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The Angel's Choir

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The Angel's Choir


It was a white night in February.


Like every night before a lecture, I was at Izgrev, curled up in my bed, awaiting the hour when I could go to the Hall. When the cold increased very much, I gathered all my courage, got up, dressed as quickly as I could and several minutes later the frosty snow crunched under my footsteps. Nearing the Hall I heard a song coming from that direction. I thought that I was late and quickened my pace.


The Hall was dark and empty, but the Master's room was lighted and from the balcony around it a beautiful song of tender angelic voices was streaming down ... an indescribable harmony of hundreds of voices ...


Although I was not invited and had no permission, I listened in ecstasy. An angel's choir around the room of the Master! What a night!


When the singing voices stopped, I went into the Hall and sat close to the stove, the wonderful angels' song still sounding in my consciousness.


Years passed.


I was having my summer vacation with the Brotherhood at the Rila Lakes. One afternoon I went for a walk to a farther lake called "The Twins." This lake was surrounded by a strange quietness and mysteriousness. I sat on the rock opposite the "Altar," the innermost side of the lake. There around the snowy ravine, formations looking like fossilized spirits were silently praying. They looked at themselves mirrored in the cold water of the lake and with patience awaited the day of their new birth. The soft wind tenderly caressed the surface of the water and small waves washed the shore, singing a soft song of gratitude.


And in that mysterious and majestic quietness one saw himself only as a soul and unwittingly felt deeply grateful to the Everlasting. The soul listened to the voice of the silence and in meditation hovered between earth and heaven.


During those sacred moments up there, before the "Altar," where the whiteness of the snow and the solidity of the rocks were in constant prayer, once again I heard the same choir which I had heard under the balcony of the Master in that faroff winter night.


I got up and stood still, rapt in gratitude to heaven for the blessing that the curtain to the realm of the unseen was slightly raised for me.


There, by that lake -The Twins - I heard for a second time that same angels' choir . . . and never again.



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