The Holy Cave

Brian was finally allowed to enter the Holy Cave. After the bumpy flight with bad food, the mix up with hotel reservations, the long ride on a crowded bus, the endless wait in line, he was now at one of the most sacred places of all human culture. A hub of five religions. The site of human communication with God.

The cave offered a breath of cool air, so important on a dry hot day as this one. The cave was peaceful and quiet. The cave was lit up by hundreds of tiny candles. (Who lights them up? Are they gas lights?) The cave was manned by polite priests in ancient robes who showed the way into the main chamber.

Brian stood at the center of the main chamber and he opened himself to the world of the divine. He ignored the drawings on the wall, they were made by those before him, and he looked at the black hole in the middle of the ceiling. This is where the prophets and the witch doctors saw God and fell to their knees listening to His voice. Brian trembled in anticipation.

“What went wrong?” he kept asking himself on the way out. “Did I get distracted by the trivial matters of everyday life? Did I not meditate enough in preparation for this? Perhaps I am not worthy?”

When he reached the exit, the light of day blinded him and noise flooded his ears. He saw an ocean of pilgrims waiting their turn, living their lives at the precipice of the divine. Selling chickens out of wheelbarrows.

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