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.

Wild Kabbalah

I proclaim a year of jubilee. All in my nations shall rejoice and be glad; put on your festive robes, your finest.

Come out into the streets, stream into my citadel, and I shall hand out rings and honors.

For I have been in the hell of hells, I have soared through the heavens above heavens, I have walked the paths of nothingness in the middle-world.

For I have seen the divine mother come down to me as a great coverlet and command my performance. I have kissed the spirits of fire and caressed the gods, sweet and yielding.

For I have been father and mother, concubine and keeper of the keys of the harem. Wands, scepters and jewels, caskets of pure honey and wild red gold overflow in my basilica.


Be ye born! O world, be ye aquiver! May the stars come into Our orbit. May our grace and our love be felt to the outermost regions of our great galaxy. As all willing stars and world and spirits circle me in holy dance, may they rejoice! For I am a giver of joy and a giver of peace.




And protection I offer to all who will treat with me as servant or equal. I hold a sword, red, red from fire within, and I have removed the hands of the power of this earth and replaced them with my one. I have occupied the citadel of the great matrix of this Terran vegetable fable and hold it for tribute


FOR THERE IS NO TRYING, NO ASPIRING, NO GROANING AFTER THE GOD--SEE! THE SPIRIT IS POURED OUT ON ALL, THE JUST AND THE UNJUST, LIKE PUREST, RARIFIED GOLDEN WINE UPON ALL SOULS. THE ENTIRE EARTH IS COVERED, IS COVERED IN THE GOLD AND WINE OF THE DIVINE. STRIVE NOT! RECEIVE ONLY! AS A CHILD RECEIVES CARESSES, SO WE RECEIVE GOD. HE IS NOT FAR. NO! HE IS CLOSER THAN YOUR BREATH. DO NOT PRAY. BE. BE. BE. SIT AND DRINK. SITE AND EAT. BE FULL!!!!!

Rejoice! And rejoice! And sing songs of exultation! You shall live. I shall hold you as my precious children, my precious brothers, my precious lovers, my precious vassals and allies---and all shall overflow with gold imperishable, silver of perfection, jewels as bright as suns. Robes and rings I give. Come!


My table is full to groaning and seats 10,000 times 10,000 times 10,000. Come! Yea I command you! I entreat you! Come!

Family support

Another mundane post. Just don't have the poetry in me at the moment, and I'm trying not to allow myself the space or time to linger--just the one hour for prayer and then to work! Although this morning I slept in until 5:30; I had to discipline myself for that one.

At any rate, I was going to say that I am so grateful that my IMMEDIATE family (meaning, my folks and siblings, well, one of them) are supportive of my vocation (although they don't understand it at all). But my extended family refuses to discuss it---it simply cannot exist in their minds. This whole 'gnostic' thing sounds like devil worship to them. Literally. It's not worth explaining; they just change the subject. It feels like an Amish shunning--except that at least we can talk about mundane things: just nothing that is close to my heart. And of course I'm lucky that my wife is supportive.

I'm waiting for the right moment to tell my kids that i'm a seminarian--that will be tough--we as a family are still good little practicing Catholics; daddy becoming a priest in another church (still catholic, though!), might be confusing. I think I'll wait until the deaconate to tell them . . . .

The "eye" is giving me shivers. Time to go to the library and do my seminary reading. Ciao!