While praying for the confirmation to burn my books, I was given a word from the Lord that inferred the following: Don’t worry about it because you have the eclipse. I figured that it was going to be nothing more than another mile stone in my life; it was something that I longed to see for most of my consciousness, but what I was unaware of was the absolute wonder that the Lord would display to me--not just in the phenomenon of the eclipse--but in the revelation revealed to me as I peered upon it.
Like most road trips, I prepared the music that I would listen to while I traveled. Bon Iver, Birdy, Trampled by Turtles, Soley, and—peculiarly enough—Veil of Maya were the players of this journey.
I got to spend the majority of the trip towards my destination speaking with a woman that I will one day call my wife. Through unnatural satellites we spoke about many things until the darkest hours of her night, and the brightest hours of my day. It was a pleasure to spend that time with her. I told her I loved her—through futile devices—for the first time since we decided to work towards a future together. My journey continued to mark miles in my life as our conversation faded, and I was on my own.
I saw plateaus manifested; much like I found myself spiritually on a plateau months ago, I saw in the distance the sudden rise of elevation. At its peak, it tapers upward into about fifty yards of flat land: an island in the sky. Upon these peaks were massive white windmills that gathered energy.
As I was viewing this site my CD player had reached track nine of the appropriately titled album Eclipse by Veil of Maya. A dear friend from Acadiana gave the record to me during my last visit to my homeland with the intent that I would find in my acoustic musicianship a respect for metal. The track—bearing the same title as the record—penetrated the seat of my emotions: a somber introduction that lands the listener into a droning genre contradicting circle that had me by the ears as it burned its unspoken message into my heart.
The narrative of Veil of Maya’s record is based on the story of a blind woman the band met in Europe whose vision was restored after starting directly at an eclipse. It was after hearing this song for the first time, recalling its narrative, and knowing what I was told by the Holy Dove, that I realized that I was on a intangible journey as much as I was on a tangible one.
I was tired from my drive when I arrived at Lubbock Lake National Historic Landmark: a very ancient and prehistoric place. There were statues of oversized armadillo, bison, and mammoths. I walked through the exhibits where they showed the grand exodus across Beringia, and into the Americas. The land is dedicated to an ancient spring fed lake that once existed until it dried up in the 1930’s due to modern day Americans digging water wells in the area. What was left behind is what would be an archeologist’s dream.
There I was, in a place that had been inhabited by human for thousands of years waiting for an event that would press into reaches far beyond my ordinary humanity.
A large covering of clouds had the view of the sun blocked for about an hour before the eclipse started. I was worried that it would prevent me from seeing the the show. With this, I soon began to recall my burned writings from 2007.
“It’s just eclipsing, and the overcast is commencing.”
A line from one of my songs—“Out of Aquarius”—from Constellation BluePrint, floated through my mind. This recollection brought a tear to my eye. What was once just a clever hook & a metaphor to one’s relationship with the Father, in a moment became fulfilled in my heart. The song had received its salvation from the fire that consumed it days before.
As the Moon’s transit began an applauds from the crowed followed. I covered my mouth, and again, tears filled my eyes as I watched the bottom right of the Sun begin to darken
The regeneration continued through out the event as I starred at the sun through the protection of a welder’s mask. Like the four hard corners of my writings of 2011--Monolith, the rectangular glass filtered the Sun in a green tent—like the image of the green sun that was assigned to “DreamCast & SolarFlare” in 2007.
The Sun soon set behind the clouds of the western horizon, so I was unable to see the entire event. I watched the sunbeams in the dusk light; my heart was filled with a joy & love of the Father that I was unable express through words, music, or any other futile device.
I was on my way home around nine that evening.
Tears filled my eyes as I waited at red lights in Lubbock to leave. Something that I’d longed to see for so long became the mile stone I thought it would’ve been, and was much more than that alone. The art that I’d burned earlier that week was given a soul purpose; it was as if the writings were all a prophecy that had finally come to fruition. What I thought those songs were about was destroyed in the flame, and were given a new life—something that only comes through Christ: made new through the vehicle of the eclipse.
On the ride home I reached speeds of at least 110mph on the back roads of West Texas. I sang hymns of praise to the Lord as I traveled. He had expressed a love to me that I’d not experienced before. I’d given myself to him in the book burning, and in return he showed his favor to me through the gift of the eclipse. He is the Lord of unequal exchange; for the small things we sacrifice, he gives back with an abundant return.
Standing outside my Civic peering into the night’s sky seeing for the first time an almost complete expanse I stopped on those dark roads that night to keep myself from the hypnosis of the early morning night. I’d never seen so many stars before. These were the main players in the writings of Constellation BluePrint, and finally--I’d seen them with my own eyes.
“…head for the stars…”