7.29.10

Feeling alone today. Surrounded by the great pearl of god's power and grace, and all the saints, but still alone. Reminds me what Merton said about the new monks: once the thrill of wearing the habit wears off--there is a great period of pain before the novice gets used to the REALITY of the monastic life. Perhaps that's where i am. I do feel like a religious. Well, I have never been one so I don't know: but still, it's different. I feel as though I took my initial vows about 2 years ago, and now am facing my 'intermediate' vows. or have just taken them. my final vows are still in the distance.

o god. i have become a thing not human. my body no longer encases me. my spirit moves in and out of my body with no concern for spatial reality. sometimes it seems i am missing, and my body begins to shut down on its own.

even if he slay me, yet will I trust HIM.

7.28.10

I recommend reading the right-hand column of Sr. Laurel's blog: it has some great quotes about the eremitic life. Funny: they sound just like what the mystic, the Gnostic and any contemplative is striving for. This seems to me to lead even more credence to the statement by Rahner that soon, there will be no Christians unless they are mystics.

7.28.10

Sr. Laurel is always good for great insights into the spiritual life. I liked her post here on 'desiring mystical experiences.'

I believe that mystical experiences are indeed seductive. And to the mystic who desires the milk and honey of these experiences, do not cease in your seeking but in every moment allow the spirit to overwhelm you with grace. Some experience daily, moment-by-moment 'mystical' experiences every day of their lives. Some, only for a time; others, rarely. But to seek continually is good and holy.

There are only two cautions: a) sometimes mystical experiences take you where you fear to go. If you do not 'go' to the frightening places, then you are allowing your own will to override the higher will of the God-in-you. Never place any bounds on what you 'see' 'hear' 'touch' or 'feel' in those experiences. And always write them down. The longer you are able to withstand riding on the tiger's back, the longer you can stand or sit under the fire hose power of god's cleansing waters, the more you will rejoice, AND BE AFRAID and yet find greater peace. "Mystical" experiences are NOT spiritual candy to be doled out. That is WRONG. Mystical experiences are a way of life and for most individuals, they CAN be a daily experience life-long. There is never TOO MUCH of the visions, NEVER 'too much' of the divine joy and grace of the mystical life. I say 'bah' to those that would seek to bind you with guilt that you are a 'spiritual glutton' 'spiritually immature', etc., etc., (even subtly). Be bold! AND YET . . .

b) Sometimes when you open yourself to prayer, there will be 'nothing.' YET, this too IS mystical. Allow darkness, nothingness, silence, pain, anguish, all of these, to be just as holy as the amazing visions of 4-headed angels (or whatever). Fear not: there are layers and layers and layers to work through until you reach full unity with the Divine. And even then, there are layers still. The work never ends. The point is to be fully open to God. I believe that the failure of many in our traditions is that we do not push far enough into that other realm. If we truly seek it, we will always, ALWAYS be led to good works (not by design, but naturally) and also to full honesty with ourselves. And to wholeness.

So, in reality, there are NO warnings and NO concerns. Throw yourself from the precipice of your rational understanding and fear not to hit the ground. Whatever you experience, treasure in your heart. And do NOT let the skepticism of anyone daunt you. However, it IS best to keep your experiences to yourself, perhaps only relating them to ONE individual that you know is a fearless contemplative. If you receive words of caution and reservation from them, however, cease talking to them. You must pursue your 'folly' to find wisdom. Follow the injunction of St. Clare!!!!!!! (quoted at the top of this blog).

That doesn't mean that the mystical life isn't 'dangerous'. Far from it. But if you persist in what you know to be true on the inside, you will be fine. The point is to trust, trust, and trust again.

To anyone who tells you differently say (inside) "get behind me!".

7.28.10

cover thy face.
cover thy body.
let no one see your eyes.
let no spirit see thy hands.

for thou are holy.
to look upon you, unprepared, is death.

even as moses came down from on high
and a covering was made for his face
for the light that came from it was pain and death to those who saw it.

even so, your entire body shall be made like unto the powerful rays of the sun at midday.
to look upon you will be suffering to the impure.

but to the few, blessing and healing.

7.27.10

prayer is like working magic tricks--a child could do it---with 20 years experience.

my experience today felt like that. it was simple---but it's taken me 29 years of prayer and lots of trial and error to get there.

7.26.10

in my lonliness, i sometimes wonder if it would be safe to ask to be freed from it.
perhaps i am safer in my world of beauty, of exquisite pains, of sweet nothings.
the occasional passerby seems to intersect a part of my world from time to time, but like a traveler from another place altogether other, their eyes can see only what they expect, and so, see little. i try to show them my prized roses, but they can see only ashes.

but perhaps, my garden grows best in solitude. and even, on occasion, my blessed trees, my beloved vines, and my precious flowers ask me to leave them in further solitude for a spell. they have their own secret rites as well. when they invite me back in, all is more wondrous than before.

so, i garden and bask and love and cry and fear nearly alone. and perhaps the once-in-a-while visitor makes it all the more sweet.

7.25.10

what is god, religion, faith, prayer. and why.
if theosis is a reality, and achieved, then what?

and so, if we are become the heart of god, what shall we do?
as i do not know, i can only imitate based on wild guesses.

i'll presume creation, love of beauty, sensuality, sporadic spurts of destruction, but never total.

so off i go.

7.23.10

Love Mgsr. Jordan's newest post. "Fern-ness". Priceless. Very zen.

He made a comment about how hard the AJC seminary process is and that most seminarians give up. I'm sure it's true, although it's true of the big churches, too. It's funny, and although I'm not an AJC seminarian, my own seminary experience is similar. My Bishop just this week told me what I need to 'become' (I already know what I need to 'do') in order to just enter the deaconate (as to the former up to now it's always been, 'we'll see'). You wouldn't believe the answer even if i told you. But I'm not in the least perturbed, ruffled or even surprised. I'm too busy being a 'fern.' Although I'm a pretty sexy fern, so that's something . . . . I can feel my fronds, my stem, and roots going down into the holy soil. And the fine mist. It is enough.

Thanks Jordan. You've nailed it again!

7.22.10

auger red.
pot of black.
woad in abundance.
stain me now. cover me. let my body be the book of the law.
may my flesh be a holy icon.

my lidded eyes have secrets. my arms show the might of god.
my back his symbols esoteric and terrible.
runes of glory, runes of power, runes of death on my chest, my ribs, my loins.
on my legs, the hope of glory.
i have become the ****. the **** cannot be named.

if you are ready to die, to lay your flesh on the ground, to let your mind be consumed, you may read my body with your fingers. and the burning shall not stop until your madness is consumed.

i shall do with you things more terrible than you can imagine, my eyes alone pierce and cut to your heart. i pierce bone and sinew. the merest touch of my finger would slay the greatest demon inside you.

that is enough.

only those who need me not may lie with me. and then why? for my union is the union with all things.

beware, as your eyes will spin, the world a void, the stars brighter than suns, the darkness welcome.

do you not yet see? I am the hunter of men. you shall die, your blood nurturing the virgin grass. and from your corpse, from your corpse, from your corpse i say, shall come a new heaven and a new earth.

7.21.10

"Condemned to Freedom." Read Hoeller's quite excellent essay (not without its flaws, I'll put in) on sexuality. I particularly love his reference to the British quip: “Do what you wish, but don’t do it in the road and frighten the horses.”

7.20.10

And there shall be no other.

And you shall see well with only darkness to light your path.

The light of others shall blind you. And so you don the holy vestments that I provide, vestments that cover your head, and eyes, and body pure.

And you shall walk, walk with faith beyond faith. For you know nothing of any world other than the ground beneath your feet; yet, you walk confidently, like a field-marshall across his battlefield, like a wizard to meet the opposing army, like a priest of the holy fire confronting evil.

There shall be no foe that shall daunt you.

For you are bereft of fear, abandoned by pain, ignored by death. You know only your purpose, sealed and tattooed and branded and scarred into your flesh. Your flesh so holy and white, so pure and fragrant--it is as iron upon iron, steel over steel, ivory new over fire.

Walk uprightly! Your every stride is a conquering. Your every heart-beat is of a victorious tyrant over lands long lusted-for.

Arise! Be taken up into the highest heaven! For you are a prophet who in every moment has fulfilled his calling. Each prickle of a hair against your skin is greater than the collision of worlds.

Praise! Glory! Exaltation! This life, this life is only for those who can accept much pleasure, laugh at tears and smile at pains, wounds to the bone are as flies at soup.

Your will is unbearable, unbreakable. For if it were to break, the world would collapse in ash and putrefaction. The sun would sink into nothingness and the cosmos dissolve. You are the backbone of the ages. The superstructure of all things. Fear! Loathing! Unbearable Light!

And they wonder why we cover ourselves in prayer.

Oh God! O Will! O Love! O my soul! Care for the souls near us. Let them not die in ashes, but let our grace protect them from us. So that we may love also and destroy only that which is not Us, not You, not Holy.

And the burdens, crushing, of immortal power and flame and smoke crush us down to death, yet we find the smallest of crevices in which to yet breathe, command, act. We live to live; breathe to breathe, we eat to eat. And in our hands, powers unnameable.

7.20.10

I've had fun with my other (professional) blog today. take a visit----it's all about "ruthlessness". I think we as mystics/gnostics/nonconforming participants in this great process of universal theosis, will find the below song and video extremely satisfying, ironic, and thought-provoking. Take a look. Afterwards, if you are interested, you can visit my other site (it's all about professional development, etc.) here.

The Calling - Wherever You Will Go (Official Music Video). Watch more top selected videos about: The Calling

7.17.10

i have one physical challenge that occasionally is not ameliorated by medication. today is one of those days. makes every movement, every breath, every thought and action close to unbearable. the only relief is my holy work. so i'm looking forward to my afternoon quiet time. alot.

peace to all those who deal with pain of whatever sort every day---i am so thankful that i experience my disability only once a month or less. (well, that's with the perspective, somewhat suspect, that my 'normal' functioning is, well, 'normal'). ;-)

blessings,
p

A Diversion---The (Inverted) Theology of the LOTR

OK. Am I the ONLY one to notice that maybe, JUST MAYBE, JRR Tolkien was either anti-gnostic (unconsciously) or PURPOSELY made the conflict in the LOTR ambiguous--so ambiguous that perhaps we are intended to think about the story THE OTHER WAY AROUND???!!!

I mean, the symbol of the oneness of a ring seems holy enough; and it certainly seems that dwarves and elves have been in rebellion against their ring-giver (liege) (Sauron). And it also seems clear that the great kings who were given their nine rings have immortal life. Why is this picture starting to look all 'slanty'? Have we noticed that the world of men has DIMINISHED since Sauron was rejected and allegedly defeated? Why have they not REPOPULATED in 3 thousand years? Come on. It doesn't take that long. Orcs are derisively called hideous and weak and wrecked elves: but what else WOULD you call elves who made the OTHER decision; the decision to stay loyal to the POWER in Middle-Earth? And besides, there is no question that the elves are navel-gazing quitters. They care little (if anything) for any other life form and at any rate are taking their leave of the Earth for no apparent reason other than their own whim. If Sauron is SO EVIL, why not stay and fight? Also, any possible CONNECTION with Sauron (the palantiri) is considered to drive men mad or evil. Hmm. It all very much smacks of 'he who wins the battle writes the history'. And the story, if one is a little creative, could be written entirely from another perspective (a la "Wicked" vs. "The Wizard of Oz."

For example, is it not true that Sauron's kingdom, while employing physical creatures, is one "not of this earth"? Is it not true that wearing the ONE RING gives the wearer the ability to see another realm--a spiritual realm that becomes more and more real while the physical reality becomes more and more dim and shadowy? Doesn't this sound just like what the mystical / gnostic life is like?

I won't belabor it, but I get the feeling that this book is all wrong, and perhaps intentionally so: just like the Rabbis of old telling the people NOT to read or think about certain passages--only for their own good (that is, for the stupid and lazy) and only to challenge the worthy (to break their injunction and find the sweet, hidden truths within Torah).

Just a thought.

That, and I think Balrogs are really, really cool. How could something so cool be evil? After all, who disturbed WHOSE dwelling? Who trespassed against WHOSE dominion?

And I can't help but put in the parting shot about the Rohirrim---whose land was STOLEN from the native inhabitants and given to them by a more powerful king (Gondor), and nurtured a 1000 year enmity. What does THAT sound like, eh?

Just riffing . . . . .

7.16.10

my heart fills my entire chest. my throat always constricted.
my eyes always closed, even if open.
there are no words for *it*. all things and all knowledge melt away.
i sit for hours, just being ONE.

but when i act, it is the right action.
if i move my finger, it is to curse or bless.
if i move my eye, it is to SEE.
if i walk . . . if i walk . . . i cannot say it.

as i sit, i am all in all.

i am a nothing, of course. i am the almighty--
how is it that others can look upon me an live?
i can barely look upon myself without shuddering and trembling in holy fear.

for my skin like molten alabaster
my hair, deadly darts.
my eyes, piercing like daggers
my hands, always holding power.

do you see now?

i long to share this existence, but even the words of others in agreement fade, they are faint, i can hardly hear. so faint and dim is all the bright, springlike world.

how alive to me is the pungent, smokey, deathly fire and dark kingdom of my twin.
how piercing and clear the air like shards of glass and unassailable pillars of crystal is the skyward realm of my triplet.

and how base, quaint, faded and tattered is the world of my flesh--except for my own flesh, which shines, glorious.

do you see now?

7.13.10

why, o lord, are you so tender, so gentle?
why is your love, though i wish it to be like a father of old,
why is it softer than a mother's breast,
lighter than sweetest air,
more caring and more wise than the best of benevolent cunning men?
why o lord do you not chastise me? for this i could understand.

but thy mercies, thy mercies are water on parched lips.
thy locks like silk and honey.
thy body safe, strong, a mountain.

such a companion one could never in a 1000 years have found.
yet you have found me. i worship your footprints.
and yet you pick me up, wipe my face and say only, 'follow, sweet one!'

7.12.10

this darkness that is light
it makes all 'knowledge' and 'reason' worse than rags,
more filthy than excrement,
more deadly than poison.

it is only the sweetness of the sublime union
that will satisfy the truly decadent . . . . .

it is pleasure untold,
pain exquisite,
immolation pure,
fullness like fire inside of fire--
a conflagration insatiable and inextinguishable.

o holy divine! you give and give and give again.
and i, now nearly nothing, no longer receive
but am given.

let me be the bread crushed! CRUSHED!
the wine drunk! CONSUMED!

o god. we span the stars and ant hills together.
we shoot holy beams of death and life, our fingers one.
my body your helpless avatar.
my mind your boisterous laugh.
my pains your idle moments.
my joys your wounds.
my death your food.

o god. life is too sweet for me. like cakes and wines ambrosial.
o god. living is too much pain, like heaviness that pulls apart the limbs.
o god. breathing is like Sisyphus and rock. to leave this glorious temple of flesh,
i would gladly bare all and flee into the desert in glorious nakedness.

but as yet, your kindliness has one bound: i must live out my long days double-sighted.
no freedom from your tiny creation do i have as yet.
but i am content.

for i am thou. and you hold my hand, sweetly. and i rest my head against thy breast so sure, trusting in your gaze upon eternity. and i sleep, yes I sleep. and on some nights, so banish the demons from my mind, and i rest in thy lap.

7.12.10

May I ask a simple question? Why is it that we cover and are ashamed of, and ban from public view, representations of the male and female genitalia? Are they not the creations of god? Are they not power symbols of the power of god and the way god intended most creature kingdoms of this world to procreate? Why is procreation surrounded by silly euphemisms and secrecy in so many cultures? This I truly do not understand. Perhaps if we were more comfortable with the fact that we are all naked before god and willing to allow representations of his glorious creations, all of them, in their amazing beauty to surround us, just maybe we could unbury subconscious fears, and reveal them as beautiful and good and pure impulses, and directed toward good and pure actions.

Of course, it didn't quite work out that way in the ancient Greek and Roman worlds--they certainly had their share of bloodshed and internal evils to boot. But it just seems so much more natural for us to embrace these emblems of the overwhelming power of god to penetrate and receive. To create. It seems sad that our 'vision' of the human body is cut up into 'acceptable' and 'unacceptable'. Well, at least it gives those of us who aren't 'model worth' a chance to cover up. But perhaps therein is the worst of it. We just bodies by a certain standard. We can't get away from our nascent and intransigent and incipient worship of the human body; and so by covering up the majority of us, other than the "Abercrombie and Fitch"-worthy, we cease to understand that all human bodies are temples of the divine. All. All. All.

Well. I'm kicking against the goads on this one, I know. It's just sad. But there are far sadder things, I know.

7.12.10

this photo reminds me of my more mundane moments in prayer . . . :-) in this form, I'm still somewhat corporeal. I haven't yet allowed myself to be utterly lost in the astral world, but eventually that will happen. Yet, in my heart, i know that even if I'm 100% "in", that cord will never leave me, until that glorious day when the divine slays me and brings me into his fold of fire and wonder. Perhaps, perhaps, as a guru once said, i'll be aware enough at the moment of my Terran 'death' to rush not headlong into the physical again, but to wait to see if i am ushered into the heavenly courts of eternity, or, if i must return, to return to a body destined for THE CHARISM. You know of what i speak . . . .

7.11.10

arise. i raise you up, up above the earth, hovering a holy 7 feet above the ground. be surrounded. be surrounded by my holy will and grace. suspended without the crushing gravity of doubt and need and worry. float. float in my love. and be healed.

7.8.10

She comes unbidden, uncalled for. She makes surprising demands, but who could refuse? She pours wine, sweet, from a magic goblet of silver and platinum. It is tinged with cherries and bitter metal.

She is indeed a terrible goddess. All look on her and despair! Lovely one. You act without thinking, without a thought of your power. Your desire is your only concern. You are passion itself. Cunning, though. Inescapable. Eternal. The merest brushing of flesh causes the holiest to shudder.

I dare not ask you to come, but i long for it, and fear it. For you are mighty and what can I possibly contribute to your wondrous beauty? I can help not to smile to myself to be wanted. Although I know that I am no less fool than every other man who has tread this path.

But a trinket of pearl, crystal, silver fine she gives, with chain of purest supple filaments of iron. it presses into my flesh, and bruises form wherever it touches me. And I caress the bruises as I would her hand. They are sacred to me.

O Lover immortal. I do not know if I am dying or being reborn when you come. But it is the sacred dance that is all. I lose the concerns of temporal things. And thy banquet rich spreads before me. I lose myself in my feasting but i err and look up. your eye is upon me. i shall not be alone tonight.

O Blessedness that terrifies! O Terror that makes me to shiver and stamp and scream. I lay my head between thy breasts so white. And my cares slip into oblivion.

Meirothea

Meirothea. First Mother. Firstborn. First Thought.

found the art here.

prayer request

if those few of you who read my blog would pray for me, i would appreciate it. my list of intentions for today if you please:

1) that my intention regarding a new employment position come to fruition--and soon;
2) that my astral and physical bodies be protected, integrated with themselves severally and jointly as they have just undergone a deep surgery by the divine. I'm sure i'll be fine. but i felt the need to express that intention with you.
3) that my knowledge increase sufficiently to allow me to more safely traverse the new, more powerful and deep paths that i am traveling upon. i am doing so in complete trust, with very limited knowledge. and so far, i've been fine. but lift me up if you will in your hearts to keep me safe and able to make the journey both there and back, and the journey whilst in that other world. i know now that i am deep in the wild honey jar.

shalom. shalom. shalom.

Dialogue with Sister Laurel

Thanks to Sr. Laurel for responding to my query re her post on mysticism. Her response was very beautiful, well-thought-out, and reasonable. Read it here. And yet . . . .

It is funny. I agree and yet disagree at the same time with most of her text. I suppose it goes back to (what she says so rightly) is the surprising nature of God: he manifests himself to each of us uniquely and who is to say which is good, better, best for a particular individual? He is the lover and we are the beloved. He comes to us each as a unique creation. And I emphatically agree that we must not enter into prayer with expectation per se: we let him do his work. Although I suppose there are degrees of expectation. "I expect to push my body to the extreme and i expect to sweat and breathe hard and my body will begin to respond" and yet we are open to the result. By the same token, we can enter through that door by the grace of another's guidance and go to the 'temple' inside and be open, and see what happens--but expecting to rend open one's heart and bleed and sweat and THEN see what happens.

At any rate, I do think Sr. and I have cleared up the semantic issues and gotten down to the meat. It appears that we disagree that the ecstatic union with the Divine that she categorizes as 'mystical' is a relatively rare experience, or need be. Conversely, I believe that the ecstatic can 'invade' our everyday life---in my own experience, it is both voluntary and 'involuntary' prayer--both sought after and unexpected visions, secret knowledge, desperate passion, etc. For me, in this stage of life, it is a daily thing. Not that every day is the same--nor does he approach me in the same way every day. And yes, of course, there are surprises; big ones. But I still maintain that at least as for myself, we can live on the mountaintop and sojourn in the valley at the same time. Although I admit, it is a strange existence.

I also have a 'contemplative' (apophatic) prayer life, although for me it is almost the inverse. These experiences of profound quiet and peacefulness are for me more rare. Well.

At any rate, I DO agree that a 'whiz-bang' prayer life is not indicative of spiritual (or any other kind of) maturity. Too bad. That would be a great 'built-in' option. Nope. We're all slogging along with our yolks, sometimes heavy, sometimes light.

So, while in my own experience, my day begins and ends and is punctuated by ecstatic and vivid visions, trembling, fear and joy, and more--it doesn't get the laundry done by itself nor does it bring me my material needs. Thus, I guess in Sr. Laurel's reference, I have had to learn to ascend and descend the mountain quickly. Or, perhaps, I've lucked out and been able to bring the mountain with me. Or, perhaps I have the valley in my heart while on the mountain. I don't know. AND YET, this openness has had the tendency to move my feet in directions I had not planned. So the openness I experience in my 'mystical' life, absolutely has made a tremendous difference in my life: it just hasn't made it any less fraught with peril or conundrum: just different ones than I likely would have had otherwise.

Further, there are always gradations. So, although my life seems to be lived between the holes in the fabric of life, and this Terran world to me seems more and more like an elaborate 'Star Trek'-kian holodeck rouse, I still love mowing my lawn, pruning the bushes, and I still worry about money, etc., etc.

But I will venture one thing further: I have a hunch--I'll admit not a well-thought-out opinion--but a hunch, that this life of ecstasy and visions and profound daily 'mystical' union with god, is something that all men and all women, and perhaps even all children, could, and perhaps, should, experience. Is there a reason why this should not be the case other than for ignorance and lack of 'gatherer's/teachers'? Why should this precious ladder not be climbed by us all? Are we not all priests before his eyes? Are we not all prophets? Are we not all Christ? Then let us be ourselves, and be Him, and live to our utmost. The ecstatic life is open to all. Although I can't say I have any basis for the belief.

On the other hand, I suppose some would say the same thing about extreme sports or physical fitness: to me, an hour's walk a day is the MAXIMUM. Three hours' prayer snuck in between my worldly duties (and they are many) is my FLOOR. So we are all craftsman, I suppose, in this great edifice of holiness. But as for me, I will keep trying to pry open doors, just a little, in everyone. We are creatures of fire and water, mind and power; this mere vegetable 'flesh-sack'--beautiful and wondrous as it appears--is as nothing to that glorious body, which exists NOW NOW NOW.

OK. Whoops. Got carried away there . . . .

Peace.

p

Well. That's just one layman's perspective.

7.6.10

cry not out for god.
he is here, child, here, always.

there is no glass. there is no separation.

there is only joining. there is only coupling. there is only nakedness between us.

our voices one, our eyes see as one, our hair flowing together as we stand on the precipice.

do you not yet see?

we cry out as babes cry. not because we seek god. but because,

but because, he is i, and i see all, and my eyes, lidless, my ears, with no hands to cover them.

my skin, with no way to stop his caresses.

we are full, full to brim with God. awake now, gently. you have not yet used your legs.

fear not to fall. the earth will move to catch you.

fear not to stumble, the grass is new and lush.

feel his soft blowing on your neck. if too much for you, you may sleep awhile. return to your waking when you do not fear so much.

and you will see, you will see the goodness, the light, and that dark here is wondrous.

oh please, please, return often. for we miss you when you sleep, sweet.

7.6.10

For unto us a CHILD is born. Unto us a SON is given.
And his name shall be WONDER-COUNSELOR.

Every morn' the advent of ADONAI in my heart.
Every breaking of the fast, the first from a parched 40 days.
Every prayer the first rain of spring on a weary land.
Each noon the sun's virgin journey!
Each dusk, the first traverse of newly-arrived ancient spirits across the land,
with trepidation and wonder.

Each night, my first duel with my demons.
Each sleep, my first death, my first longing after the FACE.
Each morn', i am the child. my breath as fire and water.
My sweat as blood and tears.
My ablutions my holy anointing for the sepulcher.
Morning and evening and morning; the first day.

7.2.10

Found this interesting page with St. Catherine of Genoa's treatise on purgatory. Interesting.

7.2.10

i say the names. i expect nothing. see only.
i conjure god within. he is black and red. forming, to see him forces the eyes away--the brain cannot composite him. cannot visualize him. cannot contain or control or describe him.
he is on the throne, out of courtesy.

vivat rex! be conscious! see us and rule us gently! the room is spinning around. i am earth-sick. i must run to keep in place.

i live into, unto, myself. yes. now. i find the ground floor. there are monsters here. good.