In the waste-land near the train-station the wild grapes are gone past. Now the wild grasses display their fruit, and rose-hips shine bright red between the leaves of the sweetbriar.
Nearby there is a circuit box that handles power for the station and its night-time illumination. Looking at it, I see an electric eye, aimed at the heavens, rigged to tell the circuit box if it is day or night, if the lights at the station need to be turned on, or not.
The electric eye is covered with shiny glass, and beneath the glass its electronics are a reddish blue. -Which has attracted a beetle with bright red and black markings, who is doing its best to cover the eye with its body. So far, the electric eye is not fooled.
While I contemplate this, an adventursome chipmunk scampers over my foot and stops underneath me to give me a sniff. As I don't seem to be food, it scoots away, quick as thought, in search of larder for the winter. 'Try the grass seed', I think.
We on the earth are good at sensing the hours and seasons of the planet, and figuring out what is good food, and what is not.
But with the food of the spirit, we are often not so good. We lay up poison in our wine-cellars, we store away pebbles instead of wheat. We look at the sky, and we see the bug that is in the way, and remember little of the actuality in front of us, good or bad.
Test the spirit of the times. Taste what is in front of you, and if it is poison, spit it out. Test what you see, and clear your vision of that which blocks the truth. Test what you hear, and clear your ears of falsehood. Judge with right judgment, and keep your wits about you.
If you walk about with your eyes blocked, will you not stumble and hurt yourself? And if what you believe is lies, or your thinking is based on anger, will not your decisions lead to disaster and ruin?
If the bug, and the chipmunk are signs, perhaps they are hopeful ones. Perhaps they show that we can and will see the truth, and choose the true food, and see true light.
May it be so for us all.
LE
