A moment of clarity

Much of life being spent preparing to record my pieces for my music therapy auditions. Is such a feat achievable in this timeframe? Is Beethoven’s grumpiness exaggerated by history? I hope to find the answer to at least one of these questions.

A few days ago, I had an unexpected moment of clarity, when time seems to stop still – a kairos for any Greek fanatics. I was in the throes of panic trying to engineer a way to get a medical evaluation form filled out for the application, when my old GP had apparently deleted any memory of me, and my subconscious hadn’t quite got round to registering with a more local one in the past two years.

I came home briefly, before running uphill to end the medical calamity. In the kitchen were two things that had arrived for me: a grade four violin book, and a refund for a train ticket. The book was from the period when I first learned, but I’d borrowed my teacher’s at the time, and now I needed it to practice my second instrument.

When I opened the envelopes, they released an almost ethereal sense of balance over me. The refund brought a minor sense of justice, but it was predominantly the music. The mere sight of the cover design almost transported me outside my senses, and gave me pause for thought. Unfortunately I had to charge out of the door thirty seconds later, to avert all my future dreams from being scuppered.

Upon reflection, in that moment, Jesus revealed his presence to me, not just in how I was preparing in my present, but as to how he’d been teaching me in the past, even as I was unaware. The music book was almost acting as a gateway to three places; my past and present, which I had and was experiencing. And now also my future. Not to say the notes were a seal of success, but a reminder that I could continue going forward, to make what is currently unknown, known.

Break the seal

Lately my life has been following the predictable cycle of lamenting how much social interaction I have to endure, pushing through this and actually enjoying it, then listening to electronica music in my spare time to wrap myself in a mood. After a strong, two-year stint, my music taste’s pop phase has just past its peak. Thank you Lady Gaga for starting this wild, wild journey, but now Lorde has enlightened me. 

It was after the fifth successive play of her Melodrama album that I experienced a pure worship moment, the kind I spend my whole life seeking, and then instantly strategising afterwards. I heard Jesus say, “Break the seal.” This provoked two thoughts:

“Why can’t he speak to me in normal words?”

“Dammit, looks like I’m going to have to read Revelation again.”

I saw a scroll that unfurled, and out of it came ribbons. I felt the scroll represented the order I expect, and assume, that life and certain scenarios will follow. But Holyspirit said that instead of a certain progression, or end point, he wanted me to aim towards a different target. The ribbons were symbolic of reaching unity with other people, rather than completing the scroll, on which was written what I thought should happen. By this point I was seriously confused, so resorted to the imagery contained in Naruto to help me.

Scrolls and seals are used often in the anime, and are linked to power. Power struggles, placement of power and increase in capacity are all themes that spring to my mind. Often, when a character uses a scroll, breaks a seal, or both, what follows is a release of energy or technique far beyond the expected, or their usual capacity.

Then underwent the uncomfortable act of reading Revelation. After ploughing through plenty of death, destruction, and questionable metaphors, I reached one, relevant conclusion. When a scroll opens, God is showing humanity a new level of spirituality. What follows is hard to imagine or cope with, because there is no previous frame of reference to deal with it.

How do these concepts merge? Not entirely sure yet, but keep praying, “Break the seal.” Maybe I’ll suddenly obtain the power of a sage, or go on a horseback rampage. But it definitely ties in with my need to have a different perspective, or insight, into my everyday.