To my horror I realized my growing addiction to Thrillers.
Exorcist though was ugly- boring. Omen more aethestically thrilling, clever. Sure I was nose-deep – in Love for the Sacred, but just about nose deep. Like a deep sea diver that flip flops with mere sand crab.
One noon, my 7 months pregnant self, watching a thriller, when sudden high volume- killer -bgm thwacked ear drum; our lil one inside kicked, like in fright.
Here we were: in our modest apartment: post-lunch, home chappals … yet visiting intimate angles with paid actors, ‘villians’, sfx, editors, cameras, soundtracks all chin- close with unborn babe and I,
for want of better words, this was a Getogether of privacies stripped, throat slit, blood darkening in bullet-plucked carpet of movie set: naked corpse & neat house constructed to be smashed in choreographed rage. What if like passive smokers, babe and I passively inhaled that, only to spill it out somewhere sometime??
This, my Sacred Friend began to convey back then and now as I write this Post:
“What makes you really tremble, Ray?” the Sacred Nudge nudges.
Trembly spirit feels lesser self – possessed, then stares outside Self, into unseen influence. It can sort Fakes from Friend.
A good Friend will call out the Bully, its mouth with hell cursing me to consume Its screams. Before I fully got the impact of Grace (God’s love and pardon for the undeserving like I):
Christ was from heaven ofcourse, but could we engage 24x7x n ?? What were sacred emotions? Its taken me years to get these next two words:
Eternal perspective: that’s the Emotion I share with my Sacred Friend. He’s no seasonal Block buster, or rented redeemer. The Blood here is real, the punches taken for me, ( 4D, ah 7D super virtuality?) No one else died for me, not like that: not cussing but blessing, not dead, but alive. Ay my soul ‘trembles’ here alone, like new leaf in a storm, unshooken.
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