Why hast thou, Lord, come to me?

Why hast thou chosen me to sit in thy courts?

Others more noble and deserving wait outside, petition in hand.

But I sit on a cushion at thy right hand, favored.

I shall remain silent in thy presence.

for even as in every moment that the psalms of the great king are in my mouth,

so is the jesu evoked, his presence invited---

unlike before, he rushes to me.

like a storm and a terror he is with me; closer than my skin to my flesh.

he is here, in his wonerful, terrible being.

how can his body be described?

how can this world, this universe of being all held into one body human be put into words?

he is awful in his beauty, eyes like flashing swords, arms like mountains high.

chest as the bones of the earth.

i rush to stay with him, but fear and worship his touch.

how can the g-d be this way?

and there is no escape.

'fear not, my love, for there is no other way . . . . "

Clare of Assisi Parish

I'm so pleased to introduce the newest Gnostic Christian community in the Bay Area (one of only a handful). Clare of Assisi Parish is right now a web-site and the promise of many, many of my friends to get involved in a thriving Gnostic Christian parish. We'll see where we take it!!

http://clareofassisi.webs.com/

Lately, my visions have been coming back to me. So in addition to the wondrous, fullness of ecstatic darkness, visions like those of two years are coming back, but shorter, more focused, more intense, more fleeting. I chose this picture really just because i like it. But, in a way, it captures the divine 'flirtation' with us. S/he hides behind many masks. It is up to us to ask for the dance, and perhaps, be bold, and gently pull the mask aside.

So much enjoying the Divine Office now that I am using the pre-Tritentine midieval version without the 'revisions' (cutting) that took place over time. I can see now why the cuts were made. Reading the Psalms in an adventure, and doesn't present a unified front, so to speak, on who/what God is all about. And that would be a good thing. Reading the Plasms is highly conducive to a Gnostic perspective on Christian or even Jewish spirituality, I think. We are forced to rethink in nearly every verse just what God is to us now--what was "He" then--what is this all about? We can take none of it literally--it is all on the emotive level. The experiential level. There is no doctrine here. It is almost anti-doctrinal in my view. If you wan to read it, you must be open to every emotion--and every emotion all at once. Sometimes I wonder just why they are written they way they are. Almost like an exercise for bringing certain students to a certain place. And, of course, that is the way they have been used these last millenia. But it is a challenge to get in 7 prayer times a day. I haven't managed it yet.

The Canticle of Habakkuk

This was in the the readings for Laudes this a.m. (I use the pre-Tridentine midieval version).

LOVE IT!

Habakkuk, 3:2-19

Lord, I have heard your fame! Lord, I have seen you work! In our times, let it live again! In our times, make it known! But in your anger, be sure you remember how to be merciful!
God comes forth from Theman, the Holy One, from Mount Pharan. His majesty drapes all the heavens; the earth overflows with his glory! His splendor bursts forth like daylight: rays shoot forth from his hands where he conceals his power!
Before him goes the plague; fever travels in his wake. Suddenly he stops short: he makes the earth tremble; he looks about: he makes the nations shudder! Then, the eternal mountains collapse; the age-old hills dissolve along his ancient path.
I've seen the tents of Chusan leveled by terror, the pavilions of Madian paralyzed by fear.
Is it against the rivers, Lord, that your anger blazes forth, or is your fury aimed at the sea, that you ride astride your steeds, that you drive your victory chariots?
You draw your bow; with arrows you fill your quiver!
Into streaming torrents you split the earth; the mountains catch sight of you, and it puts them in a trance; torrential rains break forth, and the deep lets its roar be heard, stretches forth its hands.
The sun and the moon dare not come out; they flee before the brilliance of your arrows, at the flash of your gleaming lance! In a rage you survey the earth, with wrath you overwhelm the nations.
You came forth to save your people, to save your anointed; you have destroyed the house of the wicked, stripping its foundations right down to bare rock.
With your swords you have run through the leaders of the warriors who stormed at us, driving us off with their shouts of glee, as if, in their dens, they were going to devour some poor wretch.
You marched through the sea on your steeds, mid the churning of the deep. I have heard it, and my heart pounds; at the sound of it, my lips quiver. Decay gnaws at my bones, and my legs give way beneath me.
Quietly, I wait for the day of trouble that will come upon the people who assail us.
For the fig tree will never again blossom, nor will there be any fruit to glean from the vines; the olive crop will fail, and the fields will stop giving food; the sheep will disappear from the fold, and the herd will not be found in the stables.
As for me, I will boast about the Lord, I will delight in God my saviour!
The Lord, my Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the doe's, able to rise far above the heights.Glory: Both now: -->
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit: Both now and forever, and unto ages of ages, amen.

I called my Bishop today, ahead of schedule for our weekly meeting. How can it be true that the weight of my ordination as Minister can be such a weight upon me--I haven't even DONE anything yet. I was treated to his friendly laugh. He had been wondering when I would call.

"As all brother who have come this way before . . . ."

Thanks be to G-d that all I need to is let the pain work its way through. There is nothing I need do but suffer. Suffering is easy.

a pedestal of ebony seven inches high.

i sit on a cushion of ermine black.

my shift, cassock and surplice like midnight.

my chador, my turban caps, my veil, darker than night.

i am secure on my throne; a celestial body immovable.

to my left and to my right, silent, transparent orbs immense, enclosing super-worlds obscured.

i mediate. my body the conduit. 50 to the 100 to the 100 gigawatts flow through me

like unruffled air.

when i awake from my trance, i spin, i vomit, i wish to die.

only Myself to comfort me.

Today is the day. I'll be ordained as a Minister in the UCA. "Minister" for us is slightly more than Deacon, slightly less than priest (meaning I have all powers other than absolution and eucharist). I am so excited. It is a solemn day, a joyous day, a day that will be celebrated by myself and my Bishop alone. My friends do know, but this will very much be a private event. I feel in some ways sad because of this, in some ways relieved, in some ways pleased. It is a holy thing and almost I feel it SHOULDN'T be seen by anyone.

Well. Now a new life opens up for me. Of course, the LIFE is one that is lived regardless of vocation, etc.; I know that. But still, for me, it is a fulfillment of my personal identity, an event of such great existential import. I don't mean to be 'collecting' titles or 'states' or 'statuses', but still it is a vocation that is important for me and life-long. I have been soldier, lawyer, now Minister, and eventually priest. I feel very complete, but of course, not 'safe'.

As I shared with my Bishop, who agreed with me, the life of Holy Orders does not bring 'greater salvation', a 'better shot at eternity' or some sort of 'spiritual safety zone'. Quite the reverse, rather. I am far more vulnerable now than ever in my life--both from the vocation itself, from my own internal struggles, and from without. Thanks be to G-d that I have two spiritual directors, and perhaps a third, that are helping to keep me on track.

My only wish is that my family truly understood what this means to me, or could feel joy for me. I feel a little cheated: were I taking orders in a church with a greater official member roster, perhaps i would get more encouragement; at least people would be able to understand what the heck i am doing. As it is, few truly approve and fewer understand what I am doing. The scripture comes to mind: "The Sone of Man has nowhere to lay his head." Ain't it the truth. At least I can give thanks that I live in a land and a time where I am free from overt persecution. And I do know that I am, in reality, joining the ranks of all the priests of all time and of all over the world. So I am in good company, and a host of forefathers and foremothers stand with me.

My blessings to all on this day, and all your prayers are humbly solicited.

p

El Shaddai, the Almighty: (Shad) nourisher/many-breasted one, and destroyer (Shadad).

May blessing fall from me like the very holy breasts of G-d, full of the milk of love, blessing, power and fecundity. And, like the mighty Athena, her breasts bared, may I also be the destroyer of evil, of ignorance, of the enemies of light.

May the holy light that suffuses me shine forth like a mighty beacon: yea! those who will be saved shall be saved and made whole. yea! those who are destined for destruction, may it be swift like the blessing of a quick and clean death by the golden sword of the Holy One of the two mountains.

For my fingers are the very rays of the Sun. My arms raised are the pillars of the earth. My mind the sum of all galaxies. There are giants in the land. Lo! Giants! And I am the giant-slayer. I am the mother/nourisher/vessel. I am the fecundating power of G-d. There are no barriers before me. Gorges I cross not--no! I command them to meet and I walk across in a single step! Mountains crumble into the sea. Valleys are raised up. Oceans cover the damned. Springs, sweet, everlasting, nourish the fields of the righteous.

I am Leviathan. I am the Light-Bearer, I am the beast of the Holy Woods. Come! Seek knowledge and life, and ye shall die, but Lo! Live! But anew, the old life like after-birth--eat and be nourished. And let blessings rains down from you. It is so easy! Like releasing the loins after a sleep of 7 days. Like a cloud to bursting pricked by the holy finger of G-d.

May torrents fall, may waters rise! Rise! I dare not look upon my self. Nay! I neither touch my face or any part of myself for my holiness is for all, but not for myself.

I have become a gravity well; a depression in space-time. Those who are destined to shall fall into my orbit and be made whole. Once they realize their own g-dhead, they shall spin gently out, to become galaxies of their own. May the blessing of all good creatures, of heaven, sky, water, earth and fire, descend and remain on all of us for all time; the one time; now; the eternal YES; the eteral NOW; the eternal CRY.

For I cannot die. I cannot die for I have already died so many times I have lost count. There is only the thinnest of tissue paper wrapping the G-d/life/power/blessing. And even it has tears through which you can see the Shekina.

Fear not! Put your finger in my side, my hands, my feet. You shall be destroyed/healed. You shall be slain/suckled. Do you still not see! Are your eyes so loathe to open? Behold! I stand at the door and knock!

Behold! Do you not see that this door exists only in your imagination!? Do you not see that already I have burned away your house and all possessions?! You stand naked before me! The waters are rising, will you take my hand?! The earth is falling into the pit--will you not sit on my shoulders?!

All the heavens await your return---will you tarry in your own filth!? Be clean I say! I shall wipe you clean as an infant. Your skin, scarred, mutilated, dry as ash, wrinkled and thick and callused as an elephant's ass--you shall be made into the fragrant, chubby, irresistible flesh of a babe. Cleaned. Fed. Giggling. See you now?! All life is laughter! All pain is illusion!?

Be ye born! Be ye raised up! Shine as the stars! As the sun! May your own breasts bloom. And may you feed a mighty nation!

And let your sword, forever sharp, forever clean, forever perfect, forever bared, slay one thousand at your left and ten thousand at your right.

For we are all warrior men/women. We suckle a babe in one arm, and hold a sword aloft in another, and the reins of the chariot we need not for the horses obey our very thoughts. Our chariots, golden, fire, alabaster, holy fire, shall ride over the bones of our enemies. The righteous, the righteous, once in rags, once bone-thin, shall be stuffed, shall rest on pillows of down, shall live in palaces of light and marble.

O G-d!!!!!!!!!! All things are! All things are not! May even the bottom of my toes be holy. May my body be converted into your eternal light--each inch! perfection! Melt away the fat--the fat of my gluttony, of body and mind and spirit. Let there remain a perfect warrior.

Aleph. Lam. Mim. Sod.

For the first time I am allowing my impatience about holy orders to come to the surface. I'm just about at the point of being ordained 'minister' in my church (less than priest, more than deacon). And right I don't have any silly self-doubt about either ordination or my powerful yearning for the ordination. Every day without it feels like non-virtue; although it is out of my power.

I know, I know, I have the rest of my life to live in that state. And I know, I know, it won't 'change' anything; but of course, it changes everything.

Prayers appreciated during this last 5% of the waiting journey. Making my cranky if nothing else.

may the waters rise, rise, lap at the edges of the earth. when swell, swell, and begin to wander down the streets of the capitals of the world. water, healing water, sweet water. water of strength. and then, as the masses become unglued, become angels in disguise, the waters rise, rise, until all the earth, the fields and mountains and the highest peaks of earth and men are covered. all sin and sadness and unwholeness cured, washed away by the loving tides of the immortal god. and we shall live, we shall live in this wondrous, clear water, sharper than air, a blanket made by the mother for her child on a cold winter's night. and none shall sense it, but perhaps the worthy shall know that all has changed, irrevocably, forever. a world now breathing the waters of heaven.

read only if you are ready, please.

i sat at my computer. 5:00 a.m., time for work. And I knew that after one hour, after one hour of work, I am permitted to pray. But not on my knees. That is not permitted right now. But I am permitted to speak. To write. And so I commanded myself to be open to the highest will. And this is the word I received:

i am the mind.

the world spinning on its axis, counter clockwise from my perspective.

i am a pillar of gold, of fire, of steel, of titanium, i am the eternal phallus. i am THE MAN atop the ice atop the creature. i am that which you saw, ezekiel. that is the secret. hear me!

i am terrible fire. i place cinders on the mouths of the seekers. if they die, they were not worthy. if they die, they understood.

if they rise again to me, they are worthy and i shall teach them. i am high priest. i am he. fall down like dead men all ye who enter my gates!

and then i shall come to you, give you tea. we shall sit under the shade of the tree together. slaughter your fattened calf and i will eat your food, your food, though choice, is as ash to me, as I eat only the fire of my own breathe. but i shall love you.

and if you are open, we shall lie together under the olive tree and you shall come alive. and you shall be as a maid, blushing, as a boy, throbbing with life, as a babe, satisfied. you shall be as an old man, after the tears are gone, strong as iron.

i am the fire that consumes not, but creates conflagration. i am the fire that heals. i am the fire that turns snow into butterflies. i am the fire that turns stone into lush fruit. i am the fire that consumes the earth and circles the mind.

i am the fire of ages. the light before light was created. # # # # # # # # # # # #
see. i stamp myself on your forehead. i scar my image onto your back. i am the lover on your arm.

shall we not counsel together? shall we not live together? shall we not become lovers? shall we not sigh at the slightest touch of fingers? Live! i say! Live! And raise out of your dung heap.

I shall cleanse you with my cleansing fire. I shall make you clean. Cleaner than from the womb. I shall enter your body, and do as I will. you shall not be a new creation---newer. you shall be a unique creation. for it is the destiny of man to become man, and then, and then! to become MAN! and then! to become ONE. UNIQUE. A new species, yea! a new genus a new kingdom of creature! You shall be immortal like unto the holy ones! you shall be thy own fire and water and blood. Take and eat from me! Take my body! Take my blood! Be Saved!

Even now the waters are flowing, the waters rising under your feet--come into me; i shall be the ark. i shall be the ship that keeps you above the rising tide of fools and evil-doers. there. i have taken you.

and behond that. i shall make you a tower, a tower alongside the temple of myself and that way you are the entrance and you are the mason that enters.

Shall you then see! Shall you then taste! You must become a temple. You must become he-who-rides-on-chariot. Arise! Dammit! Arise! The four horsemen come! You soul hangs in the balance!

See! I scream! I sigh! I blow as a gentle breeze! I am calling you. Come out! Come out! Flee your cave and cower. Yes. that is the first step. And then you shall begin to shed your stupidity, your shallowness, your child-like body. You shall begin to grow the pubic hair of holiness. your testicles shall begin to grow and descend. You shall become a MAN. You shall grow a bear of hoary wildness and power.

See thee not behind my curtain?! Look! Put your hands into my side! Ah!

today is saturday. to tear myself away from the blessed confusion, frustration and pointlessness of my meditations and my spiritual work was doubly difficult today.

the unification of all the disparate selves of my soul, even of the smallest demonesque children of my basest consciousness, has turned sitting still into just 'sitting still.'

i can inhabit the eyes of my servants if i wish, but i am one, and even 'communion with myself' is no longer true. just being. just being. just being is a terrible burden. yet not a burden, a place. a place that is comforting, a place that is barren a place of pain and of milk and honey. but mostly barrenness and pain. now i see, perhaps, why creation is necessary-----creation is the therapy of the soul. but at the pinnacle of ourselves, we are unnoved and unmoving. it is only through the medium of our lesser states of being that we can become agents of creation, change, growth. having reached the room of rooms, keys of keys, casket of caskets pearl and gold, i lose myself in that place. that place of nothing/everything. and then to open my eyes is like pulling off my flesh. o god. how terrible and daunting it is to live in the flesh! yet i submit to my will and i live. not my will, but mine . . . .

prayer now is more like rest. a rest from the constant rushing to keep up with the spinning planet. now that i am free of the matrix, to interact inside it, i must fly at thousands of miles per hour to stay in sync with it, and this is so tiring. so tiring. so tiring. yet the terrible eternal all-powerful sun of suns inside my body makes me grow stronger yet each moment--the pain and pointlessness of my growing power is also yet pain and despair. in pain did the god become man and in pain did he live and in pain did he leave to reunite.

all is pain. beginning to end. in between. it is all suffering. it is all longing for death, longing for life. longing for solitude, longing for comany. it is longing for intimacy, longing for freedom. even longing not to long is suffering. there is no escape. and so, there is no choice but to fight. thus i have brought my swords, my steeds, my armies.

and now to fight again, and better. and blood shall slick and stain the streets. and the powers shall fall. what else could he mean: the valleys be exalted and the mountains laid low? we are in a cataclysm of instantaneous and frightening speed. but being smaller than parasites on fleas, we see it all in 1/10,000th time. we are all fools. all fools. for it is all already over. we are a resonance, a faint after image of all that was. and is no longer. do as you will. all is vanity.

8.19.10

when i am only in my mind, at work mostly, then i feel weightless, air, a subtle power too demur to be called power.

when i am in my spirit, or when i at least no longer am exercising my mind, i feel heavy, enormous, my legs like trunks of stone, my body cumbersome and too tall. my hands small, but of steel and copper. My balance unsteady. I am living in another world. Well, that's not accurate. I sense I am living in two other worlds, maybe three, but the third other world is barely conscious. and all creation spins, but i remain still. if i am called from my reverie by myself or the needs of my blessed wards, then i quickly leap forward into myself, into this terran place of illusion, but beautiful, and the pain and longing for those other places i can become adjusted to and hardly need shed a tear. but the joy at returning, returning, is the more sweet, the more enticing, the more soft and downy. but now i am allowed so precious few minutes to live there. i need this blessing less.

i was trained to live on sweeter meats, choicer wines, and now i must become lean and taut and sinewy in the spiritual life. for the initiations are over. the long road, the long, long road of an unending life of perils petty and great, lays before me. indeed, i have already taken the first tentative steps. i shall be the rod of power, the boulder of shelter, he who is trust, over-relied upon. i shall be taken for granted and reviled, and yet loved by the simple. the crafty shall despise me.