Leave an Empty Chair by Your Bedside -- You'll See!

Perhaps, you too, just like the vast majority of us, in our waking and walking delusional existence, might very well have pompously professed the following sentiment: " I'll believe it when I see it." Really? Is that so? Are you sure that it might not be the other way around instead? As in, "I'll see it when I believe it?" Hence, my friends, just in case, the synapses of your brain have yet to connect the neuronal dots of comprehension to this revelation, I do suggest that you leave an empty chair at your bedside, for it may come in handy in the darker days of your life -- I'm almost certain that you will begin to SEE IT with eye-opening clarity by the conclusion of the following story:

A priest visiting a patient in his home noticed an empty chair at his bedside and asked what it was doing there. The patient said, " I had placed Jesus on the chair and was talking to him before you arrived ... For years I found it extremely difficult to pray until a friend explained to me that prayer was a matter of talking to Jesus. He told me to place an empty chair nearby, to imagine Jesus sitting on the chair, and to speak with him and listen to what he says to me in reply. I've had no difficulty praying ever since."

Some days later, so the story goes, the daughter of the patient came to the rectory to inform the priest that her father had died. She said, "I left him alone for a couple of hours. He seemed so peaceful. When I got back to the room I found him dead. I noticed a strange thing, though: his head was resting not on the bed but on a chair that was beside his bed.

Tell Me Again, and Again, and Forever Again ... Hok Che Badme Toon

A couple of days ago I was listening to an arrangement, by Arpie Dadoyan, titled "Ov Bidi Lseh? Hok Che Yerke Toon", which loosely translates to: " Who will listen to you? but sing anyway". Well, just today, in my daily reading, I chanced upon the answer to Dadoyan's yearning clearly reflected in the following prophetic line of that said hymn. "... tell me the old, old story for those who know it best, hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest." My take? -- When artistic expression of any human being is not conditionally forged upon a targeted audience's receptive embrace, the detachment from its results always attracts the most satiated souls out of the clouds to hearken, ad infinitum, the "same-old-story" with child-like wonder and glee. That my friends is, simply, beatific divine intervention. Just think! think!! need to think here.