whiskey soaked ancient peace

A deep baritone lament hung in the hollow of his silence. It reverberated through the timbre of his confused thoughts as he lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips. Alone, sitting soundly in his leather chair at a time when the rest of the world seemed fast asleep, he wondered where his life was going to take him. So many pressures, so many complications piled up all around him that he found it almost impossible to drive a wedge through to sunlight.

Today, he closed his shop for good. He never thought he'd see the day. Today, he left his passion on top of the last pile he swept up off the floor and when he walked through the door for the last time, he felt beaten down. Left without a map, he knew he was stepping into what felt like an abyss. Or maybe it was perdition......his soul felt detached from his body. Where had he gone wrong, he wondered for the thousandth time as he swallowed deeply? How had this happened?

He felt numb. His only wish was to soften the numbness tonight.....to drink enough to drive his anger, his grief, his sorrow far enough away so that there was room to find a resting place where that ever elusive tranquility hung. But, it seemed like that blue water tranquility was only a mirage.

He hadn't felt relief in months and it showed in the dark circles under his eyes, in the haunting settled in his eyes. Others relied on him to be the provider, to be the anchor and here he was adrift, floating aimlessly in swift currents. Failure....failure.....he felt like a complete and utterly broken man. And the only thing he could think of were his desire to escape. He wanted to run away. Rock bottom and alone, he had to shore himself up to stay and face the music.

As he grabbed the bottle and poured himself another full tumbler, the night began to swallow him whole. His thoughts rushed together like a head on train crash. The sound, a combination of clashing cymbals and the high pitched of metal on metal brakes felt like it hit the front of the inside of his head with a wild cacophony of fear. Tinnitus of the spirit. It made him feel sick to his stomach. The only thing he could think of was to sit in the silent soaked in regret. There was nothing to look forward to in the morning.....nothing that couldn't be done on any other day. He felt so far removed from the rest of the world. The thought of seeing himself sitting on the sidelines while everyone else got up and went to work, school....destinations.....made him feel so shivery alone.

Lost in complete self-absorbed mourning, he neglected to hear anyone enter the room to turn on the stereo. All of a sudden, music was playing softly through the dark tunnel he was sitting in. It was a melodic comforting hymn which instead of disrupting his thoughts, fell into them with a soothing balm.....he recognized the voice and the song....and could feel it's aural massage lifting him out of himself. He could hear his breathing deepen in a calm. Instead of thinking of his situation, he began to pull himself into the tune.

Beside the garden walls,
We walk in haunts of ancient peace.
At night we rest and go to sleep
In haunts of ancient peace.

The love and light we seek,
The words we do not need to speak,
Here in this wondrous way we keep
These haunts of ancient peace.
Let us go there again
When we need some relief
Oh, when I can't find my feet
When I need rest and sleep.

The Sunday bells they chime
Around the countryside and towns
A song of harmony and rhyme
In haunts of ancient peace.
The holy grail we seek
On down by haunts of ancient peace.
We see the new Jerusalem
In haunts of ancient peace.

Oh, when I can't find my feet
Oh, when I need some relief
One more time again.
You know I want to go there one more time again.
Be still in haunts of ancient peace.


"Be still," whispered the voice in the room. "Be still and let me sit with you. Let's share a glass of whiskey friend. You are not alone....."

The broken man leaned over and poured the stranger a glass and handed it to him in silence. When he looked up at him however, even through the darknight, he could see the man's face.....saw a friendly smile, felt his calmness, saw the familiarity in his caring eyes. He took in the soft light which seemed to emanate kindness and love all around the stranger. Strangely, the encounter seemed like a natural happening, not an invasion of his home. Rather, it felt like a meeting between two old friends.

The man invited the stranger to sit down in the chair next to him, but the stranger chose to sit quietly on the rug in front of the man. As the music played on like soothing bathwater pouring in the background, the stranger whispered....

"Tell me your sorrows.....let me help you carry them."

Within the loving trust between two, the man sat and wept. Jesus, leaned forward, put his hand on the man's knee and wept too.

The words we do not need to speak,
Here in this wondrous way we keep
These haunts of ancient peace.
Let us go there again
When we need some relief
Oh, when I can't find my feet
When I need rest and sleep

be still........

the night will soon turn to dawn.

ps. the lyrics and song by Van Morrison...a hymn which always helps me find my own stillness