HAUNTED BY THE HOLY GHOST

...maybe you're asking the wrong questions?

"What is man, that thou art mindful of him?""

Is there anything more "God-like" than being mindful of another?

If you can change someone else's life by a single word, a deed, a glance...or by walking with them for a few moments as they travel through the valley of shadow... then you have done  more than than most men have done in a whole lifetime.

Nothing, and no one is more important than the one who is standing right in front of you...or as Fr. Stephen says:

"No where been commanded to change the world or to save civilization"...

"C.S. Lewis, in his The Abolition of Man, wrote of “men without chests,” describing a certain breed of modern man which had jettison his heart, having substituted false science and a devalued subjectivity for the eternal verities that had once linked human beings together in a common culture.

He wrote his work in the immediate years following World War II. Nothing in our educational system has reversed the trends of which he complained. We have not regained our chests – not as a culture.

However, we have no where been commanded to change the world or to save civilization.

 These are things that are measured on a much larger stage of history and longer period
than a single life.
It is not the diagnosis of our disease that is so important as it is the medicine of our healing.

The heart which must again fill our chests is not some missing part of Western Civilization
but the heart of flesh that is our inheritance in Christ.

It is an imperishable healing that alone can give us what we lack."

.

.

.

h/t to father stephen

What Is Man – That Thou Art Mindful of Him?

The inner quality of catholicity-A passage from Archpriest George Florovsky’s work entitled “The catholicity of the Church.”

The catholicity of the Church

A passage from Archpriest George Florovsky’s work entitled “The catholicity of the Church.”

The inner quality of catholicity

The catholicity of the Church is not a quantitative or a geographical conception. It does not at all depend on the world-wide dispersion of the faithful. The universality of the Church is the consequence or the manifestation, but not the cause or the foundation of its catholicity.

The world-wide extension or the universality of the Church is only an outward sign, one that is not absolutely necessary. The Church was catholic even when Christian communities were but solitary rare islands in a sea of unbelief and paganism. And the Church will remain catholic even unto the end of time when the mystery of the “falling away” will be revealed, when the Church once more will dwindle to a “small flock.” “When the Son of Man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth?” (Luke 18:8). The Metropolitan Philaret expressed himself very adequately on this point: “If a city or a country falls away from the universal Church, the latter will still remain an integral, imperishable body” (Opinions and Statements of Philaret, Metropolitan of Moscow, Concerning the Orthodox Church in the East, St. Petersburg, 1886, p. 53.). Philaret uses here the word “universal” in the sense of catholicity.

The conception of catholicity cannot be measured by its wide-world expansion; universality does not express it exactly. Καθολικη from Καθ σλου means, first of all, the inner wholeness and integrity of the Church’s life. We are speaking here of wholeness, not only of communion, and in any case not of a simple empirical communion. Καθ σλου is not the same as Κατα παντóς; it belongs not to the phenomenal and empirical, but to the noumenal and ontological plane; it describes the very essence, not the external manifestations. We feel this already in the pre-Christian use of these words, beginning from Socrates.

If catholicity also means universality, it certainly is not an empirical universality, but an ideal one; the communion of ideas, not of facts, is what it has in view. The first Christians when using the words ‘Ekklisía Katholikí (Εκκλησια Καθολικη) never meant a world-wide Church. This word rather gave prominence to the orthodoxy of the Church, to the truth of the “Great Church,” as contrasted with the spirit of sectarian separatism and particularism; it was the idea of integrity and purity that was expressed. This has been very forcibly stated in the well known words of St. Ignatius of Antioch:

“Where there is a bishop, let there be the whole multitude; just as where Jesus Christ is, there too is the Catholic Church” (Ignat Smyrn. 8:2).

These words express the same idea as does the promise:

“Where two or three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them” (Mt 18:19-20).

It is this mystery of gathering together (μυστηριον της συναξεως, Mystírion tis sinákseos) that the word catholicity expresses. Later on St. Cyril of Jerusalem explained the word “catholicity” which is used in the Creed in the traditional manner of his Church. The word “Church” means the “gathering together of all in one union;” therefore it is called a “gathering” (εκκλεσια, Ekklisía).

The Church is called catholic, because it spreads over all the universe and subjects the whole of the human race to righteousness, because also in the Church the dogmas are taught “fully, without any omission, catholically, and completely” (καθολικως και ανελλειπως) because, again, in the Church every kind of sin is cured and healed” (Catech. 18:23 (Migne P.G. 33 c. 1044)).

Here again catholicity is understood as an inner quality. Only in the West, during the struggle against the Donatists was the word “catholica” used in the sense of “universality,” in opposition to the geographical provincialism of the Donatists (Cf. Pierre Batiffol, Le Catholicisme de St. Augustin, I. (Paris, 1920), p. 212

— “Rappelons que le nom ‘catholique’ a servi à qualifier la Grande Eglise par opposition aux hérétiques … Le nom est vraisemblablement de création populaire et apparait en Orient au second siècle. Les tractatores du 4. siècle, qui lui cherchent une signification étymologique et savante, veulent y voir l’expression soit de la perfection intégrale de la foi de l’Eglise, soit du fait que l’Eglise ne fait pas acception de personnes de rang, du culture, soit enfin et surtout de fait que l’Eglise est repandue dans le monde entire d’une extrémité à l’autre. Augustin ne veut connaître que ce dernier sens.” Cp. Also Bishop Lightfoot, in his edition of St. Ignatius, v. 2 (London, 1889), p. 319. Note ad Loc.

The history of the Christian and pre-Christian use of the terms ekklisía katholikí (Εκκλησια Καθολικη) and katholikos (καθολικóς) generally in various settings deserves careful study; apparently there have been no special investigations on the subject. In Russian, reference may be made to the very valuable, though not exhaustive or faultless, article of the late Professor M. D. Muretov in the supplement to his book Ancient Jewish Prayers Ascribed to St. Peter (Sergiev Posad, 1905). See also Bishop Lightfoot, St. Ignatius, v. 2 (London, 1889), p. 310, note).

Later on, in the East, the word “catholic” was understood as synonymous with “ecumenical.” But this only limited the conception, making it less vivid, because it drew attention to the outward form, not to the inner contents. Yet the Church is not catholic because of its outward extent, or, at any rate, not only because of that. The Church is catholic, not only because it is an all-embracing entity, not only because it unites all its members, all local Churches, but because it is catholic all through, in its very smallest part, in every act and event of its life.

The nature of the Church is catholic; the very web of the Church’s body is catholic. The Church is catholic, because it is the one Body of Christ; it is union in Christ, oneness in the Holy Ghost-and this unity is the highest wholeness and fulness. The gauge of catholic union is that “The multitude of them that believed be of one heart and of one soul” (Act 4:32).

Where this is not the case, the life of the Church is limited and restricted.

The ontological blending of persons is, and must be, accomplished in oneness with the Body of Christ; they cease to be exclusive and impenetrable. The cold separation into “mine” and “thine” disappears.

The growth of the Church is in the perfecting of its inner wholeness, its inner catholicity, in the “perfection of wholeness”;

“That they may be made perfect in one” (John 17:23).

Maybe love is waiting at the end of every room

When I was little I'd stare at her picture

And talk to the mother of God

I swear sometimes I'd see her lips move

Like she was trying to say something to me

Something as simple as boys and girls

Gets tossed all around and then lost in the world

Something as hard as a prayer on your back

Can wait a long time for an answer...

I live too many miles from the ocean

And I'm getting older and odd

I get up every morning with a black cup of coffee

And I talk to the mother of God

Something as simple as boys and girls

Gets tossed all around and then lost in the world

Something as hard as a prayer on your back

Can wait a long time for an answer...

Maybe ... it's alright.

Maybe we won't fight anymore.

Maybe love is waiting at the end of every room.

I don't know.

I don't know.

Lyrics: The Mother of God by Patti Griffin.

Image:Original Artwork/mixed media by Jill Johnson

...the only thing you can’t get is red ink.’

Recalling a recent quote I heard after while reading yet another lament for our "lost freedom", as if we really knew the first thing about freedom:

And this one was written in 1996

   " In an old joke from the defunct German Democratic Republic, a German worker gets a job in Siberia; aware of how all mail will be read by the censors, he tells his friends: ‘Let’s establish a code: if a letter you get from me is written in ordinary blue ink, it’s true; if it’s written in red ink, it’s false.’ After a month, his friends get the first letter, written in blue ink: ‘Everything is wonderful here: the shops are full, food is abundant, apartments are large and properly heated, cinemas show films from the West, there are many beautiful girls ready for an affair — the only thing you can’t get is red ink.’

    Of the joke, Zizek writes:

    One starts by agreeing that one has all the freedoms one wants — then one merely adds that the only thing missing is the ‘red ink’: we ‘feel free’ because we lack the very language to articulate our unfreedom. What this lack of red ink means is that, today, all the main terms we use to designate the present conflict — ‘war on terror’, ‘democracy and freedom’, ‘human rights’, and so on — are false terms, mystifying our perception of the situation instead of allowing us to think it. In this precise sense, our ‘freedoms’ themselves serve to mask and sustain our deeper unfreedom."

From the film, Zizek!

no more political posts.  I used up my quota for the next 5 years.

A Tangled Web: the one needful thing for all bloggers---my token political post

Desperately Needed for Bloggers Everyone:

a microsecond of charitable thought before hitting the send button saying anything

"......the American Constitution is not linked to a concession of absolute truth. It is the Declaration of Independence that is anchored upon self-evident truth, and the relation between the two documents is virtually unexplored in the Supreme Court. Indeed, only Justice Thomas has really thought about it seriously, hence my admiration.

Does Barack Obama believe in the truth of the human person? Not surprisingly, he values the self-evident truths of the Declaration of Independence-even as he argues that the deliberative democracy established by our Constitution casts suspicion upon a claim of absolute truth. The founders, Obama observes, uniformly rejected all forms of absolute authority, whether that of the monarch, the high priest, or the majority. And yet, as John Paul II told us, democracy detached from absolute truth can be little more than another form of totalitarianism. Obama has similarly observed that absolutists can be correct-as the blunt wrong of slavery illustrates. “Sometimes,” Obama notes, “absolute truths may well be absolute.”

To reconcile the pragmatism of democracy with claims of truth requires that our minds be nourished by wide perspectives discussed freely and respectfully; it requires a heart full of grace, not anger. Within our own Catholic community, we need to bear in mind one further caution from our new president: that claiming public territory outside the church requires persuasion, not intimidation or force. Translating particularistic faith beliefs into rational argument is the stuff of democracy. “I may be opposed to abortion for religious reasons,” Obama said during the campaign, “but if I seek to pass a law banning the practice, I cannot simply point to the teachings of my church or [invoke] God’s will. I have to explain why abortion violates some principle that is accessible to people of all faiths, including those with no faith at all.” 

Of course, that is the very reason Cardinal Justin Rigali and Bishop William Lori were so quick to remind candidate Biden of the scientific basis for the church’s life perspective. Indeed one might ask, with the church having brought forth its scientific claim in so forthright and objective a manner as it has in modern encyclicals, is it not proper for the burden of evidence now to shift to those who, for religious or nonreligious reasons, believe unfettered abortion ought to be permitted?

It is a valid question; and were the right-wing Catholic blogs not so preoccupied with demonizing me and other brothers and sisters in Christ who backed our president-elect, perhaps the question would receive some competent discussion.

See My Right Sidebar section titled: just right over there, a little bit higher >>>

--EXCERPTS/CURRENT BOOKS AND ARTICLES I AM READING

FROM: A Tangled Web: The Election & the Blogosphere....read the whole article, link to source.

Photo: looking above the tangled web BY  Azazelle

Warning: Shameless Plug-NORTHERN SKIES......Drake's New CD Just Realeased

Northern Skies

The Newest CD released by Drake, the Band
(which includes my favorite Violinist
and one of my favorite daughters (Bea)

Yes, I have given up all hope of hearing strains of Bach, Mahler or Shostakovitch any time soon, unless she puts them into a riff/improvisation as part of one of Drake's songs. 
Not likely.

There is a "rumor" that one of the more "complicated improvise solos is based the theme song from "Sesame Street".
BTW,  she never even watched Sesame Street, or any of those "pseudo-educational/parental guilt soothing" TV shows; and most "kids" shows she gave up on after 5 minutes, miffed that most were an insult to ANYONE'S intelligence.

So how she picked up the Theme Song from Sesame Street is mystifying, especially in the light of a  late night phone call I received asking me if I had ever heard of  "SCOOBY-DOO".
She was sure her "band mates" were just making things up to pile on more "HOME SCHOOL" points...
Yes, Virginia(Bea, or whatever name you are going by), there really is a Scooby-Doo


ANYWAY....The CD is great, see the LEFT SIDE BAR to listen or download some sample tracks, watch a clip of a performance, and maybe order yourself a copy of Northern Skies (or their previous CD, "These And Other Things").

And not the warning on MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, which has a quick comment questioning the Bible Exegetical skills of someone named "George"....

...someone who's hasn't been seen or hear from since yesterday, Jan 20 around Noon.

Bea, what do you know, when did you know it, and how involved are you in with his disappearance????????

Sounds like a job for "you know who...."

or just watch this instead
(Bea's solo on the CD sample track is much more "WILD"-it was still new when this was done)

Drake - Mission Accomplished

what's left...

now, what was I doing?

I can't think in straight lines...

I can't  walk in a straight line; The part of my brain that tells my body where it is in space is malfunctioning.  I frequently bump into things, trip over my own feet, and standing still, have been known to just ...tip over.  (I lean against walls much of the time).

And no matter where I go, if there is a whole row of empty seats,  and I know that I will have to ask people to move if I need to get out,  I will never choose the seat on the end.  It's less rude to ask people to let you go past them than it is to ask them to pick you up off the floor when you miss the seat and end up sprawled in the aisle.  Chairs without arms are just too easy to fall off or or miss by an inch or two, especially if it is someplace where you have to get up and down alot, like church.

It's too easy to just fall....

fall out of time, space, thought, off the edge, always the edge of something, but never hitting the bottom, just landing on another ledge that is getting ready to give way...

it's like gravity that holds your body together is gone.
I tell my husband when I stand up I am never sure if something of me is going to fall off.

falling, breaking up, parts pulled away by another gravity, grabbing on just in time.....

...it's a feeling I have all the time...no matter what I am doing.

Thinking, writing, trying to play music (I am taking organ lessons for physical/music therapy to help my balance, coordination, memory...music with movement kills lots of birds, but I don't seem to be aiming very well, or hitting any of them; they all end up flying away, chirping as if they are laughing at me.

Sitting on the bench (that has no back of sides) is like jumping out of a plane...fortunately, I have known my organ teacher for many years, and I would trust her to to wrap my parachute if I were jumping out of a plane, and I wouldn't have any fear about landing safely.

The thoughts in my head and the words that come out of my mouth, bear little resemblance to each other

 On many days trying to have a conversation, balance listening, processing what I hear, respond appropriately (all the while trying to not to fall off a chair, drop or spill something,  is like trying do do the Olympic decathlon events all at once.

Sitting in a group of people who are casually conversing reminds me of how it used to feel in grade school when we would play volley ball....please don't hit me the ball...

And I have to think so hard to do every day things,
Let alone things that actually required thought,
My brain hurts, aches sometimes just like my joints do on a cold day.

I said extremely silly things when I tried to have sensible conversations so
I avoided them. I had a persistent headache and mental exhaustion. I
found myself saying "left, right, left" as I was walking along.
I squinted if I had to concentrate.

I had to leave notes for myself all over and then still don't know what they mean...
I had so many alarms set that I never knew what was beeping and why, so I just quit.

Besides, I can have an alarm tell me exactly what to do when and then get distracted and end up forgetting what I was supposed to do, or end up losing so much time (still not sure where it goes) that I feel time is always chasing me.

On particularly bad days, if I have to do something I'd say it out loud (softly, if people are around-yes, I know I talk to myself) until I had done it or by the time I'd start out to do it, it would be gone within 10 seconds

Leaving the house in my car...I am going to....wherever my destination happens to be.  I now have a GPS system there have been times it was just more helpful to program where I was going so it would tell me when to a turn was coming up--it was less taxing on my brain than repeating (I am going to turn at the next street, I am going to turn, I am going to turn....and then miss the turn anyway.

Or...and btw, I don't drive on days like this anymore...red light-stop, red light-stop, red light -stop,.......

Most of the time I chose not to drive, unless I absolutely have to, and then only if it is short distances and it is somewhere I have driven to many times.

During bad spells, I need more rest/ quiet/very low noise, light, movement/ kind of like isolation therapy...I worry people think I am avoiding them and when I want to be around them, they won't be there

Though it seems counter-intuitive, one of the most restful things is reading a lot.
I read things in sections, never all the way through...and I also find it helpful to completely change subjects frequently.  I may read a few chapters of a book, then read an article from a journal, study a chapter from the bible, read through some of my daughter's and their friend's facebook, blogs, and harass them with a comment or two or three.

I may not remember much of what I read, or just bits and pieces that choose to float around in my brain.
Sometimes they will connect to something that comes up weeks latter, but don't ask me where I read it...or if I read it...I could have daydreamed it, or just thought about it, wrote a bit about it and then deleted it, but it all floats around in the same space and like rubber ducks in a tub of water, keep bobbing up and down, in and out of my line of vision or thought.
I never know which one is going to float into view just at the right time, connecting with something someone has said, and many times nobody gets the "connection" anyway.
that makes me smile.

Reading.....So access to large amount/types of reading material is the best thing about the computer.
I know my family jokes about not being able to rest if someone in cyberspace is wrong about something...that I am out to make sure everyone is straight on something...but even if I did used to do some of that, to compose a coherent paragraph in answer to someone spouting something just begging to be set straight...it takes too many brain cells to compose the 2 or 3 paragraphs needed, and some days I CAN'T  even write that, at least well enough to satisfy my standards...so I have learned to let most things go (IN SPITE OF  WHAT MY FAMILY CLAIMS).

And all they need to do is recall the last conversation when I tried to explain something to them to know that this is not a my toolbox of skills, even on good days.

....unless all the planets a aligned just right, and there is no full moon, and the next day is not Friday.  There are moments when the fog clears, but no way to predict them, or how long they will last. The last time I was able to write a email to a friend that actually contained some understandable content, I copied and sent it to about 10 other people, knowing they had been waiting forever to hear from me, but I couldn't put two words together.
So what if my emails get passed around like an annual Christmas letter...it beats people thinking I don't care enough to communicate with them, or that I moved away, or maybe worse.

what's left...Reading... the computer spares me from places I used to love to go, but avoid now as if my life depended on it; places  Borders and Barnes and Noble.
For me, are now just nice places to have coffee.

Shopping...stores, or anyplace that has more than 3 things to choose from is like entering  Dante's inferno.
The sign on the front door may as well read ABANDON ALL HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE. 

I am finally past the stage of thinking THIS time will be different...but until I finally admitted this...it was like the movie "Groundhog Day" that looped and looped, except that someone stole the happy ending....and I still get that same feeling walking into a store.

Grocery stores, bookstores, any store;  choosing a book, magazine, detergent, a flavor of yogurt, a box of Kleenex,  a birthday card, soap, shampoo; I could feel by brain start to solidify.
And the ninth circle-choosing a gift for someone I love (that I do desperately want to give a gift to)...it's like I am failing the simplest test of basic friendship...it always ends with wandering aimlessly, my brain feeling like concrete,  and leaving empty handed and  in a daze.

Not only is it wasted time and energy, once I get home it takes hours of isolation and quiet for my brain to reboot before I can attempt something like a conversation, answering the phone, or anything else requiring brain cells.  I must say that is one of the few times, pushing past the fatigue and doing a brainless task that has a visible reward is helpful...my kid's think I am going on an OCD cleaning binge, but something in the physical work and a visible accomplishment helps me feel that I am not a total vegetable.  If it wasn't for dead brain syndrome days, I don't think anything in my house would ever get cleaned or organized.

 (I don't do alphabetical order, or number order anymore.  I just arrange things by size, color, or whatever configuration makes sense and hope I remember the ad hoc file system I just came up with.
If not, at least it is usually color coordinated and has most of the elements of a good art-rhythm, repetition, texture and proportion

----------

it is called neuropsychiatric systemic lupus/ that slipped in when everyone was preoccupied with the rheumatoid arthritis and joints swelling, and being in too much pain to get out of bed.
Now I can get out of bed, but I am never sure what to do after that.

It comes and goes.  Some days I feel or seem normal.  I look normal...which makes it difficult to try to explain myself, especially since one of the biggest losses is in my ability to write, to use words and language.

 It is also complicated by dyslexia, some ADD, and the general disarray that has always wreaked havoc on trying to keep life a little bit predictable...and then we had two daughters, both artists, and my husband just gave up and joined in the chaotic frey.

That's why it's been so quiet around here.
I had a bad flare last Christmas, but it seemed to lift in the spring, so I quit with all the neuro testing, the therapy plans...probably not a good idea in hindsight.

-------------------------

And here are the words I have been avoiding, as if not writing it will make it somehow not true.

Just before Thanksgiving, my brother, my big brother, died, unexpectedly.

and there is no part of that loss or pain that gets lost in that space where everything else goes.
I know every detail, every contour, everything that was there, and now it isn't.

what's left?

Same as always

That One True Thing, the One who was, is, and every shall be

Photo 1 and 2 by Azazelle, HAUNTED HOUSE SET

Last Photo by me, Isabella: Just Haunted Now

Read from some humbler poet...who still heard in his soul the music of wonderful melodies

photo:mine

The Day is Done

 
THE DAY is done, and the darkness     
  Falls from the wings of Night,     
As a feather is wafted downward     
  From an eagle in his flight.     
 
I see the lights of the village            
  Gleam through the rain and the mist,     
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me     
  That my soul cannot resist:     
 
A feeling of sadness and longing,     
  That is not akin to pain,     
And resembles sorrow only     
  As the mist resembles the rain.     
 
Come, read to me some poem,     
  Some simple and heartfelt lay,     
That shall soothe this restless feeling,     
  And banish the thoughts of day.     
 
Not from the grand old masters,     
  Not from the bards sublime,     
Whose distant footsteps echo     
  Through the corridors of Time.     
 
For, like strains of martial music,     
  Their mighty thoughts suggest     
Life's endless toil and endeavor;     
  And to-night I long for rest.     
 
Read from some humbler poet,     
  Whose songs gushed from his heart,     
As showers from the clouds of summer,     
  Or tears from the eyelids start;     
 
Who, through long days of labor,     
  And nights devoid of ease,     
Still heard in his soul the music     
  Of wonderful melodies.     
 
Such songs have power to quiet     
  The restless pulse of care,     
And come like the benediction     
  That follows after prayer.     
 
Then read from the treasured volume     
  The poem of thy choice,     
And lend to the rhyme of the poet     
  The beauty of thy voice.     
 
And the night shall be filled with music,     
  And the cares, that infest the day,     
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,     
  And as silently steal away.



Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This is gonna bring me to my knees....

This is gonna bring me to my knees, I just wanna hold you close to me, originally uploaded by Lacking
Focus.

Lament (Whom will you cry to, heart?)

Whom will you cry to, heart? More and more lonely,
your path struggles on through incomprehensible
mankind. All the more futile perhaps
for keeping to its direction,
keeping on toward the future,
toward what has been lost.

Once. You lamented? What was it? A fallen berry
of jubilation, unripe.
But now the whole tree of my jubilation
is breaking, in the storm it is breaking, my slow
tree of joy.
Loveliest in my invisible
landscape, you that made me more known
to the invisible angels.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Translated by Stephen Mitchell

Remember the weak, you who are strong--you whose home lies beyond the region of thunder, in a land that is always peaceful

Prayer to St. Raphael, Angel of Happy Meetings

O Raphael, lead us towards those we are waiting for, those who are
waiting for us!  Raphael, Angel of Happy Meetings, lead us by the hand
towards those we are looking for!  May all our movements, all their
movements, be guided by your Light and transfigured by your joy.

Angel guide of Tobias, lay the request we now address to you at the feet
of Him on whose unveiled Face you are privileged to gaze.  Lonely and
tired, crushed by the separations and sorrows of earth, we feel the need
of calling to you and of pleading for the protection of your wings, so
that we may not be as strangers in the Province of Joy, all ignorant of
the concerns of our country.

Remember the weak, you who are strong--you whose home lies beyond the
region of thunder, in a land that is always peaceful, always serene, and
bright with the resplendent glory of God.
Amen.

photo:Preah Veaere

The Lifted Veil

 

photo:the lifted veil



from "The Temple Transparent" in The Fragrance of God

by Vigen Guroian

    Behold, I will send my messenger,
and he shall prepare the way before me;
and the Lord, whom ye seek,
shall suddenly come to his temple.
    Malachi 3:1, KJV

"This autumn, after an awful summer drought, the trees blazed in lustrous shades of red and orange, but the flames on their branched candelabras were short lived.
Heavy rains snuffed them out, and cold winds sent the leaves in trembling flocks to an early earthen rest. It brought to mind some lines from Robert Frost:

"The same leaves over and over again!
They fall from giving shade above
To make one texture of faded brown
And fit the earth like a leather glove"

                    ("In Hardwood Groves").

"One November morning, I was perched in a posture of prayer, as at a kneeling rail, on the second-story hall balcony that overlooks the great room of our new
home in Culpeper, Virginia. Out the Palladian window, my eyes followed the mowed path from the unfinished patio down the terraced perennial beds, in which
waved gay plumes of ornamental grass and dried bouquets of goldenrod, on through the vegetable garden, haunted by withered vines and skeleton stalks, into
the meadow, all amber this time of year, and out toward the gray scarf of naked trees and briar thicket that hugs Hungry Run.

"The sun rode low in the east, just high enough, however, to illuminate the wooded hill and pasture on the far side of the stream. The light, as in a Byzantine icon, seemed to issue not from an external source but from within temple walls. I missed this scene last fall. While our home was being built, I dug in dozens of shrubs and perennials and hundreds of spring bulbs on the backyard slope. But I worked late in the day, at sunset, when shadows shrouded the wood and pasture. My wife, June, and I moved in on Holy Week. By then, the daffodils that I had planted were spilling down the bank out back like yellow paint from a tipped-over bucket. And the maple trees were opening their clenched fists and drawing a sylvan veil over the temple sanctuary.

"In late November, the entire Blue Ridge rises transfigured.
As the leaves fall from the trees, the summer veil is lifted,
and darkness is made visible.
Through temples transparent, saints and sinners see into secret earthen sanctuaries.
I am reminded that when Jesus died on the accursed Tree,
the curtain of the Temple tore open,
and the Holy of Holies was shown.

"In late November, Advent begins, and the great Epiphany draws near.
The naked babe, blanketed in supernal light, is the Holy of Holies,
opened to ordinary eyes.
St. Ephrem the Syrian says that

    The Lord of all
    is the treasure store of all things:

    upon each according to his capacity
    He bestows a glimpse

    of the beauty of His hiddenness,
    of the splendor of His majesty.

    Hymns on Paradise, 9:25"

Silence is the language of God. Everything else is a mistranslation

“The heart isn’t interested in knowing. The heart is interested in awareness….Knowing contains within it a very heavy charge of rightness and wrongness. Everything we know has to do with being right and being wrong….
Awareness has nothing to do with being right or wrong. The heart is aware. The mind may or not know that there are people suffering in Ethiopia this minute. But the heart is aware. Always. Of everything.”

“One thing I do want to say; and if this doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, then I’m doing something wrong:
Our Lord never ever asked us to be right. He asked us to be good. And yet we spend 99.9% of our religious lives, and 101% of our political lives trying to be right. Jesus doesn’t mind if we’re right or not. He does mind if we’re good or not.”

“Language. Some language is beautiful, some language is horrid. We have poets in our presence. No one here would deny that some language is very beautiful; but we also know that language can convey the basest, the nastiest, the most vile sentiments that human beings can inflict upon each other. Hatred. Torture.
They’re all based in language.
The mind knows language.
The heart knows silence.”

“St. Maximus the Confessor said something along these lines:

Silence is the language of God. Everything else is a mistranslation.

I’m not here talking about empty silence. But about God-filled silence–the natural silence that exists in you this minute, right now, right here which is available to you whenever you choose to reach out for it. It’s not an empty silence, it’s not
a barren silence or a cold silence, or a dark silence; it is a warm, God-filled, beautiful, expressive silence.
And it resides in your heart all the time. And it doesn’t take much–once you know it’s there–to find it.”

Fr. Meletios

From:Audo Lectures given at 2004 Eagle River Institute

Mind and the Heart in our Spiritual Life

h/t: by the narrow gate

photo:Chair-demost1967 

photo: Madonna-demost1967