From DH

There it is, the Douglas DC-6 SE-BDY / the instrument of my destruction. The mechanics are doing the last checks of the engines, but men have no knowledge of Divine Intention much less His last minute interventions. This is an ordinary day of September l8 in the Year of Our Lord _1961 and I sit at the airport surrounded by security guards and secret service agents whose eyes swivel like gun turrets in every direction. I will be flying in order to, hopefully, negotiate a peace fire between non combatant United Nations forces and the Katangese troops of Moise Tshombe. I hope for a resolution of the parties involved in this conflict; however, hope is not enough to win the day and seldom does when so many conflicting and powerful forces hold sway. I serve because I am called to serve and (as I have said before) I would rather live my life as if there is a God.  A man like me who is an agent of social service may be physically protected but such protection is not absolute; in any case, he can never be protected from himself. When you read this letter, (which I intend to post) remember there are no accidents. There are only intentions.

I have no fear. Perhaps it will be like opening the door to another room, a room I cannot see where the walls open into light. Words, however eloquent, fail to describe a reality of which the human mind cannot conceive. I have no grief. I have done the best I can depending on my knowledge at the time. Everything changes each moment, and one looks back and wishes one could use one’s current wisdom to alter the past, but that is science fiction. That I have failed to do enough is my regret.
I am staring at the glistening black bark of each tree and how the tangled branches form a latticework against the bright blue sky. The yellow and russet maple leaves shimmy with delight. When one says goodbye,  the physical world moves closer so the things one never paid much attention to parade before one’s startled eyes.

So here I sit in spite of a lousy night’s sleep. I beg the person who reads this letter, to hand it to a publisher.

If I got down on my hands and knees to plead with the people in my entourage not to board this plane, they would think I lost my mind. After all, I am the Secretary General of the United Nations, the peacekeeping force of the world.
To fly does not guarantee one will arrive. We have no choice as long as we are alive.  St.Teresa of Avila referred to man as a worm in the sight of the Divine. We strive but few are blessed to step across the threshold of the first room of the Castle she attempted to describe.  All she could say is we carry a spark of the Divine within, we remain loved by Him and nothing He created ever dies. I trust I am not getting maudlin here.

I am tired and lose track of where I am going with this letter and that is because I have been looking at the clock even though I know time is our invention and only succeeds in imposing artificial limitations. There are markers on the way one can discern; each marker leads to the next. You must walk step by step. We are seeds thrust into the dark and land either in torrential rains or scorching sun either in fertile or barren ground from which we must sprout. We must endure the elements and push towards light, skirt around obstacles beyond our wildest imagination. The way a life ends, whether we die in sleep or at the hands of a lunatic or an assassin makes no difference.

Does one fly to a higher dimension or is one called/Is there a summit or conclusion to any of our efforts/ Does it make any difference whether we leave here sooner or later/ I, like you, have had visions in dreams that I did not understand. I have made plans that were destroyed. I have been given and made promises that were broken; I have suffered the loss of love and the ills of flesh.
I know I do not sound modern here but more like a medieval man so I trust you will somehow understand what I attempt to convey. If not, I pray you may find a translator.

We are notes in a song NONE OF US CAN HEAR. I bow my head in gratitude that I have been used in this way to serve His will.
I must board now.
Dag H.