Letter II

December 2008 (Letter II)
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Dearest Mr. Darwin,

At this moment I can only imagine your very esteemed expression upon further reading.

Position yourself with a warm cup of tea, and prepare for the frequency with which I will elaborate vis-à-vis the predicament forgetting provides. My hope is that through this report you will sense profoundly my circumstance, and if making task of you is allowed, that by it’s end (or right now), you will tender reinforcement. To gain your consideration in this matter, if it is not mine already, pause and recall our shared studies, the strange fettered material that included our learning of Majesty’s realms, specifically those that appear to have formed without significant collective memory. You and others have traveled among these worlds and may not require drawn out explanation (indeed, you, or they, may have already set aside this written account to mount requested support). Yet, lest other associates express incredulity at the outlay of resources, perhaps you could set to plea on my behalf. For there is cause and gravity contained within this, the earthly journey. And gravity perhaps is cause enough. Now, I shall get on with my report.

This morning I found my body before rising tossing and turning, wondering why I continue to delay report, or, upon writing it is not sent. The answer came. Absurd as it might seem where you reside, my entire ability to remember that I was even commissioned to write to you at all arrived because of innocence. Long ago and on account of exemplary teaching stuffs that offer that each and every is truly and eternally without guilt, I learned of human innocence, and, indeed, the innocence of all. Yet it has been a hard one to integrate. Upon the hearing of it, immediately I knew it was true. Yet, to make it one’s own, even for I who have seen only myself, and perhaps one other, guilty to any great degree, find reporting on the subject, let alone acting out it’s truth, tricky. To make report that proposes the villains of earth may not be villains to Majesty congeals my will. (Note: the name villain will cause to mind a large array of ideas, specimens and things by those who would report upon said guilt). I fear laughter and hate will be thrust upon any who do so.

Majesty’s servant David conveyed so long ago, “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” A clear statement if I do say so myself. The one known as Jesus implored exquisitely and often, “You are the thing you seek,” and he surrender his body to guilt’s unreality. Examples of sinlessness are in all times and places, and, in faiths of all manner, the same and ubiquitous. The bigger challenge I am learning is not that specimens find each other guilty. Though it may not be admitted, perhaps we fault Majesty for our predicament. Yet, it seems to me Majesty knows nothing of this self-made plight, our separate thought, our madness at ourselves for having feigned to leave our now forgotten residence in Majesty. (For we could have never really left.) Is the surrender of guilt for our initial departure the prodigal son returning?

How unlike Majesty we seem. Yet, we are not guilty even of thinking or being unlike Majesty. I think only we think we are.

The sacred in paradox. I am thankful, Mr. Darwin, that you reside beyond it.

I will sign off for now. For accounting to you now has made me hungry.

Thank you for all, and patience. Your lovely reinforcement has been gratefully received.

Yours faithfully and forever,

Laura Bedford