I am used to being overwhelmed, at least in context. With experience, I am come to appreciate the intensity of a thunderstorm, especially when you are on an open balcony of a tall floor and the thunder event and lightening are very close (as measured by the delay between seeing the lightening and hearing the thunder, in one case as near zero as I can imagine). I have watched Pacific Ocean roller that were over 75 feet hit the beach head, feeling the land shudder and the spray fly past my face. Other events, physical and emotional, have been overwhelming as well.
I know my soul trembled. It is a mixture of fear, awe, and disbelief. It takes time to accept the details. Time also diminishes the experience and emotions. As I think of events now, I feel as if my body and soul are trying to help me cope. Details yes, but without the intensity. I can see specifics in my mind, yet I wonder if I am remembering things correctly. Even when I have independent verification like a newspaper report in front of me, my mind tells me that it really was not as extreme as recorded and experienced.
Most reflection drifts off here, my heart refusing to examine more of my life. I always find myself skipping the divinity experience. It is as if I am trying to humanize whatever I imagine the spirit to be. Divinity cannot be that big. Divinity must something more or less than what I imagine and think should be. Writer’s words, like the Psalmist, contrasts with the drift of my thoughts; “From heaven you thunder judgment; earth falls to her knees and holds her breath.” (Psalm 76.8)
I like to remind myself of the truth within my memories. I have gone back to see the rock face I climbed. Yes, it is as tall as I imagined. I have looked at the calm sea from the cliffs, remembering the rollers with disbelief. I imagine God as absent only to feel and see the Presence. It is overwhelming.