Accompanied

Isn't it strange how vivid our thoughts can be, and half ours, half their own creature.

For the past week I have been thinking of my old Ethics professor, Jack Mahoney SJ, who found my spiritual advisor for me. He had a wonderful office which seemed to be carved out of the loft space of the church at Kings, reeking of cigarettes; you had to climb ever upward to get to it, and then I remember a muddle of sloped wooden ceilings, blocked windows onto the aisle, every surface covered with books and papers, and lead roofs and pigeons beyond the window. Such a dear man.

The question is: what is in the ether to bring individuals to mind so clearly they could be in the room? It IS communication, like waking from a dream which is an engrossing, vital meeting of minds.

When my father died, for days afterwards I had a feeling that he was walking in the Dales, they were fresh and green, and he was letting me know that he felt so well! Was I just imagining him back in the scenes of his youth? It was as real as anything else I have known.