The left arm of the cross is the past, illusion, the third dimension, the play of human life which for many is all that is, the totality of their being. Imagine being an actor on a stage and in a production of your own making, one which becomes so real it is all there is for you; you forget there is another true reality and personal truth beyond the performance, and that it is both temporary and untrue. You miss so much: you miss your present and you miss your presence.
Living as I do in my hidden Welsh sanctuary, much that is routine for or indeed promised to the people of Britain does not touch me. My village is part of the 5 per cent of the population which has the poorest, slowest broadband service, if any, and to which the Olympic flame - supposed to be taken near close to every home in the UK – came nowhere near; the nearest hospital is an hour and a half away in England, and life is simple because there is no alternative. The benefits of being part of a forgotten rural community in mountains and moorland are many, however, and I would not be anywhere else. It enables me to be the observer more than the participant, and while I have my own human-life play to create and deliver, I am able, perhaps, to watch the bigger drama unfold in the world beyond me without so much distraction. It makes fascinating viewing and teaches me much, constantly.
Stand back from time to time and become the observer too: look at your own life-play and see it for what it is – a constantly evolving production of your own making, and then look beyond at the play of the human race being enacted through the cross of Spirit. However busy your life may be, you can find the time, and it will serve you well.]]>