I stand at the center of a vast circular hall. yet, it is intimate. 72 counselors and one more and yet one more stand with me.

i, in the center, stand, unwilling to sit, with the moon and the sun, one in each hand. the sky watching close by, the earth above and below. and i stand, on that inlaid wooden floor of exuisite beauty, signs and sigils and runes of which i know not.

i am in the richest of robes, as are all. the room inviting, fit for an emporer. but it is my will to wait. i must wait before i move. a good king knows when to move, when to wait, when to prepar. for now, i prepare and wait. and every moment is as an age. finally, i relax, i sit. everything that comes out of my body is gold, purest, brightest gold, each drop of sweat of purest gold. and so, without letting go of my tight, sweaty hold on the sun and moon, i conceded to sit, cross-legged, and wait.

my eyes i close, and i ponder. i ponder the impending battle.

the plans are all drawn, all is in place, but we must wait for battle-season.

until then, we toil, we till, we grow, we gather, we destroy enemy outposts in our way, we control the skies, we control the earth. yet, we, everywhere on the field, cannot be seen. and our enemies already begin to fall into our arms. already my agents invade and implode or explode pockets of resistence. but still, this is all just the preparation for the greatness. our rising shall be a rising, such a rising as perhaps never seen. not here.

perhaps i can sleep. but only with the sun and moon on either side. i cannot let their touch cease.

so we lay, on a low pedestal, resting, while my generals make all ready. and my war-robes are made ready. my arrows with spells surrounded. my sword, polished with the dust of stars, my spear, its point one atom in diameter. its shaft, light, strong, pulsing.

my body feels already the power of battle, the joy of it suffuses me.

St. Dymphna

I read this after a heavy burden was dumped on my heart by the Holy Spirit. And they say that G-d is a 'nice guy'. Anything but. He treats his friends quite roughly. But the weak he treats with compassion. Read this. May this day in my own heart be dedicated to the sacred heart of St. Dymphna, patroness of the mentally ill, the victims of incest, of family harmony and of physicians to the mentally ill. Click here. ---note: just found out she has a feast, but not until May 15.

I wanted something to say. But did not feel permitted to say anything of my own. But I found this

Enjoy.

St. Therese of Liseux, Patroness of my formation, came to me yesterday and blessed me and alleviated my sufferings. For today. "Just for today!"

Thank you, Sister. Carry me into the blessed arms of the Virgin as i fall, fall, fall, into the heart of the Jesu. Soon, there will be no difference. No division.

I thank you now for this pain you have given me.

I thank you now for this groaning without ceasing.

For this heaviness in my limbs

For this terror in my face

For my bones melting

For my flesh turned to shards of obsidian and flying off into the stars

For my very being every day more nothing, more nothing.

For now i see, now i understand.

My body flies to you.

My body, the thinnest garment, a gauze, a fine gauze, strong but filmy, frothy.

I become you. And YOU are so many, so many more than I had thought.

My body flies to you O Avenger! O Adamant! O Fehu! O Brother! O Sister!

I made love to a saint today, shyly and blushing, and she only laughed at my childishness.

And the joy on her face uplifted to a world I know now slew me once, thrice and I lay, I stand, dead.

Not dead, but not.

Holes from bullets tortuous shredded my flesh, my nakedness uncovered.

I have bled out.

My face a ghost.

And I have sunk down into the earth, lamented but shortly.

And, and,

And I am created anew. I do not know these arms, these legs. This is not my torso.

This is not my face.

O God! Only the tiniest filament of my former self yet lives. A filament that stretches back into the past to what once was a body. And now.

And now I am this other, this other with whom I am not yet acquainted. And he terrifies me.

His eyes flash like eagles

His arms as steel.

His legs as the pillars of the earth.

His hands hold powers untold

His mind works in mighty ways---I shudder to think his thoughts!

And his raiment. Of Gold and Purple and Red. His staff is mighty. It is death to all others. And it's weight impossible to any but him.

But his lips bless. His countenance a blessing and food to the weary.

His body death to the evil, and life to the weak.

I have passed into a new country. A new world.

A world so much larger, so much grander, so much more real than this paltry shadow.

I cannot tell of its magnificence as I am forced to speak this tongue of dung.

But it I could speak the words of silver and gold, you might not survive it.

Come up. Come in. Yet fear.

I have begun my experiment in praying the Psalms in the Septuagint Greek translation. My tentative goal is to memorize the 150 psalms in that language. It is a very ancient and noble tradition. God help me in this will of OURS.

Otherwise, I am suffering a small amount from the impending ordination to the traditional Deaconate--even though I have been "Rev. Smith" for months now, and experienced a powerful movement of the Spirit during the ordination, the closer the priesthood comes, the more my psyche suffers from the transformation.

Thank goodness I have strong and varied support system.

I prayed. And instantly I was transported to a world to the right of our own. And on my head was a crown.

But the crown cast an immense shadow. And I felt then that it was stone.

And I saw then that it was the underside of a huge stone cathedral.

And I saw then that it was a mightly stone citadel.

And I saw then that it was a very great walled city.

And I was crushed in spirit.

And ELOHIM came to me and said, "Lo! I am holding up this crown of yours and you need not fear and see! you are still standing! Take heart! And fear not and walk as you have been instructed."

And I awoke from my prayer. And I was weak unto death.

George Washington Carver

Hero of the faith. It's early, I know--his official day isn't until January 5--but I wanted to honor George Washington Carver today (came up at breakfast with my kids---"who invented peanut butter?"). A hero of the faith. You should remember him from grammar school--but read the wiki on him. Also a man of faith. Called the "Leonardo" of his time. Helped to destroy the evil thought egregore that one race could be intellectually superior to another. Also helped to restore the depleted land of the South by introducing new crops---and also to better the nutrition of millions. I can't believe that that new artist--what's his name?---hasn't 'written' an icon of him yet. He should. Anyone have his contact info?