EIGHT DAYS IN A HOSPITAL

Reflections in poetry by Mike Bee

A little while ago, I was forced to spend eight days in an Auckland hospital. These are some reflections of that time, written through the lens of poems I wrote from my bed.

The first observation I make is that such a time gives a person many opportunities to look at life from a deeper perspective than the usual rushed thoughts and sense-perceptions. There were quite a few nights when sleep did not come, and the mind was active:

Night in a hospital

Lying in darkness beside one struggling for each breath,

he’s been a witness to the trials that Earth-existence brings.

This road is long,

and it is hard.

This road is long and hard

or seems so to the tiny figures struggling up the never-ending slope.

Night presses with the weight of a thousand obelisks.

Pluto moves through time relentlessly.

And his own body stretches out into infinity.

Lone figures look at him beseechingly,

and he is helpless to give them his assistance.

Night drives him with inexorable slowness

to solve its malevolent algorithms.

One such as he who is never tempted to despair

is rarely seen. Hands clutch at his heart

and pass right through him.

These are the trials that Earth-existence brings.At such a time, it is hard not to consider one’s own death. The day before I had had a vision of a candle, almost burnt to its end. Without losing my commitment to life, I had to ask if this was a picture of what was going to happen to me:

My life?

A phantom image outside my window

of a candle, burning low, spluttering, almost at an end...

Is this my life?

Much has been completed,

but the greatest task remains.

I will be working on it, certainly, in times ahead,

but will I work from this world or the next?

Those around me tell me clearly that they believe

that I must stay.

I do not know;

my will is only that I do the will of the ones who sent me.

Perhaps they’ll take that spluttering candle-flame

and find a way to extend its life.

Perhaps the greatest time is still ahead.

They know how warriors are needed on the earth

who see the truth and fight in faithfulness to it.

But they know as well how warriors are needed also in quite other realms.

Although boredom is a big part of such times, there is also a heightened perception of the significance of every moment. The very first poem I wrote was my musings about destiny and karma:

Karma

Only the belligerent and the stupid believe

that they can cheat the life to come

and unstitch the threads that they have stitched

in the tapestry of their karma.

No one can avoid the effects that they have caused.

Justice can be delayed;

it cannot be avoided.

What you have sowed shall certainly be reaped by you.

Whatever your beliefs, you’ll not evade

the destiny you are creating at this moment.

With every breath you are creating it.

It will reflect mysteriously the life you’re leading now.

Moved not by punishment but by desire for perfection,

you shape your life with the ones you’ll live it with.

As it is taking place, know that each soul who comes into your life

is precious to you ... for you are them,

and they are you.

In the world outside, big things were happening. The fulfillment of so much that I had witnessed in preparation was approaching, and the enemies of humanity, becoming more and more desperate, were showing how they were willing to bring us even into World War III if, in some way, that would allow them to hold onto their power. The world was slowly waking up to the fact that these individuals were prepared to destroy the world completely rather than admit defeat and go quietly into the night.

Despite the deep significance of these times, I never wrote about these things directly in these days. Only in the title of one was there a reference to the world-events that were approaching. (The title reflects those significant words of Q: “Only at the precipice will people find the will to change.”) Instead, I wrote about the microcosmic reflection of those world events, experienced simultaneously by me. I wrote about how it was to be committed to acceptance of destiny:

Towards the precipice

Observe the man who quietly can cast

all his achievements from him

as he comes towards the precipice.

Unburdened by greatness and by the illusions of greatness,

he surrenders all

at the gates of the unknown.

Desire for the future moves him;

he is content to leave the past behind.

He has no fear

to become again a child.

Gratitude for all that has been given to him

and love to those who’ve helped him on his way –

these are the tides that stir his soul.

They fill him with the joy of a life well lived

so that he thanks even those who have opposed him.

His soul is ready

for the crossing of the precipice.

Gratitude certainly became a major theme of this time, filling me more and more. These magnificent human beings whose task it was to look after me – to keep me alive and restore the strength of my heart – made deep impressions upon me.

Three or four years ago, when so many diabolical evils were unleashed into the world through a planned pandemic, the medical industry was such a threatening world. I vowed to keep it as far away from me as possible. Now here I was, trapped in the middle of it. Yes, some aspects were totally against my sensibilities – the wearing of masks and the absence of natural medicines. But I was encountering the system’s human side, and these human beings who served it were so full of humanity. Their compassion was a real force, assisting me each day in my recovery.

Multiple tests built up an image of what was happening in my heart. I accepted for now the medical system’s materialistic medicine, though I vowed that later I would find alternative treatments and gradually wean myself off what I was being prescribed. These medicines saved my life when I first entered the hospital with a heart going at more than twice the normal rate. (I was not jabbed – this seemed to stem from a condition I’d become aware of well before 2020.) Yes, I could feel how aspects of what I was encountering seemed to be persuading me to despair, just as world-events worked in the same way and tempted those who did not have faith in God or in humanity were tempted to despair:

Lake of fire

They wish to bring him to the place where movement dies.

They wish to capture him in Morpheus-nets.

They dangle them enticingly.

His eye is single,

and he passes by.

This is the place where thought is blocked

and feelings forcibly prevented from a glimpse

of the land for which he has poured out his longing.

This is the place where death is king,

and tiers of ugliness

seep down from his throne

and vanish into obscurity.

This is the place where the lake of fire

is burning constantly.

Immortal spirts come to bathe themselves in it.

They have the strength, ascending and descending,

to bring blessings to this place with streams of life and movement.

My soul was reaching out to the invisible help that was around me, and I became more aware of it than I had ever been before. And the people who sometimes visited but in much greater numbers sent words that signaled their prayers for my recovery – they were there with me also. The only good reason for living is to feel part of the great tapestry of life and to know that one is making a contribution to it, and this sense of completeness is what other people provided. They roused in me what I called the fire unquenchable. I could have stayed longer and my spirit would only have become stronger.

Fire unquenchable

Enlightenment

begins with a question.

The question grows

and becomes a dilemma

that never lets you rest.

If you give up,

that’s it – goodbye!

But if you keep on working at it,

eventually you’ll see the true light shining around you.

Never give up!

Let your will continually

be filled with fire –

unquenchable fire.

Only fire unquenchable

will carry you through darkness

to the place where the unfathomable dilemmas of the soul

are healed by light.

Then it came – the afternoon of being discharged. Thoughts of being back in Nature in my own home had been another reason to keep going; I had so much to live for. When it finally came, it was a strange experience to step into my own place and experience the difference between my imagination of it and how it actually was:

Home

Back in the sanctuary,

the beloved place –

lying in darkness, I’ve imagined it

so many times;

now here I am.

Now here I am,

and it is present all around me.

It’s not in my imagination anymore;

it is a solid fact of physical life surrounding me.

It is the space that contains those threads of thoughts

and layered feelings

that we’ve created here

and will create in times to come.

I am no longer lying in a hospital bed.

I’m here

with you.

And I am not dead.

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