PAUL’S DIARY

(A Retelling in Several Movements)

Lois can’t see me clearly. Such is my fate. It leaves me keen and fretting. But I may have a break from my work. Maggie wants us to work with her, but I’m not really into it. I am true to my calling and I know how to contact my truthful urge. I was with the Master in spirit, but now am on my own and need to tell his story through my own faith. I have my calling and it will continue as long as I am alive.

The night sky is amazing at twilight, and I will study deserving this great splendor. I love the highlights of nature, the elemental feelings I have for the world. I wish I had two lives, one dedicated to faith and the Master’s vision, and one to still breathe the great freshness of life. But my loyalty is strong and I must keep myself on track. The work is arduous but rewarding. I must write to our communities and I must stay with my deepest aspect and realize that my weakness is made perfect in His strength.

Whatever one can expect is no longer in my control. I live and breathe the purposeful leading edge of all our outcry. My famished soul was hungry and he gave me fullness. I love everything he stood for, and the undiminished hope of our lives centered in the heart of salvation. We will live with Him in eternity. Such is our fate.

Lois wants me to be the true hero of her dreams. She is not wrong in this, but my heart belongs to the Master and Maggie. Maggie is the servant who most regenerates the inside of our deepest hope. She knew him best, slept with him and knew his power. What do I know beyond his powers?

But still I ride. I must take myself as seriously as I have been taught, as I know I must be. I am the vehicle in which all this must be carried. Such is my work, and it is good work, good times are had in this work. Good is my vocation, my pride in the Master’s power.

I can almost remember when Maggie first came to me. She was a wonder. I do not think I have ever seen a more beautiful creature. She just had that power, and it was hers alone. She was inward in some sense, but still able to stand her own ground in the outer world. We started as lovers, later became friends, and finally fulfilled all our desires by making each other into icons of a spiritual grandeur greater than ourselves. She was muse and authority on soul. She was a serious student of the Master’s teaching, and I loved her for that. But she never stopped being something I cannot explain, albeit she was human as well. That such people exist makes this life worth living.

Stood within my own proclivity and hunted my own mind. I had been looking for a way to reach you wherever you are, wherever you enter me with that fierce memorable voice, that singing-master of my soul, which I continue to hear from day to day. I ascend a bit when within earshot, and clamber back to the chamber where everything finds me at home with you. But it is no amazement that keeps me in touch. The fire in me does not let up in these days, which I dedicate to you.

What does it matter now we have been here this long. We have been here this long. We have informed being here, we have stood up for ourselves. Our suffering will not be well known by anyone outside ourselves. So what? And what can be added to what we have undergone? We took our chances earlier on. We did not ask to be here, or did we? Is there a fullness round each existence, like a symbolic structure that is more than the beating heart of the breathing lungs? Who knows the answers to these very simple questions? Who gives us pause before the facts of existence? What steps do we take, mighty in our rehearsed powers of affirmation, toward creating that refined measure wherein what we do is full of grace?

The day has turned bright. We are glad of the sunlight. It makes us feel sunny or young or springlike, as of old. We are harbingers of our own inner spring, and we sail aloft beyond ourselves, mixing memoir with hope, streams of fresh creek water below the house, make a subtle roar day and night. I am here, on the earth, near the wet dream of Northerly spring.

Sleepless. No paradox excludes the discomfort of frustrated awakeness. But it looks like there is another warm day. Why not?

I try to be heard. I am in the in-between. Threading the needle between the new and the old, the law and the new dispensation. Love is more powerful than the law, and gives room to all. I must take hold of my environment and rely heavily on the Master. He knows how to help me now, give me room to manifest his will. I am but a servant and a happy one. There is no greater task than spreading the True Word. It gives me so much joy I cannot believe there is another place for me. Damascus taught me the overriding message: oneself is insignificant, the only order comes from following the commands of the Master. He alone embodies the truth. He alone gives solace even as we carry the burdens of his message.

A long day of preaching. The people come and yet are sometimes hard of hearing. This does not stop my onward stretch of soulful motions. It anchors me to the great task of speaking truth. It alone gives me the strength to go on. The Romans watch from a distance, and will strike me down if there is too much disorder. And yet I keep on, I am unstoppable, thanks be to God. I do not let anything get in my way, I do not aspire beyond my current capacities. I am made strong in his greater regard.

I may have to break with Lois. No matter. She will understand. There is a certain amount of agony in this, but I can master it. Maggie is another story, and she is my soul mate, without whom there is no room to maneuver. I treasure her input in my calling, for she knows in deep ways. She was loyal to the Master and she gives me solace as well. She is strong, sweet, benighted and lovely. I cherish her as my absolute other, and yet the captain of my ongoing mission. She makes many things possible which would be impossible were she not present. My love for her grows abundant even as my soul’s occasion for service also grows.

My letters continue to be published among the faithful. This is pleasing and yet I should not let it enter the realm of pride. This would be an error, for I dare not return to boastful days. My voice is an instrument of the Lord, and I must adhere to this practice. It is entirely in keeping with my vocation, and was made articulate in that mute understanding I had on the Road that day. I dare not become oppressive in the ways I was earlier. This would involve disgrace, and perhaps worse.

But what a solid freedom my position allows. I am doing exactly what I was born to do: I am spreading the Word, I am pouring forth an exclusive dimension of the Divine Understanding. There is no greater task, and I give thanks for this cross which allows me to enter the domain of love and be transformed daily. It is a secret splendor, and yet I can share it. It makes me a messenger with a great capacity to teach and celebrate.

I sometimes doubt myself. Who really wants to hear what I say? I saw a protestor today, and he made me feel awful. It was not what I needed. Doubts come and go in my processes, I am human. I am touched by the Master most deeply, and yet he did not really tell me what I was about. He gave me something on the Road, and yet it was a rebuke. Now I’m on my own. I believe in my mission, and yet it is only one road in the midst of many.

The whole fullness of deity dwells in his body. Find in love the great harmonic of your lives, my dear friends. Grace be with you.

Insistent progression from the ground up. It is our way of being, this rising day by day. The world is often beautiful, and yet my tasks seem overwhelming. I would like to rest, but cannot. I must be about the Work. It is what I was made for. Pure love has been granted me, and I must obey its credibility.

I gave up luxury and status for this lowly condition, and I barely survive materially. And yet, I am rich in the spirit. The memory of easier times often haunts me, but it is no matter. Time will heal all.

Having to admit my weakness has always been the hard one. But there you are. It leaves room to be filled with something else. Good luck. I know how I must look to others, but it is not entirely my life. I am ready to accept the larger destiny of my fate, such as it is.

I am unstoppable. Who proceeds as I do, makes the word vibrate in the air. My voice is strong, and is filled with hope and faith, love as well. I come to celebrate the Master’s quest, his fulfillment of the law. He came like a vague wilderness in the night and his word was made flesh. He was the thing we now have as access to the spirit and to life everlasting. Nothing can get in the way of that, neither devils nor monsters, governments or foggy notions of the real. We have been to the Mountain and we are still arriving, one after another.

Curious indignation at all I have to do each day. There is no rest for me, though I am devoted to being a conduit for the Word. It is a high calling, and yet a part of me would like to have a quieter existence. I am caught among many forces that do not comprehend my mission. Sometimes it becomes overwhelming, what I have to face. But I can do my work ultimately, because it is not me who ultimately makes these decisions.

Because I do not stop. Because something in me is called. I hear the voice come to me and it simply gives me strength.

Just as well. Compositions in solitude. I must keep up the work. It is what I was made for. The words enter the domain of prayer as surely as my breath. The day begins again, sun through the trees. I am praying for the world. I am sure I am not alone, but the Master’s hand never leaves me. I am called up every day by his loving gestures. I am glad to be part of this mission. It keeps me alert and grounded, lest there be some other avenues that distract me. The bodies of young women are everywhere, I feel them as I watch them walk to market. They do not understand the desire of the eye of a man, but turn away in shyness. But often I am overtaken by desire and have to catch my breath, remember who I am and what I am here for. Lead us not…

Once more the makeshift round.

Only the time that is allowed. But we can make a difference. It is our path that comes to the fore, makes sense for us. What thrills stream from the soul! The look of a young woman’s face as she hears the deeper current.

The whole entity of pursuit. What am I after? Who is it  keeps me in the flow, makes manifest my lunge? One dwells in the fullness of time, finds the deeper current rife with fortunate being. This is our time. But there will be another. We are always at the edge of the eternal. I crawl toward new intensities.

No one must know how wracked by doubt, loneliness I sometimes fall toward. Something in me wants to stay strong, to be perfect in his strength, and all the rest of what deep-down I’ve come to feel. But another human side of me is deathly afraid that I am on a wrong course, that I’ve made all this up and really have no idea how to proceed. I am exhausted with my own importance. I may have been deluded on the Road; that may have been a miracle or a mirage, perhaps an hallucination.

Faith that goes deeper than did ever plummet sound. The rounds of activity I have, washing, thinking, feeling, praying, preaching. Why do I go on? There is a sense of innocence about my spiritual marriage with the Master’s grace, perhaps there is a mystery in that. I do not know. But sometimes it comes over me that I have something to say and I am saying it. We all want to matter, to be of use to our fellows. I know I have a gift, but how often I find myself lacking certainty.

Stoke tabernacles that drain prognosis. You look yourself into something fearsome and it comes back to haunt. My own mind was made up, I was lost. But then with thee, there came another dimension and I was absolved, I fetched my own reward.

But it’s you that stands with me. I acknowledge what you’ve done and will continue to do so. What more can we say?  It’s the flow of time, the endless parody of what might stop but doesn’t, years pile up and we are left with this presence. Who could ask for anything more?

I’ve noticed how much desire twists me into a hopefulness, as if in these bodies of women something might occur as transcendent as faith. Why this overload of sensuality in the hybrid system of body and soul? Each perfected ache of longing is no more than an exercise that wants fluid transmission of the highest elements in our nature. Sing it, old songster, you almost got what was intended for you, but then who wants what you want, who gives over all these nameless variations of excess?

I can’t speak of that, not now. It did happen, I wrote about it, and I did not know how much it would spark interest. I still to this day do not know if I was ascended bodily or not. It was as if I was suddenly in another reality, profusely saturated with what I would call tremendous beauty. I do not know exactly how to apply words to it. I think it firmed up something profound, but again, I can’t reveal all.

It’s something very difficult for me. I have asked that it be removed from me. It is both physical and bears resemblance to mental burden. I have been touched in order that I might restrain from boastfulness. I take this as a burden I must bear, even as the Master bore his special task. I cannot say exactly what it is, for it would not make that much sense to you. There are mysteries that cannot be revealed. That much I tell you, and do not want you to think me evasive; trust that I am sincere in what I reveal to you.

Be subject to one another, be strong in the power of the Master. We are all here to advance the truth, nothing less. We are heirs of a new creation, and nothing can take this from us. Peace and mercy accompany our every step for we are truly on the right path. Grace be with you.

But what you say to me and you say it way too often I cannot deny my desire for you you  are too beautiful and I love you no doubt about it you too can come aboard.

But it’s our song transgression making hay look how wild we look in the meantime it’s our prognosis, learning how long it takes to grow strong.

No doubt you have been on the earth how loving to look like you I’d swerve beyond destiny you are truly remarkable.

What if in all this hopefulness we begin our stalwart cry and extend beyond our knowing?

Setbacks come and go. I am both amazed and humbled by the richness of life. One minute I am watching the flow of a river, the next the bright blue desert sky. I am of the earth, and yet it is the spirit that calls me. I am in the in between, and I must remain there as long as I am called. It is my responsibility to stay connected in the special way that has been granted me.

I do want to stay positive. They will kill me soon. Too many adversaries. It is fate. Nobody wants to keep us in the open. We need to hide if we want a long life. I cannot stop speaking what is for me the real case with our condition. We have been granted an authority in the world by his Sacrifice. I trust this from an ancient faith. I find in his mission my own. Thus, days are numbered, though I cannot ultimately complain, for my fate is given over to his cause.

Astonishing the beauty of things. The birds in the morning, trees that rise up to the sky, the simple obedient animals that accompany us. And man, the brainchild of the heavens, with his ambivalence, his pride, his awareness of the dark.

I must steady myself and try to steer clear of fear. This is my ongoing concern. I have something that wants to run and hide, to find asylum. And yet, that would not fulfill my covenant with the Master, whose life was also given for the salvation of all. Again, I must let my weakness become stable within his greater strength. Nothing in creation will separate us from the love that has been granted to us by the Master’s own sacrifice. Let me rejoice in hope, and be constant in prayer.

How one fights for dignity in the midst of so much that goes against the solitary self. I change my voice to meet different occasions. To sound authoritative I go deeper, and then I go lightly when talking with children and women. I stand tall when I need to, though I am not at all tall. I am bulky and lack the natural grace of taller people. But vocally, I am unmatched for variety of sound. That is my peculiar gift and it allows me a vast interplay of idea and intonation when I am speaking in public.

Romans, Jews, the pressure is always there. I worship one not of this world, and so this troubles the temporal authority; I do not follow the letter of the law, and the zealous find fault. I begin to worry for my survival. But I have to stay strong, for my quest is for the eternal, not the temporary. My inducement is to go strong in this current struggle, for the reward will be great. I must pray on all this, and hope my central position in this calling will be enough to vouchsafe my salvation. Such an outcome is devoutly to be wished, and I have no reason to doubt that this will be the case.

All are welcome. The Torah still holds; the new dispensation of the Master’s message is also a call to come join the Vast Centricity. All holds. No holds. You can come into the family of truth through different entrances. I must keep speaking of these matters.

No time for corrosive disagreement. We must find a convergence. We must take ourselves less seriously as divided elements and get free of the divisiveness and find our truth in his Cross. He who stood tall among us, as a worker for our freedom and our salvation, now needs to live with us in our own sense of holiness. Give place to our fellowship, dear friends, and live again in his Grace. This is the heart of our struggle, to bring all into one momentum. I believe it can be done.

All in good time, and living as we do here, able to see only so far. But it is our lives we pay attention to, and we come away with even more spectacular yield. All this talk about enlightenment, all this jabber, self-congratulatory talk. What about helping one another, being awake to the angles of being that are contexted with giving yourself to another’s need, another’s pain.

Bent into the living sphere, all we do here. All we divine, and living in the truest form, it is our always on time regard for this great redemptive truth that leaves us agape in all this ceremonial undoing. It climbs us, this trouncing wilderness of smiles, and it goes without saying we don’t really know ourselves until we are touched by vision.

This begins our ceremonial conjunction, and we go through our wild tribulations in the name of our own outcries. This begins again, and each time something treasurable comes to its own.

—Bill Pearlman

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