Flash Fiction

THE ART OF DISCERNMENT                                               

Martha chooses the space, this luscious place for us to meet and greet.

The Art Gallery of NSW Members’ Room is soft and welcoming, with its warm, silent carpet of beige and its darkly wooden tables overlooking fern and sky.

We are to celebrate four hours of being together, with lunch, writing and talking of friendship. We are soft as sand and soft of manner, we sisters of the Finke, that ancient river in Australia where we met and slept in swags by the river long ago.

 We do no harm, as gently we share the abundance of our lives and serve up our stories for entrees. Our talk is gentle; we share different opinions with respect, and appreciate different points of view.

The art of Discernment is a lesson that we learn through the trials of time.  It is good that I learned this lesson today, because I had need of Discernment that evening. I said “No” to someone who wanted to come and live in my home, and I used diplomacy with my “No”.  I cannot live with anyone who looks through a glass, darkly.

Martha said of Psychology, “All we learn is a new vocabulary for common sense.”

Ulli whispers of a sacred chord, “Solfeggio, in music”, she explains “the lighter we travel, the lighter we become.

She calls me, “Your Royal Jollyness,” and I respond with a smile because we know that I have a super sensitive nature that is protected by the bravado that has become my second skin.

We speak of numbers and of Martha’s high vibrations, and her healing powers.  She is an example of someone who is a plus person on this planet.

Pythagoras of Samos pops up into our conversation and we talk of different types of reincarnation. Our mission is stimulated in finding out the origin of the calendar, a noble quest.

These gathering of friends with a common chord sing to my soul and strengthen me. I woke up singing this morning.