The Table

I’ve had a dream, of a place I’ve never seen. It’s a room but there are no walls, just a boundary between light and dark. In it is a large wooden table, cut out of the stuff of the earth. The table has no end and there is always just one more seat. There’s no lack of food, but that’s not the purpose of the table. The point is not what you eat while you sit there but who you’re sitting next to. There’s no pretension at the table; everyone is at ease with each other. There’s no ego to stroke or axe to grind at the table. Just stories. Everyone has a good story to share and everyone’s happy to listen. There’s a hundred different languages being spoken at once but no one seems to mind.

I think I’m dreaming about love in action. Actively loving the one’s you’re around. Freely giving of yourself and humbly receiving whatever others have to give. At the table we prefer one another in love and ask nothing in return. Our hearts are open and at ease. We never tire and we want for nothing. Anything we could have need of is in arms reach and our spirits are at rest.

I think it’s a pretty good dream.