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Deep

Martha heard someone describe me as “deep” a while ago.  And of course I took it as a compliment, although I’m not exactly sure what  my admirer meant. (I think it was right after she’d seen a Carl Jung book on my shelf.)   But it set me to pondering.  If being deep means that I want to look beneath the surface to see what’s really happening inside human minds, even to the ocean bed of the Unconscious, then I accept that adjective.  If she meant that I like to read books that draw me into the matrix of thought, dream, vision, and myth, then I agree with her.  If she meant that, because I’ve seen life at its best and worst…and have been in a few near-death moments, and now have little tolerance for the trivial and superficial, then she’s right on target.  If “deep” means appreciating the Wind of the Spirit and the ways in which God enters our lives through the beauty of Creation, the gift of conscience, the blessing of family and friends, and the ability to say, “Thank you” when I see a golden sunrise over the blue waters of the Gulf, then  I am indeed a deep man.  But not because of any effort of my own, for even the desire to go beyond and beneath the drudgery and the monotony of everyday living is a Heaven-sent gift to be treasured.

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