Thursday, October 14, 2010

The Miners Gold

(by R.P.Edwards)

Mortar and pestle
Fire…and time
All bring reduction
To purge…and refine
And life is no different
The wear…and the years
The grinding…and growing
From cloudy…to clear

And so, the thirty-three, no, thirty-four…come up from the mine.  Thirty three ordinary men; ordinary no more. And a silent…all important…essential…other.

In recent days the Chilean--world captivating--drama concluded.  The story of thirty-three miners trapped nearly a half mile below the surface of the earth. As you recall; there was a gold and copper mine; a terrible cave-in; and a leader who stepped up to guide the others…to survival.

Sure, there are a lot of angles to this story and, no doubt, in the coming weeks and months we’ll see the movie, and there will be books, and many, many interviews.  Yes, we’ll learn of the exact why’s of the collapse; the history of the company and the mine and every intimate detail of every person involved:  the miners, their wives (one mistress), the children and each and every contributor to the rescue.  I suppose even God will be given his due.

And, it is here I want to pause for just a moment.  For, you see, the miners--diggers of gold, mind you--in one horrible moment the monetary value of the lusted after metal fell to…nothing (contrary to the media salespeople who say it never reaches that point.)  Yes, in a loud, frightening, stopping of the clock moment, their lives began to take on the worth they always had, but the perception of which was blocked, clouded, cluttered by the endless non-essentials that consume our time.  And, I imagine, as the thought of a quick rescue faded (remember, it took seventeen full days to confirm their survival), I imagine, with each successive hour, that their thoughts began to be grounded even more; perhaps even to the point of pondering life’s passing, and their ultimate relationship with the thirty-fourth man.

Well, I’m sure other, more able writers will lend their talents to this momentous event and, when we eventually read or see their work we‘ll be touched anew.  But, let me just conclude with this simple thought:  These thirty-three "ordinary" men were given the rare gift of undiluted time; time to discover, or reacquaint themselves with what’s really important in this brief span we call…life.  And, if you will, after the roof fell, and their hands were constrained from their vocation; they continued to be miners (albeit reluctant); miners...digging the depths of their own individual souls. discover the most precious element…of all.

 “I've been a miner for a heart of gold” 
 Neil Young


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