The next story isn’t really true (but it could be…maybe). It came to me during one of my times of meditation at Saint Benedict’s Monastery in Snowmass, Colorado:

SNOWMASS VISION

The red-brown bricks of the sanctuary welcome me.
Two circles of chairs, one within the other:
even without words I seem to know
the inner circle is for monks,
the outer for the rest.
With the room dimly, yet warmly lit,
it’s easy to close my eyes.

A soft sound and I look up
to see monks and guests slowly enter,
bowing low to the statue in the corner.
Seats easily found.
A soft, low, droning sound enfolds me;
not bothersome as you think,
but growing in intensity
as each new person joins the circles.

Soon enough, the chapel bell peals,
the single note reaches a peak
and the lights in the room start to brighten.
Slowly I sense, before I see, each monk lift off his chair;
young and old, able and infirmed,
all rise into the air and hover.
I’ve gone to a place where this seems quite
expected; as a guest I sit still in prayer.

A second note joins the first,
a sweet, timeless harmony.
I close my eyes as it seems
the sounds call me to do.
A brush of air against my arm lets me know my old friend
Holy Spirit has come to be with me.
At peace, I open my eyes
just in time to take in the sight of each monk
spinning in place in perfect balance.

This holy time has a feel of the ordinary
as a sense stirs within me,
letting me know this all comes from a deeper place.

At last, the spinning monks slow
and gently alight on their seats.
The room begins to slowly darken once again
just as God’s light shines within.
Sound, harmony, light, movement and prayer,
Blessed be the Creator of them all.