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.

i'm not sure if i even have a spiritual life anymore. when i sit down, usually i feel elevated, lifted up, serene, powerful. and i am communing with myself. there is little reason to stay there long, as i am want to do as i long to do. but my will keeps kicking me up and out of my holy place. it kicks me out of that part of my mind. if i resist, it just puts me into sleep or half-waking.

this is a time for action. i would enjoy reading prayers, but then, again, why? my every touch and every act is an act of communion with myself and blessing to others. do more. do more is my mantra right now. i want to stay mary at the feet of the LORD, but i have been sent back to the kitchen.

to that end . . . . .

Hurray!

Long time. No post. I've been preoccupied by the mystery of my new, wonderful, wonderful job. LOVE IT. And love my boss--of course, not everyone would think so. But for someone warped in the particularly wonderful, strange and inscrutable manner that I am, it is perfect.

Also, on the spiritual level (can't we think of a BETTER word than that? sheesh!--SOOOO overused and almost meaningless to me now). Anyway, on the OTHER level, I have been focusing on just BEING BLESSING. It is pretty amazing and wonderful. I feel like a global thermo-nuclear war of blessing all over the planet. Every once in a while, I feel resistance; but then I love the resistence, get under its skirts, and dissolve it from within. It is wild.

To all those to read this blog: blessings! May your troubles atrophy, may your strength grow, may your mind become all in all.

Back to work . . . . . . . . . .

As a weird side note: as I was searching for an image to accompany this post, I found the above amazing one: which, by the way is exactly, exactly the way i imagine my blessings going out: a huge white cloud in all directions, and the power of my will/love going down into, coming out from, the earth and the everlasting fires within. I wish I had another hour to meditate right now, but must go worship G-d in mundane ways for the next 14 hours.

8.3.10

and i said to myself 'i am one, i am no longer many.'
and at once i was taken down into the crypt of ages, that crypt which is so beloved to me--so many journeys have begun there.

and out i came, and lo! my wings spread wide and glorious and my beak opened in a call of deathly screeching and power. the sun reflected harsh and bright from my scales of purple royal. my two legs flexed in joy in their thinnest golden ringlets and talons; they grip as vices, pierce like razors, shred as sabers bright.

and then i was one. yet again 'myself'.

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.”