“I don’t suppose you have very much to tell…”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because you have an extremely simple soul; however, it will be even more simple when you become perfect. The closer we come to God, the more simple we become.”
—St. Therese of Lisieux, The Story of a Soul
They spoke beneath an autumn sky, a gray overcast of layered clouds as front of cool moved slow across the plains. Behind, somewhere, held the sun; but in the layers of sky-gray, it kept hidden from sight.
James spoke, “Maybe I’m simple, but I’m not without sin; and maybe my reticence is really that I’d rather keep these between God and I alone while the fires of the world burn them clean and forge a stronger spirit.
Maybe the simplicity you speak is really something different—purity—and if it is, I have a way to go.”
Eli answered, “That you are aware shows, already, you make progress on the path.”
“To what? What is the metric of measurement?”
“Weight of soul…is yours light, or burdened?”
“But what is in an indicator of advancement? In ignorance, life is levity—as if all may be an endless spring—though world and seasons show such isn’t true. When we begin to sense a different picture, levity laxes. Perception of burdens begin.
Were they always there? Do we place them on ourselves? Are they worth it? Why not turn away?”
“Because it is in them you sense Truth…Purity and ignorance are different states of levity that guide to completely different ends.”
“Can purity be reached, or is it forever a far ideal?”
“I don’t know. I’m working for it too…the more one advances, the further off one sees the goal to be.”
James listened then responded, “I’m still a sinner too…”
“Let journey of progress be your joy,” Eli spoke.
A hole in the sky appeared, piercing through façade of gray as light broke free spreading its fan in array of beams, strong light filtering into faint veil until touching next strong strand, in descent to autumn earth.
In the sign of light, in James, a levity returned.
…He does not like teaching us everything at once, but normally enlightens us a little at a time.
At the beginning of my spiritual life…I used to wonder what else there was for me to learn…I soon found…that the more one advances, the further off one sees the goal to be.
I am quite resigned, now, to seeing myself always imperfect, and I even make it my joy.
—St. Therese of Lisieux, The Story of a Soul