Seeking Solomon, I sense the presence of a stranger. At first there is a certain uneasiness, a sense of staring into a mirror, except this calm gaze that reflects my search for him also reflects his search for God. I see he seeks discernment, and I sense more than a little bit of Rama here. Solomon’s search for God leads him into my secret place. I show him my bells, candles, songs and incense, but he looks for people.
“Why is this a sanctuary and not a temple?” he asks.“Where is the celebration?”
“Why would you build a home for Him who needs no home?” I ask Solomon.
“The temple is not a home for Him, but rather a Being that He and we have made together ... ” He replies without words, “See, we have formed this holy place of dust from the ground and breathed into it the breath of life and made it a living being. It is not a dwelling place for either God or man, but a place where God and man may meet, exchange their gifts, and celebrate each other’s presence."
I am surprised at the earth element I sense in Solomon. He enjoys Earthly Life. He enjoys being alive and being in a body.
“What is wisdom, Solomon?” I ask .
He silently replies: “I don’t know what you mean by wisdom, but I know the tone of love and how to listen to the hearts of men (and other things), and I can compare the tones I send and those I receive. You can do that, too!”
“But how, Solomon?”
“When a greeting is presented to you, meet it with ‘joy,’ and notice the mingling of the two: is there harmony or turbulence? If your ‘joy’ is real, it will test the greeting and feelings offered you. Or, if nothing is discernible from a being, send it peace or love and compare the tone you send with that which returns: do those tones embrace or do they fight, or do they dissipate one another? You can do that.” He starts to leave.
“And what if there is turbulence, Solomon? How do I know my tone is true?”
“Your heart will know when it sings with God.” He moves farther away.
“Are there other temples, Solomon, in other places?”
“There is only one temple” Solomon replies, again speaking without words, “no matter where you find it.” And he smiles as he disappears.
“Solomon! Solomon!” I call, “Tell me, are there other temples on other planets, in other worlds; other prophets with other tones for other beings?”
And in the silence, I hear him smile: “How many songs can you sing with one note?”
© John Womack, 2014 All Rights Reserved