THE STILL HEART

SO WHERE DID YOU GO NOW?

2010-06-17T22:34:00.000-07:00

Tonight as I swam upon my back, alone, and the
Lights from all side struck my living body ...

The moon so milky
I thought, maybe, that is where you went now.

For I learned that you are gone
Oh, so hard I took it.

I beat that Night against
this moon; to willow the streams

of light seeing did you
go there now.

Down into the water of the reflected
crescent fickle moon

I asked up if you became happy; if you became well;
or if all we believed of Love is a wisp of a night's moon-glow.

TRAVELING DOWN SOUTH

2010-04-27T03:16:00.000-07:00

In the Swells of low mountains and hills, I pass by as a witness of timelessness,
through an Earthly watch of some snaking human movement.

So swiftly, I travelled down and further down. And,
the Light was not to give way easily; but, fought the Night so
bravely and with such stubborn solidity.

And, the argument seemed clear:

Doubt
yet
Faith

I watched the battle and it seemed
original and new and once again.

So, too
with such Crimson colorings came for me,

and

I was bathed in that moment,
the moment of War
of one Sovereignty over the next,

with
clarity and comprehension.

That, Light carries its emptiness
and burdening of the Dark.

That, Dark is forerunner and attests
to the Light.

And, that doubt and faith are

all
our
own
Nightfalls

COAL VINES

2010-04-27T03:13:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I drove through such inky darkness all around.

I knew the vines lay there;
but, if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t.

And, it was this way for miles and miles,

and,

I learned then
that, perfect knowledge

is trust
and faith

in things which sit covered and unseen.

SALT DOLL

2010-04-27T03:10:00.000-07:00

S A L T D O L L

The ocean I stand in laps up against me and I am not made to last.

Granular, by grain, I become part of the start of me,
my creation,
my entering in to begin with.

I peer at this wide- open- place, and look at the evaporations and thawing of the many multitudes before me.

And, I recognize things now that I hadn’t before.

Looking backward I see my inception and how the ocean seemed so much smaller and less deep and darkly inviting.

Then, I stood at the Edges,
before the Shore,
and was crusted and became an incrustation of a larger being-ness.

It was solid and real and necessary.

But, that was waters and waters past, and the brininess is now
reaching my toes and ankles and knees and ever upward
and the sensations are

simple,
known,
and rehearsed.

I am dissolving too into the Sacredness of all our destinies and my
saltiness is emptying out through to the oceans of Great time and
Givenness,

where lay mingling and remembrances and murmurings
of a pure whitened
Joy.

CONTAINER

2010-04-27T03:07:00.000-07:00

~What is contained within us, I wonder?

~Birth, life... that is what is contained. So, our endings are held in these our vessels of grantedness.

~In the original seed is the fallen shades of winter; and, in the blooms of light, there too, are the shadows of nightfall and demise.

~Casts of living are sacred and the mercies of God give us at our inceptive pools, life and death at the very same time and in the very same place. When we are conceived, the rose seems already to be snipped and placed in an earthen urn, to wither and drop its pedals in due time. As infants, the elder lay within us, too. The cradle and coffin, the east of sunrise and west of sunset occur at once, simultaneously, most directly, in the Now.

~In our box of humanness, we cannot witness this for the truth that it is; that the seas’ breakers have long since crashed upon the Shores and the tastiness of salt in the air has already since been savored and swallowed.

~But, for grace, we live. But for the mystical election of God, do we travel and still live as a People, standing in deserts of not our own devisings.

~How simply we can be snuffed as pieces of short enjoyment or embittered sorrows; and how great is our creation, our Creator, and journeys toward our individual changings, toward our given freedoms. To assume the sweep of night mists will be among us; to assume the white moon will past through her phases and wanes; to assume that we shall breathe as we rise, is in the direct, divine hands of happenstance and Hope.

~No, the fragility in which all move is likened to the delicacy of neonatal drifts in crystalized snow that bear reddened beats of sun’s rays. For, I am delicately poised in a wood, in a pasture, in a meadow, in a briny ocean pond, upon a great undulant hill; looking out and knowing that I, too, am a relic, a fossil, something already shed, already molted, yet surviving still in grace and gratefulness.

~And although passed as mistings of my own simplicity, I live; and today my eyes close in thanksgiving with my palms raised to all there is; and to all that occurred; and to all that ever shall be.

THE BLUE AND THE BLACK SKY

2010-04-07T20:45:00.000-07:00

Up, in the blue and the black sky, I spend much time in thought and thinking,
trying to make sense of how is it that each of us, throughout time, within our histories, over the course of our lives and living,
Dwell
under this blue and black sky together; yet, hurt each other so often knowing, unknowing...senselessly, poignantly, for always.

So after looking up and squinting all day at this blue and black sky, I go to the bench.

The Schubert f-minor, plaintive and calling, places my questions to the blue and the black sky into staccatos and sixteenths.
Pages of asking and thought and wondering and why, moving in time and sequence, my hands begin to give way and beg stop.

Tired questions hang upon my fingernails as I enter my bedroom and see my cat, deep in his slumber upon a fattened furred face.

And,

I fall silently down next to him.
In the deep of featherbed, in the undulance of his tiny body with the exhaustion of my own, I lay down and look up.

And, I noticed that he lays in curves and his breathing moves in curves,
then, I, too,
felt the curves within me, circling and encircling as the shimmerings of the blue and black sky beheld the both of us,
down under, into the empty still question.

His honesty began to envelope me, and I started to float in a kind of blankness wherein he was teaching me and showing me...
Immediately, it seemed
the questions to the blue and the black sky, which plague and harass me most constantly, began to wane a bit.

And, too,

that depth of the f-minor entered me now, returning questions to the blue and the black sky with the White of pulsations,

in the unassuming fellowship of my sleeping muted cat, who knew this song long before it began in the very first place.

And,

I learned then that it is gossamery Peace, and purity’s Acceptance, into the very way of all living things.

Simply,
a suspended acknowledgement,

inside the curves,
inside the notes,
inside the questions,

to the blue and the black sky.

TITLES AND ENTITLEMENTS

2010-02-12T22:47:00.000-08:00

What is it, I wonder, about honorifics?

Father this?

Mother that?

Brother such and such?

Sister so on?

Bishop and Reverend Father/Mother?

Why?

This is self-revealing. In certain ways, it is driven by ego and a lack of esteem for self.

The titles offer personal sanctuary and spiritual elevation where, perhaps, that risen state

is not appropriate. The title lifts where the person may hide. I say this for I feel that I do this and it is become a revelation to me.

In my day, I meet people. 'Sister, they nod' ... That is a feel good and personal/emotional massage. People show their respect for the Life of a Religious and that is all well and good; however, if I thrive on the attention, live for the recognition, need that noticing: something is very amiss, indeed.

In my heart lies a Hermit. In my heart lives a Hidden life for Christ. Wearing a Habit on the outside of my enclosure where others peer into my privacy and perhaps wonder of the life being publicly displayed, prayer is being said and pondered about that.

A monastic Habit worn outside the Hermitage is a signpost of a life lived for something larger and more potent than myself. That I do believe. How I wish to state that another way exists in this land of profound materialism and 'give-everything-to-me-now-especially-if-it-new' mindset and culture.

What need be kept in the forefront of my mind and heart is that the black monastic Habit does not become something of vanity, pride, and self-absorption. Indeed, that the black monastic Habit state both to myself and to all that this person has died to the World and lives NOW in Christ Jesus, through Mary, ever-Virgin.

Oh, may this be so.

WHERE ARE WE NOW?

2010-02-08T21:56:00.000-08:00

Alas, the Computer Age has stolen from us Humanity. Humanity, the gift of God from throughout the ages. Humanity, from which sings the angels in Paradise. Humanity, which God entered to become One with us! Where are we going, people?

It started small at my Parish, the Healing Service at the Mary Chapel. I would stand in full Habit, with an Acolyte holding the Chrism. We would wait for anyone to come for anointing and prayer. At first, it was a trickle. But, each one who came were embraced and held and kissed with the Kiss of Christ, anointed and bid the Love of God. In short, each single person was touched and loved humanly, as Jesus did and desire us to do.

Each Sunday the line toward the Mary Chapel grew.

This past Sunday it began at the High Altar and snaked all the way to the Narthex and front doors. The anointing continued until the last Congregant wandered out. It was for me the largest crowd ever.

Why? Why do you think it is happening?

I have placed that question before Mary, ever Virgin. And, the answer is so clear. We live in a hands-off, Internet run, sexual misconduct ridden world where folks are frightened and filled with anxiety around physical embrace. In the Church, the word of the day is: Stand Clear. This, sadly, as a result of decades of abuse. We are afraid to embrace and the vapidness of the Internet support the dying of our spirits.

Do you not see that if I changed my ways at the Chapel and used this 'stand-off' approach that people would not come, would not feel Christ in their heart, would not be touched. We are so hungry to be touched and loved in this Age of Distance. Somehow, the Church must break open our tiny shells and allow the goodness known to God, through Jesus and Mary, to fill our hearts and give us the healing and health God desires of us!

LISTENING WITH A SPIRITUAL AND/OR AN EARTHLY MIND

2009-07-23T18:24:00.000-07:00

Outside my Cottage-in-the-Trees Hermitage, I meet others in the Marketplace.

Because of my religious Habit, conversations in the Marketplace are opened whereas without the Holy Habit it may be closed.

Everyone I greet. Smiles are abundant; although not always returned. Some sneer or stare. That is OK; Jesus was spat upon and who am I to expect anything finer.

When folks share with me I put on my spiritual mind, that is, their worries and fears and stories go heaven-ward as I empty myself inside to offer a vehicle for God's grace and wisdom to flow. Ofttimes, I never make a comment or suggestion for people need to speak; need to share; need to be heard and validated; need to feel as if someone has stopped and taken time to listen to just them.

For me, placing my spiritual mind at moments such as above stated gives room for witnessing and experiencing the Christ in the other. Honestly, I find and discover that I love them.

The earthly mind is different; indeed, radically different. The earthly mind has schedules to keep and agendas to make. The earthly mind attempts to get something out of the conversation for themselves which they can take. It tries to place an "I" in the way; instead, of "you". That is ego; not the Christ. That is Self; not God. For me, that may harm and hurt the soul at this moment in time.

People at this moment are new blooms which are tender and fresh and their sweetness is flowering in time. These are sacred, holy moments. The souls are responding to a spiritual mind and an earthly mind has capability to squash and ruin.

To not create an 'either/or' situation, this kind of listening is 'both/and'. With practice, the weight of this listening falls upon the spiritual than earthly; however, since I am fallen and

never have the purity of motive as the Christ, I imitate and fall short.

HERMITAGE MAGDALENE

2009-06-14T19:58:00.000-07:00

Tibi dixit cor meum, quaesivi vultum tuum
vultum tuum, Domine, requiram:
ne avertas faciem tuam a me.
Ps. 27

HERMITAGE MAGDALENE

In the muted silence of my Magdalene hermitage
In the greenness of my windows still,
migratory Mallards call and I stand.

GOD IS PRESENT i listen

HIS whereabouts are everywhere and
inside me felt.

And, what do I feel?
What do I see in my petite cell?
What is it that my Life is witnessing?

L O V E
THAT IS WHAT I KNOW.

L O V E
THAT IS HIS PURPOSE.

L O V E
THAT IS OUR NATURE.

My Hermitage Magdalene, enclosed in LOVE, condenses a consort of Happiness
and Freedom sought by but few!

THE ALMIGHTY ONE is here for the air is made thick by Him.
Viscous and sweet is He.
OH, so dewy Christ, come nearer to me.

Yes, I love so my greenery of God where do the lacy trees and eucalyptus bend to HIM.

I watch and tumble too.

GOD is not INvisible to me. GOD is seen.

For,
what moves the dust
and hastens the leaf
and birds to crackle
and rains to dampen
and dawning colors to come
and the shadows of dusk to widen so long?

It Is The Visible God: That is what It is. VISIBLE DEITY.

In my Hermitage in Magdala,
I perch inside peering for God;

I am secreted, buried behind a wall, within a window;
all day I whisper to His Majesty
as HE comes over me, pronouncing HIS REALM of Glory.

Shall I not open NOW to this LIGHT!

SILENCE:

It holds no-thing.
For my sins have occurred and
yet have settled long before the inception of me.
And, so past has HIS forgiveness sprinkled me anew.

That remains the SECRET of Hermitage Magdalene.

A START OF SOMETHING

2009-05-08T15:56:00.000-07:00

For I do not fear

instead, I hope

For I do not struggle

instead, I dream

For I do not wince at the cool night

instead, I see clearly

For all eternity is graced

and All grace is but an Eternity

Returning is my path

for in You have I found my housing

MY CLOISTER WALK

2009-03-30T14:16:00.000-07:00

Here, amongst the berries and birds of Paradise, I rest and sing.

The airs spin another tale of another day.

Holiest of Holy weeks is drawing near to me

with

Stillness, recollection, reconciliation.

Christ is near/born.

GOOD LOVE

2009-03-25T11:51:00.000-07:00

as juliet to romeo
flower to bee

stream to ocean
glacier to sea

as moon to earth

life to whitened death

I am yours, fair Jesus
come my winter, to bless

THE RAW BLADE

2009-03-22T07:43:00.000-07:00

THE RAW BLADE

Being a semi-enclosed Contemplative in an exploded Active culture has created a quasi-pain in my living. Christ has called me to be apart in Him; to be apart for others; to be apart for my own sake. This reality has been in my being since the cradle years, the tender years of my hay-day. Those languishing days of peering over my tricycle handles into a water-puddle, dizzying me while at the same time showing me the great Blue and whitened skies above, as I bowed down in this watery mirror. It is that upside-down world which is my world now. I bow down deep to see heaven above me. To move toward God, I move into His great Silence, His grand vacuousness, His iconic being and blankness.

In the semi-enclosed Contemplative life which I live, everything makes sense. Everything has a name. All is loved. All is thought and being and blessing and prayer and Sacrament. All is new and born and living and all is dying and moving back to the Source which is love. I joyously celebrate this notion with all my being, each day and every day. Sharing it with all, I live this in my manner of life, my religious Habit, my gestures, my Reconciliation, my Service to God and humanity. I fall and stumble, confess my brokenness while still celebrating this living. However, to some outside my cloister, I am a mistake, a failure and out-of-step with any normal notion of what is real. I am a fool. Yes, I am a fool for Christ’s sake!

Standing amidst an Active culture, I witness seemingly to a purposeless living and to Actives, those burdened and driven by worldly strives, that is a problem. Remaining stilled, by grace, is anti-culture. The culture in that I live exists to move; exists to change and be dynamic. The Enclosed? This Contemplative? What kind of life is this? It is a do-nothing Life! Its life is staid, static and seeming stuck. To what does it witness? My friends, it witnesses to the empty Tomb. To: The question mark. To: The what happened here. To: The depth of wisdom, non-palpable and unknowable through human means.

My life is a monument to this anxiety: That I live a life inside a tension; inside a paradox between one existence and another. I live inside this silence of death into Life, of something else into something other. Standing by in emptiness, in the rawness at the bloodied Cross, I am becalmed into a dancing ballet of new Life to be; believing in the Good God-nature which is ever quickened and brought into being through wordlessness and love.

Sit still.
Peer over the handle bars.
Observe with gratitude.
Listen in utter silence and muteness.

Recall that all has occurred before and after and that this world is a reminder, a remembrance of that which has gone before; been already; and coming ever so soon.

WHEN MY WORLD WENT STILL

2009-03-04T11:03:00.000-08:00

No, I cannot recall the time when it occurred; however, I remember the feel ... the wonder ... the newness ... the question and why of it.

At first, I murmured:

Illness?

Oncoming Death?

Insanity?

Divine Abandonment?

No, not any of those darkened elements rudely striking the soul.

This was a gift of silence of heart:

this is the Christ, living within.

Suffering brought it for

Suffering bought it.

His Cross, carried and coveted

created the patina over which

coated my spirit and changed it.

Flint golden light upon Him,

dazzling all who see; but

for me,

then wearied and so pained,

now by Him rest,

as Nature in winter be.

MONOTONY OF A MONASTIC LIFE

2009-02-25T12:43:00.000-08:00

The sheer singleness and repetition of a Monastic life is most highlighted in my Hermitage.

All things are over and over and over again. The white molding, the beige plastered walls, sage colored drapes in my bedroom with pictures of Mary, ever-Virgin peering over... indeed, a nothing-ever-changes Life.

My walks outside remain staid each day,

seemingly unadorned and lifeless in purpose.

But, no ...

It happens each second in a most miniscule way. God is in the splinter of a glint, the flakiness of a light shown into my Hermitage, my Cottage-in-the-Trees.

God, I can smell` for he roams my kitchen in simmering Lentil soup with smoked turkey, apples and cinnamon wafting scents of good wholesome food!

God, I can see` for each shine of the Western sunset breaking into my silent cell with His Royalty of purples, pinks, reds, crimsons, white, grays slashing about the darkening sky!

God, I can touch` upon each object I see for God is the God IN all things, THROUGH all things, and OF all things.

God, I can hear` through the motoring life outside, through movement of green Peppercorn trees with winded ballets, their life I witness in my stillness.

Oh, it may appear that no/thing changes in my Hermitage; however, those who see no/thing are Thomas. Those Thomas' necessitate proof of some/thing.

However, those who need nothing, oh, so reach and further fly! toward this Holiest of Holies! while unfettered wings blaze true bright

in unquenchable fire.

How Holy Is His Name!

A THIRD ENCOUNTER WITH MARY, VIRGIN

2009-02-14T17:45:00.000-08:00

Sweet Mary came to me yet again.

Not in voice; yet in that same place of

stillness deep within my heart of

hearts. In that place that Mary

resides.

Again, she came unto me while I was

in great distress and turmoil and she

did comfort me, easing my mind.

This time it was while I dozed in

unsettled sleep.

With suddenness, in the locus of her

voice was a small, lit, empty cross. It

appeared ... faded, then appeared a

second time. It was illumined on its

right side.

I knew it was Mary~bringing her Son

this time to me to show that my trials,

though small, are loved, are noticed,

and my spirit is not abandoned.

Inside that quiet time, in the

profundity of pain, Mary's Son joined

me and entered into an inner sanctum

reserved for the Holiest of Holy.

May He ever be praised!

LISTENING TOWARD

2009-02-05T13:36:00.000-08:00

No, you shall not know the word.

For, it is incendiary and troublesome; ofttimes a burden and anachronistic.

It is an awkward word, inside an orb of greed,

narcissism, self-preservation, and con-artists.

However,

You shall know of its meaning:

/Listening toward/

again

/Listening toward/

What does that stand for

and,

what are its fruits does one suppose?

Oh, I know its glint and have savored its many flavors and sweets.

I have stood in its sweaty leafed tropics

sensing the moistening rain upon my bent shoulders.

Many do fall by it; whereas, many do rise, lifting toward the God in Christ!

No ... No ...

I still shan't expose the word to you.

Instead, the golden Fruits of it. Its presents of Glory.

Oh, how myriad/

and stark/

and needed/

and noble/

are its spiritual gifts.

These favors I have witnessed given to those living this word:

Peace.

Stability.

Inner Silence.

Civility

Humility.

Grace.

Self-forgetting

Self-knowledge

Love.

We learn Love when we learn to be silent and

/listen toward.

Oh, for it happens not in a vacuum;

but, in a molten throbbing cauldron;

transfiguring us through time and time's travail.

Seek this word.

It lays in pitchy darkness

upon your oh so muted lips.

THE HEALING OF DARKNESS

2008-12-31T15:52:00.000-08:00

How it just struck me!

As lightening bolts from the cosmologies above!

That: it is during the profundity of sleep that our bodies are healed on the molecular, chemical, and psychic levels.

Were it not for our daily dose of darkness,

we would be most broken.

And, it struck me again and again,

in the sultry bisque night, in that Tomb where the Light lay amongst the Dark, the Dark was resurrection and Life.

Yes, it struck me yet again, yet again and again!

that Christ became whole for us

from darkness; and in darkness was he risen as starbursts

for me.

SOUL HAIKU

2008-12-15T12:50:00.000-08:00

How barren a soul

empty and cascading ... yes,

to hold close pure Flame.

HOLINESS OF PRAYER

2008-12-14T12:45:00.000-08:00

Something occurs while the veil of prayer envelopes me.

It is as if there is a trance,

a dance, taking me far elsewhere.

Shallow and sweet is Her Breath

and the Presence is over me ... over me,

over me mute as rush weed in winter.

Oh, for I am icy pond/

ALIVE! amidst buried stillness,

singly with Christ, my sweeter Love.

SPIRITUAL EYES

2008-12-13T14:57:00.000-08:00

And, when I quiet; become still and pray,

it is as if a fine layer of cloud/ a mist/ through damped morning Forest

covers my eyes and I travel to heaven leaving what is seen

to become unseen.

Through the veil, my heart greets him

and, at once, I hum.

We know the words, which falling effortlessly, drop as dew upon blue-blades.

Commingling, we enter deep through the fogginess,

loving the other through gray invisibilities of

delight/standing outside Time.

O! Prayer: sheath of silence/ pall of Holiness; stay Now with me. Let

me live among your fecund bogs; your greeny trees: motionless, open-mouth & mute

witnessing to your grand Love!

KAIROS AND KRONOS

2008-12-12T15:32:00.000-08:00

Has this happened to you?

You're all nervous and anxious about something. You place enormous energy into this 'thing'. Much time is spent. Hours, days, sometimes a lifetime. Then, something happens which dispels this 'consuming charge' and you are calmed, quieted, resolved, and say words to this effect: "Oh, things worked out just fine". Whereupon, you nag yourself for spending all that precious, won't ever be returned to you Time, being anxious and afraid.

It has happened to me. What I've learned, however, is that ' that everything worked out just fine' feeling is Kairos. God's Time. In God's time, all has been worked out and ; all has been done and planned; and Kronos is what we struggle and become worried over as humans.

But, you can elect to be calm and still and silent and sit at Christ's feet awhile as Kronos catches up with Kairos ... which in my life, always seems with grace to be. Things, most generally, work for the Good. Have you encountered that old expression? Things work out for the Good.

That axiom is pleasant to realize and more so to live and incarnate. Now, this is not to suppose a pre-deterministic world and God is nothing more than deus ex machina. I really hope not for free will prospers us; however, things seem overall to fall into a natural place in the final analyses. Obviously, not to halt working toward goals and/or personal, corporate victories; no, but, it is simply to say the process; its finality; its completion are well in progress. For us, it is to breathe and allow Kairos within Kronos to occur with thanksgiving and gratefulness of heart.

How each of us are coveted by divine mercy, how all of our Radiances are noticed, counted, and held in honor by Him who blesses.

Do we not carry within our own souls our sacred dawns and twilights given to each individually? Oh, yes, how tender a God we love who gives what is necessary, spiritually profitable, and communally beneficial.

We may, in our littleness, ponder that the benefit is otherwise; but, we are small with even more petite compasses. None possess the grander scheme so none can judge truly.

Kairos being manifested in Kronos, indeed; stillness teaches this.

PRESENTS FOR THE PRESENCE

2008-12-07T17:41:00.000-08:00

Outside, through rusted rails, beyond the Palms, passed arcing whispers of windy Pepper trees and violet cloud,

advent is come.

Inky and coal-dark, so long past did those three men

aim for that jumpy star.

How brutal the trails of sand and rock as they hunted for the Child, the Presence, the new Now. Did they cast their magic as they traveled the night winds

searching and Hoping that the Saviour was nigh so soon to be?

And, bearing presents for The Presence, Were they the first

to worship, those elect, those chosen, those Wise Men, three ... there in that

spilled blackness of a cold and color-foiled night

echoing forth True Life.

HEDONISM OR LIFE ABUNDANT

2008-12-06T09:37:00.000-08:00

'...and you shall have life and have it abundantly ...'

In this most material of ages, perhaps since the Roman Empire, having life abundantly can be experienced, it seems, as modern day hedonists. The Oxford Dictionary states that hedonism is: the ethical theory that pleasure ( in the satisfaction of desires) is the highest good and proper aim of human life ...

Read that: The satisfaction of desires is the highest good and (aim) of human life. Now, as nun, that is alarmingly frightening. Unless, of course, the desire is qualified. If, the desire is helping neighbor, assisting the poor and vulnerable, visiting the imprisoned, clothing the naked; loving the unlovable; then, that form of hedonism would line up with 'having life abundantly' and would synchronize. However, to have it qualified as self-serving and self-driven entirely; well, that is a problem, I sense.

We live in Communion. We live in Community. According to Gospel dictates, we are at the service of Christ through others, in others, and with others. To obtain wealth for the mere sake of pleasing our outlandish needs and desires, falling then into that realm of today's hedonistic proclivities is a counter-Christ message of loving the other to simply love the other.

I ponder my desires, my needs and some don't fall into that radicalism of Jesus' offering of not hedonism for the sake of Self; but, instead, the abundancy of giftedness given for Neighbor. This gift to Neighbor always transfigures into gift unto self in forms of Joy; in forms of happiness; and in forms of deep, abiding, interior peace.

THE WHEAT AND THE TARES

2008-12-05T14:32:00.000-08:00

" Let both grow together until the harvest; and in the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, Gather ye together first the tares, and bind them in bundles to burn them: but gather the wheat into my barn."

So, here it is to look and wonder and pray.

Here is the Sower and his field.

The Sower is the Holy Magnificent One.

The Seed is the spirit inside each of us.

The Enemy is the world, with its cares and woes.

The Binding and burning is Transfiguration out of sin into righteousness.

I know the enemy and I know its wiles and crafty ways into a pure soul. Children born are innocent. Their lives are born in nobility and grace. Yes, we are clean and dewy and each of our inceptions and trails are chosen; people are met; incidents occur; pain and betrayal seek us out. Our cares and woes and battles fatigue and fluster us; at times, profoundly alter us.

That alteration or transformation may be the Goodness of all; or, for the Evil of all. Lives are destroyed by falsity and error and lives are transfigured by ruling fate and the overwhelming Grace of God/Creator Being.

Have you been there?

Have you witnessed sheer and unspeakable Beauty rise like a pond's wisp from dung?

Have you observed power, prestige, privilege fall to slink into its diametrical contrast?

The parable here is about Goodness, Temptation, Transformation.

The transforming may be good and it may be not so good in our cultural estimation, depending upon through which lens we peer. This parable can be lived inside out; that is, the good seed upon fertile, fecund ground, comes to final fruition of seed sown upon rocks which birds eat and nothing ever grows with temptation everywhere. That realism is difficult to know and saddens one to see; yet, it is there in our world amongst us. That backward process I have seen amongst my own: its poignancy of pain is palpable.

What is seemingly more profitable is the way Jesus lays it for us: A movement into betterment and brilliance, deep change of inner formation, going far, far into the glory which is God. The Good Sower planting deep the good seed upon a willing, graced ground: Is that not our elected, most longed for path?

PURITAS CORDIS

2008-12-04T14:37:00.000-08:00

Purity of heart springs forth from the very womb, the very depth, the Heart of Christ. The Desert Fathers sought 'puritas cordis'; as well as thousands more from generation to generation. The meat of it strives toward ascetical perfection.

I admit, I, consciously, work inwardly and outwardly for puritas cordis, for total absorption of God within. Indeed, each single action or thought or statement or carriage or manner of being, for me, is filtered through this lens of purity, to please the Holy, the solely Divine. Lining up with Scriptural and Gospel tenets, how I try to aim for this impossible victory; and, as human, fail; and, as human, pick myself up through Grace and wind once more toward the singularity of sacredness each of us are promised.

Thomas Merton says " .... this is the reason for the monk's existence ... puritas cordis". Admittedly, it is the reason for my existence. The reason for my existence as nun is to become of flame of living love for the other, for the stranger, for the misfit, for the downcast, sorrowful, and heartbroken. If puritas cordis is closely at all achieved through my insistency of will, through the grace of our Creator; it is for the other, through the cleansing of Self and 'the old man'. As nun, ascetical practices are deliberated upon the premise that heaven can be touched on this earthly plane; that, God can be seen and heard here in this grounded experience we call earth; and that sacred union with Him is possible.

This archaic, ancient code of purity exists within me. Predicating our human efforts toward the Holy, seeking the One, the Sacred Being, the unspotted Lamb which washes me into the ultimate freedom called Love.

Purity is nothing less than a Living fire, the constant furnace of love toward Neighbor; toward Christ; toward myself. Puritas cordis is the incarnate acceptance of Goodness elected; of grace endowed with wisdom; of knowledge and action albeit bestowed with simple gifts of contemplation and quietude.

Those are the strident tabs of Joy to which this nun seeks, runs, and labors ever forevermore.

BENDING

2008-12-02T10:37:00.000-08:00

I see them attached to the sticks of the bending trees and they do bend and bend. There is no thing in order save the sway and movement, save the stillness when the air is mute.

And, I fall and swing as I watch the leaves upon the sticks upon the trees, attached, moving in freedom, happiness and joy.

Our globe, too, bends and bends still more through the galaxy of lights, through the horizons of colors and pure passions.

The firmaments undulate attached like leaves upon sticks upon this multi-verse of God, bending, bending, bending furthermore.

And, I ask: Is not Freedom that bend, that bending stillness upon the stiff sticks to which I see?

I am crescent moon upon the sweeps of air guiding me, moving me, bending me, bending me further and still further into the muted Holy whom I praise, whom I sing and gather unto myself tonight.

Here, upon the tree of Freedom, upon that tree of allowance, is the bend of vast openness, the sacred motion of all living thing which moves and bends and bends further deep, bending ever over my unsaid God.

WAIT FOR THE LORD

2008-11-30T18:53:00.000-08:00

What does 'wait for the Lord' truly encompass?

How are I to be possessed by that?

It has been two thousand years and so far, no substantive proof that Jesus has arrived with the New Kingdom. Two thousand years is an awfully long time. Are we idiots? Is our faith debunked? Are we living in some magical fairy land which we term: Christedom.

Well, no.

Waiting is part of spirituality. It is the purple dark of an orchid awaiting its bloom.

We must wait; for it is all our calling, our mysticism, our destinies.

Some wait with fever; others wait with power; others wait with anger and greed; while, still others wait with holy reverence and love. We choose our own Waiting.

How are we to choose?

How are we to ponder and recollect and think on these things?

The choice lays deep within our spirits, I sense. Deep, so deep, that words do not express its profundity and depth. The choice often is unconscious, is led, is offered to us as something altogether different. What we consciously choose may not be what we are really choosing; or, rather, have it chosen for us. The choice is God's. Waiting is the process which God utilizes within us...

It appears, does it not, that we are abandoned at times. Yes, it does. However, that abandonment is more often the closest we ever get to the Divine and his Love. Yes, I know; for, I have lived a multitude of darkness' to render this experience of God true and valid.

God waits.
God is Waiting.
God is the Wait.

For us, stillness of heart and quieting of spirit ... that path leads to the sacred, holy Wait ... that journey toward the Godhead and toward all our own destinies.

Wait for the Lord, his Day is near ...

SANCTIFICATION OF SUFFERING

2008-11-29T19:06:00.000-08:00

Pain is my companion.

I suffer each day.

No pill nor ointment nor medication removes it.

It is skeletal, it is invisible; and, it is always.

The pain sometimes is so intense that I feel as if I shall black out; but, I don't. Mary, ever Virgin, sees to that. My faith in the saints and Christ soothe me as their suffering, I do now join. This concept was difficult to capture for me at first. Suffering as sanctification. I'm rather slow and it took me years to grasp the intent and meaning of this type of suffering.

What does suffering mean for me, for anyone?
How can it be good?
How can it be beneficial and helpful to a soul?

For my life it is:

Belief. Communion. Oneness. Compassion. Holiness. Sanctity.

Look upon the Christ. Look how profoundly Christ suffered ... as an unspotted Lamb before his slayers. Look at not simply how he died; but, why he died. He died so all could inherit the realm of living, undying saints; indeed, of redemption in his love. He died so that any smallness we have can be elevated, unified, and united with him. He is Messiah; we are human. By imitation, we are sanctified, we become Compassion; we become Healing; we become who we are as Person.

It has taken half a lifetime to learn that my pain and mortal suffering has, indeed, strong meaning and purpose. Its purpose is to make me a saint in his Kingdom. Its purpose is to help me love others in ways never before thought. That's the purpose, that's the reason, I discovered. I take it all in its uncomfortableness; lift it, bless it in my littleness, and repeat it... over and over. Lift, bless, repeat.

Then, anything is sufferable with this ointment of attitude. Then, it can be chosen for sanctity for it is given over and redeemed; I am redeemed and given over.

I have suffered near a lifetime: Today, I understand a bit more about sanctity and sacredness within a human limited framework. What it means, that is, to receive after pouring out and pouring out some more until you are dry bones and hollow as wind.

For there it is: To comprehend suffering, my friends, is it not like grasping a sweet rose in the thick of a briar bush?

BECOMING FLAMES OF FIRE

2008-11-29T10:02:00.000-08:00

"Abba Lot went to see Abba Joseph and said: Abba, as much as I am able I practice a small rule, a little fasting, some prayer and meditation, and remain quiet, and as much as possible I keep my thoughts clean. What else should I do? Then the old man stood up and stretched out his hands toward heaven, and his fingers became like ten torches of flame. And he said: If you wish you can become all flame."

So, what do we have here? What is before us to learn and study? What fruits do we glean?

What is seen in the Gospels regarding the Letter of the law and the Spirit of the Law. For me, this Desert Saying is about my life in the Spirit of the Law. Oh, sure, I can observe, and fast, and show obedience, and bow, prostrate, and genuflect; yet, are all those things living in my heart for the Heart? I look deep inside and query.

Outward signs of inward and interior graces can, in my view, become muddled and leaned upon as interior grace alone. The outward signs could be simply static and not reflect the liveliness of the spirit within. This points to problems known only to the person ( imagining that they are conscious ) and to God. Yes, I've seen myself sleep walking through my life of the Spirit and such precious time it wastes!

So, I ask myself: Am I a living flame, with ten torches held high for the Divine? Or, am I a dull nothing with only show to offer? Crucial questions in crucial times. Pray God that I be on fire for Him, only Him, my Husband and friend. May I please Him with the lights of flame instead of words of emptiness. May I see my path through fire and blaze rather than through the unsteadiness of self which may blind and lead astray.

ECSTASY AND THE DESERT

2008-11-29T08:56:00.000-08:00

And, when I have been drunk with passion, and swelled with the oceanic love and joys which God, the Divine, brings; it is then that the emptiness follows as an inflated balloon issues its air. The purgation of all within, all that sated and fattened me, becomes a hollowness for the other's space and time; becomes through and from the 'Other'.

For me, it seems like this:

I am enormously engorged with Him with the juices fruits, and meats of his joy and love; only to digest them all, incorporating it within my being; then, utilizing this spiritualized input to feed another as I empty my fill, my communal kenosis. How can God be there for my sisters, my brothers if I am so full? No, there needs be inner-emptying; for, it is the kenotic way, the better way, the way of choice.

Indeed, am I not his petroleum station; his wayside food stand along the path? I am empty then filled, used, then emptied again all for my sisters and brothers. If I become interiorly barren for his sake; others may be satisfied for his sake.

Oh, yes that is the intoxicating pilgrimage of ecstasy and desert commingled, working as one with the hand of Christ touching and caressing and embracing all humankind through one of his tiny, inconsequential servants, so happy to bid his pleasure.

THE SNAIL

2008-11-28T15:50:00.000-08:00

So, a snail crawls up to a person's house and knocks on the door.

A Man opens the door, sees the snail, then picks it up and throws it as far as he can.

Two and a half weeks later, the snail knocks on the door again.

The same Man answers.

The snail says to the Man, "So what was THAT all about?"

A SIMPLE PARADIGM OF DETACHMENT

2008-11-28T15:12:00.000-08:00

It seems the World is awash with negativity and 'bad vibes', utilizing the vernacular. I feel it within myself each time I get behind the wheel or encounter folks hurried and rushed in the marketplace. Sometimes, these moments of negativity and harshness render my spirit depressed and distressed. At times, the feelings I find difficult to shake.

A few weeks ago, I came to a notion of detachment; whereby, those negative feelings, I pray inwardly to neutralize. That those negative emotions, I send to Mary, ever Virgin, that I wash them in the Blood of the Unspotted Lamb, and offer them to be cleaned by the power of the Holy Spirit. Praying earnestly in my heart, to the Heart, I ask and plead for neutrality and peace within. Perhaps, the feelings may not become positive; yet, the feelings have been neutralized and detached.

Detachment is crucial. Attachment to people, things, places, even memories, leads to grounding in our transitory world. We are of dust and to dust we shall return. We are passing through this world; we are in this world, yet, not of this world. Detachment leads to inner peace and further availability for relationship with others in a deep fashion.

Now, this paradigm works for me. Lately, I have encountered some hard situations which in the past would have supplanted my feeling of peaceful interiority. Applying these above mentioned techniques of prayer and supplication, the hard and negative feelings fled. It was grace which freed me. Grace which healed me. The grace of God which entered me and softened the emotions and allowed detachment and inward quiet to reign ...

EVERYTHING I'VE LEARNED ABOUT GOD I WAS TAUGHT BY MY CAT

2008-11-26T17:07:00.000-08:00

The other evening, Pumpkin, my 7 year old mixed breed long hair completely spoiled rotten cat, and I were just playing around with his favorite toy: Bird on a Stick. The toy is all chewed and loved up and stroked and kissed and battered and seen much better days.

So, we were playing with the 'Bird on a Stick' and Pumpkin flopped on his back with all fours way high in the air and I teased him with the feathers in his face and his eyes widened, his mouth opened large, and his front and back legs extended as wide as could be. He was purring so loud, well, even the neighbors could hear.

And, I thought: This is how I am with God.

In the Presence of the Divine, in the object of our greatest desiring, I roll upon my back with eyes wide open, mouth wide open, and all appendages reaching upward, loving what I see, trying to grasp it in its entirety!

I learned something that evening with Pumpkin. I learned that I love God as much as Pumpkin loved Birds ( faux as they were ) for it is as natural for him to love and desire as it is for me to love and desire. That both of us reach and work to glory in our love and that it is all good and it is all well done and makes perfect absolute sense ... human, feline, and Divine.

PRAYER AMIDST CHAOS/WHERE IS THE DIVINE?

2008-11-26T15:28:00.000-08:00

In my poustinia of the spirit, deep inside my heart, I watch and witness and experience the suffering of all classes around me. People speak their stories and often they are stories of disenfranchisement and marginalized living. People living a shadowed existence with no one with whom to speak.

As one who is still and listens, I hear so many tales and watch the tears flow; however, never do I question ... so far ... the Divine in these folks as they speak. Theirs is a journey of the Christ, theirs is the walk of Job. Theirs is the flight into the desert where temptations await and sanctification will come.

'Be Still and Know that I AM God'... how crucial those ancient and new words are to each of us in our personal chaos and 'unstillness'. Silence is not so much our society, our culture. Silence is uncomfortable for it invites depth of thought and forces us at times to peer inward. The knowing of oneself is lifelong and ofttimes avoided for its spiraling nature deep inside.

Read this: Acquire interior peace and a multitude of men with find their salvation near you. (St. Serapion) ... Mind you, not through you; but, near you. That is good and makes sense. We are not the Divine but mere mortals. By our living others can see and watch and take part in the numinous of the Spirit. Not through, but, astride/near/next to.

The Divine, the Holy cannot be, as I see, in the winds of materialism and consumerism. Those are flights wherein they begin and never end. They fade and tarnish and die. It seems to me in my long painful journey toward God, toward the Heart, going inside in prayer that it is what is unseen which lasts an eternity. The unseen, the invisible, the intuited. 'Where your treasure is, there be your heart also'

As an Anglican Professed nun, I pray for all and listen to all and my life is ever a kenosis, a self-emptying one as to fill myself with God and his greatness. To be available, in my emptiness, to the other is the vocation I follow by Christ's lead.

SIMPLICITY, OBEDIENCE, AND CHASTITY IN TODAY'S WORLD

2008-11-26T15:25:00.000-08:00

What does it mean to be a monastic in today's culture? What does it prosper to give up everything to follow an invisible God? Why would someone even do it given all our society can offer the person? It is almost non-sensical; however, to some it is the only way to make sense within.

Yes, I am a fool ... a fool for Christ's sake and how happy I am to both share in its witness and its personal pride ( to use a dangerous word ). The 'world' in a matter of words, I have left. Not physically; however, but, by the Vows I took and follow and love and honor.

But, here is the heart of it: Though I have died to the world, the world is ever-living in me now. As a nun, a Celibate, my world has widened to such a degree that all are entered into it and we join together in sorrow and joy; peace and happiness; brokenness and integrity; purity and pollution. It is for the Vows that I am free. So very free to love all as Christ in his Freedom loved and gave all. I am not Him; I imitate Him.

Though alone, my prayer is joined by many who need someone who is still and available and open and inclusive and loving and all that the Gospels teach.

I have a story to share:

Alone the other day, a person came to me. This person had something to say which really wasn't what they truly intended in heart to say. Ever so slightly, this person's eye was tearing ... so slightly as to not notice almost. "What is the tear?" That was all it took. A simple notice of something, a window inside to something. This person shared a pain, an agonizing pain they carried for years. And, I am but a whisk broom sweeping up and tidying up.

Each hair upon our heads is counted: We, too, are watched. Falling, we are lifted; stumbling, we are dusted off; weeping, we are joined.

So, my Vowed life is sensical for me for I am his servant and witness to the Light that loves all equally.

Simplicity, Obedience, and Chastity, though counter to our driven world, it is the Divine's task for me.

THE SPIRITUALITY OF ALONENESS

2008-11-26T15:20:00.000-08:00

The enigmatic Glenn Gould, Canadian writer, Pianist, once wrote ( paraphrasing)

"When I am with another, I need 'x' amount of time to recover myself. He continued, everyone has their personal factor or formulaic inner number of contact followed by aloneness."

That is very insightful and is also quite human. Oh, we could get into the Introverts and the Extroverts; but, that is another subject altogether. I would like to stay with what Gould said.

Whether or not this formula is learned over time, changes over time, or is innate and inborn, I do not know: however, I shall agree with Gould that indeed, yes, there is this factor present. In my wanderings, I observe some ignoring their internal factor with the result being: stress, anger, self-abuse, and/or other societal woes. In a real sense, this human equation must be noted and obeyed for peace of mind and personal serenity.

I have experienced this in my life numerous times. For me, my algebraic equation is very high, perhaps, higher than most. I am a Monastic who needs plenty of time for thought and time alone. Sometimes, days alone. That is self-care and palliative for my soul. If I ignore it, stress occurs and I am in unbalance. The quotient of silence, too, is high for me. For my inner pendulum to be still, I need hours upon hours of absolute silence. Again, days sometimes.

Others don't have similar needs. Others can live feeding of the energies of other and manage beautifully; for, in fact, they would become diminished or nutrient depleted were it not for their constant concord with others. For me, as passive observer and pray-er for all, it is of interests to see different personalities with different scopes of need.

For oneself, this is one to ponder within:

Who are you?
What is your formula?
What suits you and nourishes you?
What empties you and leaves you withered and dry?

Think about Gould's equation, apply it to yourself, thinking deeply and most thoroughly.

Glenn Gould was a master thinker and writer of the 20th century. Would it not behoove us to listen, read, and inwardly digest the sensibility of his words.

SILENT INTERIORITY IN THE NOISINESS OF NOW

2008-11-26T15:17:00.000-08:00

iPhones, iPods, IMs, Text Messaging, Chat Rooms, Mall musak, televisions, stereos ablaze, sound sound everywhere, in all places. Indeed, a veritable invasion of cacophonous sound. We must internally vibrate 24/7 with all this input. We have become wired in our own wiring. We have become addicts to noise.

Moderation in all things is what is counseled by those sagacious ones. Yes, moderation. Yet, how, in our world connected today is it possible to achieve silent, still interiority? Peacefulness of spirit, how radical an idea: however, it is an idea whose time has come. It must come but for the sheer, stark sanity of our species.

In my 'Cottage in the Trees Hermitage', I take note of the outside goings on . It seems that if we don't stop for one single moment, our lives shall end. That, in fact, the silence is the silence of the dead. I sense it could be suggested apparent in the 'awkward silences' of our daily routines. Being still and silent amidst noise isn't comfortable for some and is anathema to our cultural milieu. I watch as we have evolved ( or, perhaps, devolved ) into a go, go, go people with lists in our hands, chaos in our minds, meetings to fly to, people to text or IM Right Now, if not, immediately.

I query within: Who put the nickel in? It is almost as if we move fast enough for long enough, more and more will be accomplished and magically somehow more time of Life shall be granted. Indeed, the Superman notion of reversing Time by speeding backwards around Earth.

How much depth is truly missed in the rush. Not simply depth within ourselves; but, more poignantly, the chasms of depth within ourselves. If we cannot achieve a modicum of stillness, how really can we 'be' with another? We can't, I sense. We simply cannot. To truly 'be' with another person, first we must have a degree of quiet inside ourselves, emptiness inside ourselves to allow for the 'other'. How can we listen if we won't stop talking?

In my estimation and experience, inward silence is grasped slowly; however, is grasped through, pointedly, detachment. To clarify, a detachment as in letting go, breathing out, observing passively. This may sound like 'non-love'; however, quite the contrary. Imagine: If we are in a personal or spiritual twitter, question how we can truly be available as loving toward others. It is diametrically opposed. The two states cancel each other and thereby no one is attended to as Christ for one another.

Silencing the inner noise, the randomness of rancor, the onslaught of input is a path toward peacefulness and love for Neighbor. It is a spiritual discipline and is fearful, at times. Our culture in ways maligns the still, the silent; yet, that ought not to work against this wonderful and bountiful gift for yourself and the other.

Allow yourselves the giftedness of sacred silence, of holy rest for the recompense that it contains: Relationship, inner renewal, and priorities aligned in ways you may never have dreamt.