esson 31: Grail Castle

t's foggy and overcast as I begin my journey. The air is uniformly gray, and the sky is a great expanse of blankness. Is it nine or noon? I don't know.

   I want to travel west, but I'm not sure which way to go. Occasionally, great flocks of birds fly overhead, and I realize that they are migrating south. Nature usually provides some sort of compass. Walking along the shore, the sky begins to clear, and seems to mirror the blue of the sea. If the shore is a liminal space, between land (earth) and sea (water), is not the whole surface of the earth liminal as well, between land and sky?¹ 
   The weather is not yet so cold that I must keep my shoes on, so I take them off and enjoy the fine sand between my toes, as I walk the path approaching the Grail Castle. I pay respects to the two guardian trees, sympathizing with the difficulties of trying to grow "out of place." The sandy soil and salty water can't be the best for them.

   Approaching the castle, I think of a lighthouse. Of course, a lighthouse's purpose is to warn ships *away,* but man has morphed the symbol into a guiding light in the dark. Lighthouse--house of light. While the light and open doorway are inviting, why is there only one window? And not a window for air, light or a view, but an arrow slot for defense. Odd.
   The ground floor is a storage room for fishing nets, crab traps, poles and oars. I climb to the upper floor and discover a simple living chamber with a cot, table, etc. What really stands out is a shining shield hanging on the wall, with a red cross upon it. The silver reflects a lantern and magnifies the flame enough to lighten the whole interior of the castle.  
   It seems the inhabitant must be out fishing or some such, and I go outside to survey the landscape and look for him/her. Further down the shore, I come across something like a sand castle--a replica of the Grail Castle. There is only a feeble light within, and I wonder if this is someone's private sacred space.
   It feels sacred, but not private--or at least not restricted from seekers--and I enter. My eyes adjust to the gloom and thankfully there is a small lantern hanging from the ceiling. It is simply a candle set in the center of two crossed pieces of driftwood. Set into the ceiling are seashells in the form of a sun. Directly below is a hole in the ground, and as I walk to the edge, I see five steps leading down to a small landing and water filling the hole to the level of this landing, upon which a bucket sits.  
   I go down and sit on the steps, gazing at the surface of the water, and some questions come to mind (put there by the book, of course).

1.) What is the general direction of my spiritual path?

*Generally,* goodness, but no longer to t he total exclusion/suppression of self-interest. To see beyond the distractions of the McWorld and to value feelings and people over things and reputation.

 

2.) What clues and keys have illumined the way?

Many things! Primarily I think, the life of Jesus. (Was he a Christian?) On the one hand, he was a humble and meek servant. Yet he was not shy about telling off the Pharisees with harsh words, and he violently overthrew the money-changers in the temple. He lived and taught as he knew he was meant to, and didn't worry about his personal status or popularity. King of Kings--but not in the material world. Also, many conversations in which I had to explain my beliefs, thereby clarifying and strengthening them to myself.

 

3.) Which things remain unclear?

What's the purpose of it all??? When do we begin and end? How much of our beliefs are true, and how much have we made up?  

   I want to wash away the uncertainties. Taking a bucketful of water from the well, I toss it at the wall. It reminds me of washing the windows at home, as the water washes the darkness down like dirt. This reveals . . . a white wall, the blank rune!!!
   Slowly, writing appears on the wall: "Faith is the assured expectation of things hoped for, the evident demonstration of realities though not beheld."
   Hmm, without faith, it wouldn't *be* a spiritual path; it would be a material or scientific or some other path. If we had evidence, all the answers, what would be left to seek?

   Emerging back into the daylight, I take a deep breath of fresh sea air. Then I go back to the castle and climb up to the roof. The brisk and nippy air makes me nostalgic for Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas at home--times of abundance and giving.  
   The flying rats laugh at me, but I don't care.²

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1) "Liminal" spaces are sacred by nature of their being "between." {back}

2) You can always tell a true Floridian by how much they hate seagulls.