There are days that odd inspiration requires that I write certain things, and this is a direct result of walking home from work after missing the bus. It was late at night and suddenly I realized something... it all made sense. Ascension, so I realized, is like a pair of polished black leather shoes.
Allow me to make sense of that.
As most of my generation and those in my line of work, I own a pair of black leather shoes of some distinguished quality. The one thing these shoes always require is cleaning and polishing. Not only is this necessary, it is expected that they gleam. By being unemployed for over a year, and having gone through a crisis of personality a while back, I started to neglect this necessary maintenance, and they became quite dirty and scuffed indeed. Now that I am feeling once more like myself, they are again well cared for, but... there is a scuffed and dull patch just at the tips that I can no longer polish away. The sides are marked and the soles well worn, tell tale marks of pounding the same stretch of marble floor for hours on end.
But as I was walking home from work, glancing down in the gloom of the night and the dull light of the street lamps, I suddenly noticed... my shoes gleamed like before. The scuff was still there, as were the marks, but that was invisible in the darkness. All anyone would see while looking at my shoes was a well polished pair of black shoes, standing out in the darkness as they reflected the light around them in a visage of perfection.
And so it is with our lives, with our spiritual progress, and Ascension. It is truly like a pair of polished black shoes...
In the darkness that surrounds us, with the light slowly filtering through, it doesn't matter if there are some scuff marks on your soul, it doesn't matter if you have not attained perfection in all things. What matters is that you are trying, that you have in fact polished your shoes. When walking around in darkness, the light will gleam off that which is clear, that which has gone through the effort of being cleaned, but the light will also mercifully obscure that which is not entirely perfect. In the bright light of my room, the scuff marks are plain as day, just as I can see my personal failings and areas of myself yet to be improved, but that is only because I know they are there, and because the light I shine in my room allows me to scrutinize such small imperfections.
But all anyone sees as I greet them in the weak glow of the light, as it shines through the darkness, is a pair of perfectly polished black leather shoes.