Room Service at the Secret Garden

About once a week my friend Pat brings me coffee. He is an early riser, so that when he has coffee with me, it is almost an afternoon pick-me-up for him, while for me it is a cobweb sweeping operation. One thing is that he is uncompromising about the quality of his coffee, so he brings the mother lode of coffee to me.
We sit on the patio and chat.
So here is the deal about people like him. They are caught in the mill and are getting ground up. Ground and reground. It isn't a bad thing, it feels like it is. Actually, it feels like hell. It is necessary. The Mill produces fine Human Beings. Fine fine. Ground to a soft powder that, like water, settles in the low places and from there, the vista is eternal. We don't become whole until we get scattered.

I met Pat before he entered the mill. I remember him as an exuberant, run you over kind of guy. Maybe he was compensating even then, having gotten the orders to go, I don't know. I remember when it started, the crushing, the pain and fear. I remember his confession of helplessness, of utter loss and lostness. Yes, what a marvelous process the Mill is. It turns the pages of life all so easily.
I didn't know what to say to him. I was at the point of crying, myself. I still am, in thinking back. I told him, very simply: "If you can survive, it will make you soft and fine. You are a most fortunate man."
The Mill is a lonely place. It is all you can do to hold on. Many don't make it. If you see a friend going through the grinding, hope they can stay alive, for when done, it will be the most wonderful Christmas present for the World. It also helps to remind them, frequently, to not check out, to not get numb, to stay fully alive. You do that by engaging them in life. They desperately need the frequent reminders.

What got me to writing about this is something I noticed about the time I spend with Pat: Interesting stuff happens when he is with me. It is like he has become a doorway that allows the entry of exquisite offerings from (elsewhere). On a coarser level, it is the coffee, of course. He brings me coffee. Good coffee. On the finer plane, he brings co-incidences. He doesn't do this, it happens because of the settling to lower places. Yesterday, I noticed that He is beginning to notice the effect. Are you reading this, Patrick? Don't matter, He won't understand. They never do, no matter how much evidence is presented. They will eventually get a hint, a sense of it.

Then comes the Forge.