Private moments are the space and capacity for peace.
There is an essence about them enfolding serene comfort.
When we are there, we are finally ourselves.
In those private moments, deep within the recesses of conscious thought, where nobody knows us but God, there, the cogent us is found. Deeper still is the mystery of us as we interact with our environments—in this reflective space it’s the environment of the psyche we traipse.
In those private moments, where the self-with-God is explored, and we live a happy acceptance, we gather pace in our acceptance of conscious reality. The senses breathe. We’re stayed within ourselves, no longer clawing away at our spiritual skin for lack of peace.
In our private moments, deep and dark, yet just as much wondrously illuminating, we step through doorways typically inaccessible through lack of permissible consciousness. We enter the garden of our spirits and attest to the fortitude of a Creator that dwells with us and with life itself.
In each private moment, as we trawl through an ambience altogether familiar, climbing the crests and wandering through valleys, we annotate our lives. Only there, in the midst of the tranquil second, do we attain to the presence of the living Lord. Only there does everything, just for the moment, make sense.
In the sheltering of the private moment, as opportunity is taken, and our presence is withdrawn from the availing scope of visibility, we find ourselves most blessed of all creatures. Here, it is known, we are infirmed of God; brought at once to the healing place.
In private moments, living as alone, and still never lonely, we know God. To the proportion of our self-abundance, to swim salubriously within our God-cajoled peace, added to us is a copious portion of sense for the moment that also informs the very-present future.
Private moments carrier us afar, taking us into the throes of the personal unknown, resplendent of both fears and joys, into the respite of life beyond life. In there is a fantasyland that transcends this burdening life, with its rolling hills and sweeping plains of nonchalance for all sorts of difficulty.
But private moments are never more real, as our consciousness keeps us to account, and with our spirits found lagging in the sensuality of hope, so we run yet again back into life; organised, refreshed, contented.
Entering into the cherished private moment is a soul’s privilege, bliss, and destiny.
© 2012 S. J. Wickham.