Sparks

Incarnation. Day 2

I see a dead city. I fly over the roofs of empty apartment blocks, over courtyards reclaimed by forest, over deserted parks. A longing grips my heart. Without people nothing has meaning. What from above may seem like senseless bustle is life. Life is beautiful. We are all important.

I see a summer day on the Mediterranean, a small coastal town, many people walking, working, sitting in street cafés, dancing, sailing in boats. I feel the sea breeze, the scent of a fish restaurant, pines and the warmed stone of the paved streets. I find myself at a market stall of fruit and vegetables, behind which stands a plump, businesslike woman briskly trading. I watch her: how she smiles at customers, bags the goods, counts out change. What is she like in life? I imagine her home, small and cosy, lots of flowers, a thin, good‑natured husband, children — two boys, failing at school and rather idle, whom she scolds but loves dearly and who get pies baked for them on Sundays. How she tends her garden, how hard she works. I feel tenderness for her; I sense that there is much goodness in her, although most of her acquaintances would probably not agree.

There is much good in each of us. Deep down we all carry a light within us. This Light is what You call forth in us. And we too can learn to see it in one another. Even in the gloomiest-looking person that spark burns — take Severus Snape, for example.

I see our planet strewn with billions of sparks, barely seen, frightened, hidden, forgotten. Forgotten by us, but not by You. We all desire good, we search for it, we strive towards the light. You made us this way. But we allow fear to confuse us, to mislead us, to deprive us of reason and strength. And of Faith.

What can I do? Not be afraid, move towards the light, see the light in others and call to it, share that state like Wi‑Fi. I believe that goodness is contagious.

I see that some sparks are drawn to one another, reaching towards the brightest, joining together and beginning to shine many times more brightly. As if some sparks are beacons.

I remember lines that always make my soul feel light and tenderly aching:

"Unhappy are those whose troubled minds
lead them backward by retreating ways.
You little know that you are but worms,
in which a deathless moth yet smoulders,
ascending to God's light from the dark."

I think of Mary and see her spark — the brightest, the purest, the most powerful on the whole Earth. Mary shines dazzlingly. The pure embodiment of the Light, the perfect conduit of His will.

How could I describe Her, by what qualities does She turn to me? Calmness, benevolence, smoothness, dignity, absolute trust in God, modesty, humility, love for the world, for people, a smiling disposition, care, the warmth of the hearth, the joy of everyday being. Simply thinking of Her makes things brighter.

If fear is what prevents the other sparks from burning brightly, then it is the most imprisoning force in the world. And the most freeing is Love. Each person fears most what he in truth loves most. Therein lies the mechanism of the Sacred Wound.

It turns out that what I love most is my otherness, my solitude, my separateness, stepping beyond boundaries, provoking protest, indignation, condemnation. Only in that way can I truly do my work; these conditions are ideal for me, the most creative, the most liberating.

***

In the concluding conversation we walk along the river. I say:

— This is a world‑turning realisation. I had intuited it, had even tried to put it into words, but You place it at my foundation and now I can lean on it. I have no need to be liked in order to help someone. Those whom I can truly help will come to me themselves.

I feel warmth in my heart and His support, and I desire no greater answer.