-skeleton which is parable. In the final act, on Easter, as Miss Jairus dies, the townsfolk commemorate the Holy Day by taking the sorcerer to a hill outside the town and crucifying him.

In short, I feel that a conjurer acted behind the scenes to put me in this play, and we witnessed this stunning performance on the eve of Fathers Day.

Spirit Is Manifest

The tree on the right died at the same time as Chamo.

“Every one who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science becomes convinced that a spirit is manifest in the laws of the Universe-a spirit vastly superior to that of man, and one in the face of which we with our modest powers must feel humble.”
Albert Einstein

When I traveled in Asia, I often saw homemade shrines with offerings to Spirit. These shrines held a place of sacred importance and took up but little space in a home or place of business. Often they sat in a corner somewhere. A figurine representing Buddha or Krishna, or another saint sat on a pedestal, and all around were placed offerings . . . candles, incense, food, money—even cigarettes. These offerings were given to please Spirit, and in so doing, the giver hoped to get a blessing in return. This might be health or healing, or prosperity, or any of many other forms of blessing.

I am aware that the spiritual world is powerful and invisible, and that it affects every element of our physical existence. Spiritual signs can be read from physical phenomenon.

Chamo, at about three months.

Recently, this was made apparent to me again when we lost our puppy, Chamo, to an illness. He had come to us with a hidden birth defect that caused him to become ill. He was operated on and recovered, but then became ill again, and we had to put him to rest. Two weeks before, I noticed one of the trees outside my art gallery was dying. It had stood in a vase outside the entrance—opposite another tree on the other side. When Chamo died, the tree died also.

I had seen this sign from Spirit, heralding death, on another occasion. When my daughter Naomi was eighteen, she was fighting cancer. As a child, she had brought home two pine tree sprigs, and planted them on our property. They sprang up and grew until I decided that they would be better at the top of our driveway, framing the entrance, so I moved them. They continued growing, and I often thought that they symbolized Naomi and I. At one point, midway through Naomi’s struggle, during a drought, one of the trees began withering, despite my watering it. At one point, Naomi arrived home from California where she was living and being treated, and the tree had died. She was upset and scolded me for moving it from its original spot. Naomi died soon afterward. I planted a new tree, which has flourished . . . as I am convinced that she is flourishing in the spirit world.
See my previous post: Endlessly Changing

Infinite Worlds

What we know with our mind is but a drop in the ocean, for vast realms exist outside our experience. We struggle to understand ourselves, and nature, and make feeble efforts to go further into the universe, but alas, the finite mind cannot comprehend the infinite. We live within vast mystery. One of our biggest puzzles is the world of Spirit. Since birth, we have come to understanding through physical imprints. For instance, we learn numbers by counting objects, and we learn speech by associating sounds with actions and things that can be seen or touched. We learn the laws of nature by falling, or burning our fingers, and experiencing the revolving days and nights. Yet, the Spirit world exists beyond the confines of the physical realm, and for this our understanding is limited—which leads to speculation, and arguments of faith. I, for one, believe there are infinite worlds and that just as there are elemental kingdoms, so too, there are Spiritual Kingdoms that are even vaster since they are not bound by time and space.

Many years ago I had a dream: I stood alone at night on a grassy knoll and gazed up at the starry sky. A little cluster of bright lights caught my eye and I recognized the Pleiades, also known as the “seven sisters” in the constellation Taurus, (my sign). I pondered the light reaching my eyes and realized the immense space between me and the stars. Light from stars can take billions of years to reach us. I thought, “How could God be in me and at the same moment be so far away in the farthest reaches of the universe?” I was confused that He could be so intimately in my life and intimately in life throughout the cosmos, even billions of light years away. No sooner had I had the thought when a voice spoke from behind my shoulder, “He is closer to you than your own life vein!” At that instant, space collapsed to nothing and I realized the oneness of The Creator.

The Spirit world permeates all of our physical existence and furthermore, informs and comprehends everything. If we watch closely, we can be in touch with angels. This requires that we get outside the confines of rigid thinking. Then, we can see signs from Spirit in dreaming, through nature, especially plants and animals, and even in numbers.

After my beloved daughter Naomi died, signs appeared that lifted me from grief. I will just relate a few: A peach tree we planted on our property was always but a stick, with a paltry plumage of leaves and no fruit. A nearby peach tree did fine, but not this one. After Naomi died, almost like a miracle, this thin, withered tree made  a basketful of delicious peaches. This happened one year only—immediately after Naomi had gone into the Spirit world. I took this as a sign that she had gone into a place of abundance and fruitfulness, and was giving us confirmation through the plant kingdom that all was well and not to be sad, but rather, glad. Another time, on the first anniversary of her passing, a group of us gathered in my back yard to pray and remember her great and gentle spirit. We all had written prayer wishes and wrapped them into small pouches, then tied them to a long cord. Standing in a circle, holding the cord between us, we each spoke from our hearts, remembering Naomi. A gentle mist fell, and suddenly a rainbow appeared. When the last words were spoken we stood silently, when out of the blue, two doves appeared directly above our circle and began an incredible dance that astonished and mesmerized us. The birds plunged down in a tight spiral, their wings almost touching, then paused and spiraled upward only to plunge in a spiral down again. Then they disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. It was a once in a lifetime sight. We were all breathless, and not word was spoken until a woman shouted, “Thank you Naomi!” And a child chimed in, “I hope she keeps sending us messages like that, showing us that everything is okay!”

I have further observations about how Spirit world speaks to us in numbers, but I will save that for another time.



To read more about Naomi, see: A Heart Traced In Sand