This morning’s mail brought a padded envelope from a distant bookstore. They’d called a while back, asking for my postal address “so that we can send a book someone left for you.” As I opened the envelope to a paperback, I recognized neither title* nor author**. On the front page was an inscription dated seven months ago:
To Peter Renner with my admiration and gratitude for the
kindness and light you bring, as we enter the great mystery.
The words touched my heart. Here’s someone who knows something about me, who also knows that I know. Know what? Nothing I can name with any eloquence, other than to say that these words revealed a deep connection. Not a connection from Person X to Person Y but to an energetic vastness where time and distance mean nothing. Where skin and bones are nothing more than temporary containers; where life and death make for blurred boundaries; where the small self (ego) gives way to Big Mind — the all-knowing, ever-lasting. No wonder she wrote of the “great mystery;” no wonder I find myself using language that’s over the top, but — in truth — barely conveys my amazement.
* Hartshorne, E. (1990). Light in blue shadow. Berkeley, CA: Ellsberg Books. The book chronicles the author’s journey of grief following the death of her twenty-year old son. For details, click here. ** As the day progressed, I began to remember being introduced to her; have now sent an email to express my thanks.