Esteemed Reader: The Glorious Day | March 2022 | Esteemed Reader | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine

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Esteemed Reader: The Glorious Day | March 2022

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Ferry Street, Saugerties - DAVID MCINTYRE
  • David McIntyre
  • Ferry Street, Saugerties

There was a beautiful, terrible day last month that everyone remembers. Walking, driving along the roads, people were stopped at regular intervals simply gazing, or, cameras up, photographing the landscape of translucent trees and sky. A centimeter of ice coated everything, refracting the sun that suffused the atmosphere with a warm hue of light. The wind blowing through the trees sounded like flowing water. If each season has subseasons, this was the summer of the winter.

I will henceforth refer to this day as The Glorious Day. It came after a dark and cold couple of months. Only the day before, a friend agreed that this seemed to be an unusually gloomy winter. But then the sun rose on a bright morning after an ice storm and a crystal garden had emerged overnight, the first glorious day of Fimbulwinter, the run-up to Ragnarok.

A deep impulse drove me to the forest, far above Duck Pond, where I walked on a single track, drinking the special light through my eyes and through the photoreceptors in my skin. I imbibed the sound of wind flowing among the trees, trembling like liquid chimes. The land revealed her curvaceous shape in a way I had never seen, with dark shadows dispelled by an illumination radiating from everywhere at once.

Crunching alongside a talus-strewn frozen stream, I saw with peripheral vision a strangely shaped gray boulder with an unusual energetic signature. I stopped, and looking directly, saw a human figure wrapped in a rough woolen shawl, sitting very still on the far side of the stream. A subtle cloud of frozen breath puffed from beneath the hood. In the spirit of natural signs, I took the puff of breath as an indication to approach.

I struggled to climb down the ravine, across the stream, and up the icy slope. Winded, I approached the figure and began to discern the sound of a low hum which seemed to be in the same note as the chiming trees. As I approached it grew louder. A woman’s voice humming from between closed lips. It was a rich, organic vibration, but also sweet and gentle. The head of the figure turned and revealed her face. She looked like my great-grandmother, Gussie.

Her eyes were deep-set behind a wrinkled face. They looked toward a distant point in my general direction. I felt neither surprise nor shock at seeing her sitting quietly in the snow, as though I was arriving for a meeting at an appointed time. Ice coated her shawl like the trees, and I couldn’t discern any tracks leading to her position.

“Hello…” I said, unsure of how to address this enigmatic person. “Beautiful day.”

Her eyes focused and she seemed to see me for the first time. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a voice cracked with age.

“Taking a walk in the woods, taking in this day.”

“Yes,” she said, “good,” and continued to look at me, as though scanning for an indication of something. Then she spoke again. “Today is glorious because it is the conception of a new life in the world. A different vibration is entering the atmosphere today.”

I nodded, recognizing that I felt something subtler than the results of the meteorological event.

“I have something to tell you. Are you ready to listen?”

I nodded again.

“Now that it is conceived, something is needed from us, from those of us who understand. The role of human beings in the world is to imagine the future. Most people are occupied with the problems of the present, but those who can free their minds need to become open to receive the image of the unborn child that is the future humanity. You understand?”

I nodded, but then was unsure. “Where does the image come from?”

“From the unseen world of values. The image is already prepared. You need to open to it, receive it, and then hold it in your mind. Can you do this?”

“I think so.”

“Don’t think. For this you have to give up what you call thinking. Rehashing your ideas and associations is like turning over piles of shit and garbage. You have to see and release all your beliefs, to think in a new way with your mind open to receiving something from beyond itself.”

She paused, and her voice became fierce with energy, like a transmission. 

“Now go. Ponder this, and sit, one hour each day, minimum. Open to the unseen world, never think about the present. Open to the image of the child that is coming.”

With this she stood, shook off the ice, and walked up the hill and out of sight. Soon I only heard the crystal trees trembling in the wind.

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