A skerrick from a bursting sense of maddening anger, the undivided cell is the fact of our mental, emotional and spiritual oneness. It’s that juxtaposed place of utopia in the presence of intrapersonal chaos—an inexplicable peace pervading over us as we fight for our sanity. We’re self-protected for some bizarre reason, probably because we’re inexplicably withdrawn.
The undivided cell is the time of surety in the midst of whatever; no exceptions. It’s not dependent on situations. It’s a moment, almost nothing longer, where we feel flawlessly adjacent to our truest ourselves.
These moments we’re thankful for, for they save us; from the errant word, from the poor decision, from the crime of passion. It shouldn’t be this easy but strangely it is.
This is a mode of being that we can attract. We can have more of it. But it can’t happen without faith—faith’s essential. For it is faith that informs the mind of patience beyond what is, at that time, reasonable. It’s faith that deadens the gilt edge of pain, frustration, impertinence or anxiety, bringing to them an acceptability of sufficiency; a capacity of triumph.
Digging into the fibres of this abiding faith we extract threads of bold courage and focus—a certain deafness to the damaging reality. We’re not distractible. Just for this time. Again, we have no rationale for it; it just is.
Call it ‘the zone’ if you will. Call it anything; we just love being there, because it’s a state of mind bringing us invincibility—again, for this treasured time all things are brought together for a purpose beyond the making of us.
Perpetuating the time and making it a regular intrapersonal reality is our goal, and to that end we work on our faith and are so masochistically grateful of those crumbling opportunities that would ordinarily grate upon us, for these very things are our training grounds toward faith.
© S. J. Wickham, 2009.