Morning funeral mass for Roger at St Paul Shrine, many gathered from all walks and ways of life. Roger was an amiable man. His wife presents a newfound attained wisdom, maturity through loss, growth through suffering. Roger’s passing heightens my Advent season. Roger and his wife shared a love of Spain, visiting my mother’s country three times. It is a pleasant coincidence that yesterday I committed to my mother to join her in a visit to Spain in the first week of June. She strongly desires to attend the wedding of her niece. Together we will make the event happen. Through prayer and reflection, the vacation attains divine dimensions, a proper focus of energy and enthusiasm. Opportunities startle in relevancy. Avila the home of Teresa, St John of the Cross, Montserrat Shrine, Seville, Santiago de Compostela Cathedral, Madrid, St Ignatius, Barcelona, St Alphonsus Rodriguez, Our Lady of the Pines on the Canary Islands, the modernistic La Sagrada Família, and most tender in intimacy Our Lady of Pillar, El Pilar Basilica in my mother’s hometown of Zaragoza, the church my parent’s performed their wedding vows within. Six months provides plenty of time to work on my Spanish. It is intriguing that my employer operates two well-established manufacturing plants in Spain. God willing and providing, a settling in Spain presents itself attractive. On a deeper and spiritual level, an awareness implants itself the Spanish vacation provides healing and a proper deepening of faith. Spanish spirituality is blood deep. The first time I even heard the name St John of the Cross my heart rose in admiration and awareness. I intuitively knew he was important, his presence evolving into the saint I implore for prayers of guidance. Mary will possess a day set apart during the vacation. I will rent a car, driving my mother and myself to Lourdes to visit Our Lady’s shrine. Her brother lives in France, a short drive to the shrine, always willing to visit and pay homage to Our Blessed Mother. A deeper aspect of the anticipated healing is intimate time with my mother. She is at her best amongst her Spanish relatives. To experience her in her country, amongst her people, could prove life changing for both of us.

I spoke with the man of prayer deeply last night, our conversation penetrated deep. Finally the man of prayer concluded saying it is very late I must go. I comprehended how exhausted I was after the lengthy talk. The discussion psychologically centered upon my obsession with Ann, driving matters into my subconscious, naturally alighting upon my relationship with my mother. As Dr Nichta stresses, maybe I am right and maybe I am wrong, it really does not matter, healing, removing internal blockage is what matters. Anyway, accepting the possibility of being wrong, a deep intuition always made me aware something happen when I was an infant, severely damaging my comprehension of love and acceptance. I am convinced it was the assassination of John F. Kennedy. My mother came to the United States in 1961, a Spanish girl of simple upbringing. Her father passed away when she was a toddler, and her mother suffered poor health throughout her life. My mother was raised in a convent with nuns, spending brief periods with family throughout her childhood. Her brother, separated from her, was raised in a St John Bosco orphanage, trained to be a tailor as a growing boy, a soccer hero in my mother’s eyes. My mother’s childhood life was cold and hard. She is deeply Catholic, yet her memory of the nuns is harsh. The religious sisters were callous conducting her formation. My mother came to this country by herself, admitting to me she started suffering severe panic attacks after the assassination of John F. Kennedy. One can easily comprehend the admiration a Spanish Catholic young lady would possess for the handsome Catholic young good looking president of a country she looked to for prosperity and a way of life beyond the poverty she knew as a poor Spanish girl. His brutal death uprooted a tender psychology to say the least. My mother is passionately a follower of politics to this day, a staunch hater of Republicans. My earliest memories recollect my mother stopping everything she was doing at six o’clock in order to watch an hour of local and national news. Her rapt digesting of the broadcasted news could not be interrupted. Us children knew we must be quiet, still in motion, demanding no attention during the news. I was born in July of 1963. John F Kennedy was shot in November of that year. I am absolutely convinced the shooting shaped my subconscious, forming a deep seated sense of rejection, anxiety, and fear. From an infant there was something extremely troubled within my psyche. I am convinced of that, yet like Dr. Nichta stresses it is over and done, nothing to dwell upon, or as St Teresa of Avila stresses: self-knowledge is essential, yet too much self-absorption is immaturely dangerous and selfish. Growth is the element of healing arising through the knowing of my deepest self, the gifting upon a supernatural level of the means able to establish a vessel capable of being filled during prayer. Lord let me know and understand myself in order to love you and my brothers and sisters greater. Regarding my complete overwhelming stagnation with Ann, my obsession with her, I have to understand this fundamental core issue of my psyche. My love for her was pure, that of an authentic religious man. I am convinced God blessed our relationship, offering sign after sign He would pour forth grace upon the consummation of a deeper relationship. However, Ann is a woman unable to love on a higher level. I could not accept the fact. My obsession and refusal to accept her rejection and inadequacies proved obsessive, diametrically opposed to my pursuit of God. I could not concede defeat, therefore manically pursued victory, frustrating and thwarting my spiritual efforts. Involvement with Ann unleashed damaging subconscious frailties, my deepest core vomiting forth sickness lurking within. She was a catalyst exposing internal shortcomings needing attention. I know I can have no exposure to Ann for her spiritual lackings, her emotional immaturity with men are a disease to me, satanic, sheer poison seeking to infect and overwhelm my life.

I was pleased with Roger’s funeral mass today for I was considering, and still discerning, the elimination of St Paul Shrine as my spiritual home. However the mass clearly announced a home is a home. Once again, the awareness presented itself that I must not run away, allowing Ann’s tendency to inflict spiritual competition, pettiness, shallowness, and nonsense upon the practicing of faith as a dominating factor. I have established a solid reputation, exercising a deep contemplative faith at the Shrine. There is no doubt my effort is authentic, possessing a charm and high degree of value. Humbly, I understand others admire my worth as a man of prayer. I will pull back from social activity at the Shrine, removing myself from movie watching and dining in the lobby after mass. I will distance myself from the extern sisters. No more coffee and donuts after Sunday mass. I will enter at the front entrance, involving myself strictly in mass and adoration. The man of prayer advises I concentrate lengthy prayer toward Ann, removing my devastating attachment to her by praying continuously for her, weeks and possibly months in duration. He recommends four Rosaries a day prayed specifically for Ann, stressing that removing her unhealthily spiritual influence from my life is my imperative spiritual mission at this time. In the background, a summer vacation to Spain looms large.