and i fell into the soil.

i found a place of green and black.
i closed my eyesand raised my arms in blessing.
then brother earth let me sink, slowly into his loving arms.

from my fingertips came my children. those of black wings, faced of onyx, bodies of adamant. cloaks of smoke and iron.

around me they flew, a cylinder black and tall.

i opened a chasm as the foundation of an edifice great,

a temple eternal.

and men from nations of unknown lands came, and many brought gifts, and i grew rich. and i grew powerful.
and the kings of the nearby lands opened their gates to me and paid me tribute.
and many crowns i collected.

i melted them all down in my cauldron. runes of power beyond the worlds i wrote.
and from these i fashioned a circlet, light in appearance, delicate. But its weight is of many bars of purest gold.

Mass was difficult today. Again, still, the feeling of lethargy. I actually sat and meditated after the gospel and after Eucharist. but no matter how long i sat, nothing changed. there was no refuge in my holy chapel. only grace. if it could, i would sleep under my altar, as did the adherents to the cult of Apollo---falling into that sleep of death that brought enlightenment. For now, for me, I am given no more light. I am simply walking in the dark, surrounded by browns and dusk. Yet, I believe I am on the path. One down-side is that my will is weakened. I am 'self-medicating' with food, to my detriment. And, so, of course, this must be remedied. If only there were a healer to tend to me.

received my new California Driver's License. I was shocked at how old I look. I swear in the mirror I look 15 years younger.

at any rate, the feast of St. Luke the Evangelist. I felt the readings didn't really do him justice, nor the prayers. It seems to me that the Apostles ought to have their own, special, votive masses, one for all 13 of them (ok, 15, if you add Mary and Mary). Maybe the Tridentine system had them, I don't know.

I look forward to the day I can begin my learning ofmy own faith, of which I am a minister!, more completely. In the interim, there is work, family, work, liturgy, work.

I have been called a mystic. But that comes from a generosity of spirit of which I am not worthy. Perhaps more accurately: "Bastard with mystical tendencies".

I do know that in my own experience, I have begun to see the entire world, including myself, my visions, my family, my work, my little bubble of circumstances, through a new lens. What is that lens? Hard to describe.

But it does make me feel very much as though I am living on this earth, in a way, analogous to that C.S. Lewis called "Oyarsa"--these beings EXISTED--unaffected by the physical world. To stand 'stationary' on a planet, for example, they would appear as though they were flying at immense speed. Because, in reality, they were. For they were not affected by the rotation of any world. And so to exist among the average mortal, it was necessary for them to fly at the speed of the planet's rotation to appear stationary to those affected by that world's gravity.

This is somewhat how I feel. NOT in ANY way that I am a better person: anyone who knows me well knows that is SO not true.

But I have, in some way, 'opted out' of life. It is hard, as I said, to describe. I would like to think that my choices are more and more in line with the Gospel of Christ and with treating each person as I would Him.

At that same time, I know that this world is passing away, now, it is in a state of passing away NOW. And so, one instructs one's body to act with compassion. And one's eyes and ears and mind are all enmeshed with the super-Mind of Christ. The world, all physical reality, however beautiful, are dim, SO dim, in comparison with the terrible, sharp, ultra-bright reality of the other worlds. The plane of what we call the 'spiritual'. But I hate that word in English: it connotes 'ghostliness' and impermanence. I tell you (times 3!) (in Arabic: "Fa amma ana, fa akulu lakum") that what we call the spiritual is MORE REAL, MORE permanent, MORE "physical" than the physical.

Awake! That which is YOU is too amazing to be defined by your physical body, although that is a legitimate and important part of what is you in toto. But YOU are infinitely more than your body, even than your mind. But to begin to experience life in this way, it takes something. For some, an Eastern-type "enlightenment". For others, some sort of praxis. But if you have the calling, you will eventually fall into the river of the mystical life. And you will drown, and be truly baptized into a new world.

Darn! It all sounds so 'foofy' and silly. But it isn't, I assure you. It is in dead earnest.

I confess I indulged in a "facebook rant" tonight. Stupid of me. But, I re-read my post, and I'm not willing to delete it. So, perhaps I'm doubly sinning. It is so hard not to get upset about things one cares about. I still haven't grasped, I suppose, what the Bishop talks about 'meaninglessness.' I still take this worldy fantasy very seriously--even if I do know what we are put a page in a very large book.

Blech. I feel tired, strange, out of sorts. I shouldn't communicate at all in such a state.

SOLEMN VOWS

I've never written here about my solemn vows as a Companion of St. Dionysius the Martyr. Of course, most, if not nearly all of our Roman brethren would not acknowledge my monastic vocation because I am also in the married state. I've stopped trying.

What is important is my experience of this vocation. I have to say that it is a wonderful, wonderful feeling. It is like having a huge, comfy old blanket wrapped around me 24/7. Actually, in fact, it is odd, but i no longer even need coverings when I sleep. I literally feel warm all the time. But that isn't the important part.

What is important is the consecration of one's entire SELF to Christ. And THAT is the essence of the charism. Being married is no more an impediment to that entire consecration as having a particular role in a monastery (keeper of the keys or washer of the toilers, etc.). Any activity or interaction with any other person could be considered an 'obstacle' to a monastic vocation--in fact, the hermits say just that! No, I am a MONASTIC, which means that I say the prayers of the church, i LIVE them, I am involved in the Divine Liturgy as often as possible, and I live my vows of poverty, chastity and obedience to the best of my ability according to my state of life. And when you really get down to brass tacks: the outer circumstances of one's life have NOTHING to do with whether or not your SELF is being actively consecrated to God. Because even BREATHING could be an impediment. This is what Christ was talking about with entering heaven with only one hand.

The point is not to leave anything behind in the flesh. The point is to leave it behind in one's BODY, one's MIND, one's HEART. In this poverty, I own EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD and NOTHING, both, simultaneously. And so, in this way, whether the world calls something 'mine' or 'not mine' is irrelevant. I acquire or discard material things in accordance with the needs of those to whom I have obligations, just as I would behind the cloister walls.

So! I say--erect the walls of the cloister of your heart! Bar the doors! YOU are the body, YOU are the tabernacle, YOU are the heart and monk and hermit of God. Live this INTERIOR life, and the exterior things become only a means for the body to give worship to God.

So, disparage not my vocation! Look instead to yourself. Are you a 'layman' in spirit? Or do you take up the challenge of the Christ: 'you are all priests'. Become the holy magician that unites the mundane with the sacred. In every moment. That is what we do.

End of sermon ;-)

On o'er hills verdant

to mountains mighty

snowbound and weighty

paths few.

There I am walking.

Slowly.

Some days I am a youth and in my prime and i walk boldly.

other days, i feel even stronger, but the spell of Him who calls me lays upon me like a cloak of lead and gold.

I can stand, erect, my feet moving.

but my progress is imperceptible.

it is on these days that to be called "priest" is no small thing.

It is on these days that I know I am worthy of my blacks.

Worthy only because I have been called and anointed. Worthy only because my flesh has been turned into His flesh.

Worthy because I died long ago. My ghosts banished to a crypt beautiful, low and treacherous, wards upon them I put.

My staff, strong, I lean upon, its ebony sheen I glory in.

It's crookedness and knots I caress.

I am alone.

My only company--the knowledge that there are others making this trek--on the other side of the mountains. Then we shall meet, one day, upon the summit. and there, together, in a circle of fire and stone and death, we shall dance.

And the stars shall fall. And the gods shall rise up. And the waters shall be divided and reformed. And the meadows shall sprout fruit of lastingness.

And finally I shall no longer be even the after-image of "I", but completely the Other.

If my life is a ship on the sea, then I am sailing with a steady, moderate breeze in a northerly direction. No doldrums, no storms, no glassy see; tiny whitecaps. A time for walks on the promenade, for reading in my cabin. All proceeds with casual precision. The crew attentive, one level of attentiveness above boredom.

More photos of the Oratory of Christ Avenger.

I had a slight emergency with my precious oratory this week. This structure, which has been water-tight for 11 years--I mean narry a drop!, leaked ALOT during our first rain of the reason (?Sunday?). Fortunately, I had the urge to go celebrate Mass late in the afternoon (which is out of my usual practice) and discovered the leak before anything was damaged. My linens were all soaked, although unharmed. My Sacramentary suffered slight damage in the back (children's masses--won't be using that before Advent!) and my wonderful altar crucifix was a little wet at the bottom. All in all, after everything dried out, the only damage (that I've noticed) is a slight discoloration on the base of my altar crucifix---and I usually cover that with a cloth anyway.

My hurried swathing of the structure's roof in tarps did the trick: dry as a bone after our second rain, last night. I'm ready to 'set up shop' again! Thank goodness! My oratory being 'taken apart' for those few days actually caused me significant pain. This is what you get being a mystic---it ain't all peaches and cream! You get the grace of extreme strength and endurance in most ways, but then you get these funky little achilles' heels in others.

Ah well---looking forward to getting my quote of work done for the day so I can go back and set up shop. I'll re-dedicate the space just for good measure.

My new oratory.