God’s Will: where I am, is exactly where I need to be.

The victory of suffering from ‘All We Know of Heaven’, wisdom within bedtime reading—the ultimate story of the Son of God: the Triumph of Weakness, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Antoine observes a visiting Tibetan abbess smash crabapples with her heel into the earth. She, the Venerable Cello–spiritual mother to over six thousand nuns, feeds herself with the dirty created mush. The simple religious woman entered the Cistercian monastery with a group of visiting Tibetan monks. The Trappist were unaware she was a woman until her nickname, Cello, was explained. The holy woman, saying over a thousand rosaries a day, is an immense survivor. When the Chinese occupied Tibet she fled through the Himalayas with thirty of her religious sisters. Only three would survive the mountainous trek. With respect to her gender, she was removed from the Catholic monastery, placed in the guesthouse. Antoine worried she would be insulted. The other Tibetan monks laughed at his concern, expressing the fact Cello would contently sleep upon the sidewalk if asked.

As sunlight drew away from the orchard, it came to him (Antoine), the thread that bound their lives together. Cello was abandoned by society. She was marginal. The abbess was as defenseless and as irrelevant to the world as an orphan. And as a monk, so was he.

The experience of many days clicked into a clear order in his head. Antoine saw before him a Cello who had survived immense suffering in the Himalayas to offer a living witness to anyone interested: nothing less than the reversal of world order. As weak as she was—as weak as all humans are—Cello was fully awake. The wisdom of peace was hers, an old woman grounded in “suchness,” her smile shining through all things and meeting no opposition.

He (Antoine) saw that his own behavior was to blame for his sour discontent. His growth as a monk had been checked by his own longing for a better place to live, better people to live with.

Marginalized, yet dignified–magnificence within poverty and worldly exile.

Jun252015

Spiritual Direction

We read in the Chronicles of St Francis, that a secular asked a good religious, why St John Baptist, having been sanctified in his mother’s womb, should retire to the desert, and lead there such a penitential life as he did. The good religious answered him, by first asking this question: pray why do we throw salt upon meat that is fresh and good? To keep it the better, and to hinder it from corruption, replied the other. The very same answer I give you, says the religious, concerning the Baptist; he made use of penance as of salt, to preserve his sanctity from the least corruption of sin as holy Church sings of him, “that purity of his life might not be tarnished with the least breath.” Now, if in time of peace, and when we have no temptation to fight against, it is very useful to exercise our bodies by penance and mortification, with how much more reason ought we do so in time of war, when encompassed with enemies on all side? St Thomas, following Aristotle’s opinion, says that the word chastity is derived from “chastise,” inasmuch as by chastising the body we subdue the vice opposite to chastity; and also adds, that the vices of the flesh are like children, who must be whipped into their duty, since they cannot be led to it by reason. –St Alphonsus Rodriguez ‘The Practice of Christian and Religious Perfection’.

Chastise: 1. To discipline, especially by corporal punishment. 2. To criticize severely. 3. Archaic to restrain; chasten. 4. Archaic. To refine; purify.

St Alphonsus Rodriguez writes guidance for the religious, yet I find his harsh, demanding perspective practical in contemplative pursuits as a layperson, while also touching upon a consideration into living a fully consecrated life. We are either fully in, or we are out. No dabbling. This is not a game of casualness, times of allowing explorations into the secular and nonreligious without salting ourselves. If we are not fully in, we must respect those fully in. Consideration and kindness are deeper than being casual and brash. Defenses must be up, ramparts in place, when journeying through life. I am reading a novel, ‘All We Know of Heaven” by Remy Rougeau, a Canadian Benedictine monk writing about a nineteen year old entering a Cistercian monastery. The novel captures me with its concise matter-of-fact, drab delivery; a boringness to the entire endeavor that pleases. Brutally honest realism, I suppose, with respect to Thomas Merton’s ‘Seven Story Mountain’. Poignantly ironic, I find the work of fiction realistic, and the biography delusional. In the novel there is not an underlying need for the author to establish himself as a recognized intellectual, an academic authority, a pop culture religious/literary celebrity. This is simply a monk telling a simple story. There is no great exploration of larger than life ideals, no religious history, nor romanticizing through flowery language, no desiring to expose the mystical and supernatural (a criticism I should consider reflectively), no tendency toward psychological self-absorbing introspections, no exposing of one’s inner-most being, no long sentences—saying so many things in a quick spewing. It is a simple realistic view into the occurrences within the life of a young man entering a Canadian Trappist monastery. Ordinary, yet set apart, an original thing in the world. Things can be defined by what they are not. “He walked into the house (his parent’s home after a week at the monastery) and felt as though he had returned from a foreign country; the television seemed a very odd contraption.”

No time, and thoughts are not coming out. I was aiming for the idea that God did not sacrifice His Son over two thousand years ago, and aside from the Church, basically disappear from the ways of man accidently. A God of order, there is a divine plan in place. It is difficult, demanding penance, mortification, and dedication, obviously trust and confidence, as well as obedience and surrender, the following of the ways of the Church if serious depth is to be achieved. Within and through the ordinary, the boring and mundane, we come into actualization, yet the process is difficult, the ways of the saints rigorous, brutal, and nearly impossible in regards to application. Divine assistance please subtly abide. The extraordinary existing within the ordinary takes a fine process of revealing; romantic traps, emotional enticements, egotistical needs, the desire for intellectual gratification, artistic expression, boredom, and the flesh are always posed for a gradual or immediate devouring. Not sure I am pleased with this entry, struggling personally with respect to perfection and longing for Ann–some days are difficult, yet never will I fully concede defeat, for as St Liguori teaches, the greatest defeat is to lose hope. My friend with the Catholic bookstore has a sign above her front door, above a holy water dispenser, ‘All yee who enter, abandon despair’. Always through faith, hope, charity and GRADUALNESS within fortitude, perseverance, and understanding–‘gratefulness for progress achieved’ maintained as a driving force, I move forward. To dabble or sit casually still is to die. The sitting still must be done with precise purpose, adorably and prayerfully in the presence of the Eucharist. Dentist appointment this morning, natural world calls, salting performed.

Our Lady of the Pines retreat

Sometimes God is quick to the call. This morning amidst sunshine, my secret garden providing pleasure upon a walk, a call from Our Lady of Pines in Fremont, Ohio established a retreat for my off week following the celebration of a nation’s independence on July the 4^th. The conversation effused from surrounding ambiance, men thinning out neighboring trees–deconstructing a small forest, attention to individual trees fallen, a toddler following the example of his sister exploring spraying fountains of water wonder, dogs leashed and walking, children enjoying tennis lessons, and for me a religious sister edifying, informing me there was a week of spiritual direction scheduled for the week I inquired upon. I love when within conversation words pour forth. The task being the containing rather than the thinking. She tells she is going to set-up a special dormitory room for me. She promises I will love it. The week of spiritual direction has been planned for some time, all sisters conducting the directing. The week will be a focus upon individuals revealing God’s plans for them through silence, reflection, and counsel. There seems to be a concentration upon feminine spirituality, although the sister says not to fear, recognizing a difference between men and woman pursuing faith. We determined spiritual direction for me will be conducted upon exploration. The idea of me exploring a private retreat amongst the conductors of the spiritual directing week concretized. That week there is a priest conducting a private retreat. She is going to speak to him about spending time with me. Thy will be done. I am excited. Speculating, I anticipate a near dozen sisters with thirty-two retreatants. Walking at Cain Park, excitement blossomed. Hopefully sounding strange, an artist whose work I have been viewing online inspired a vision, a visualization, colorful flowers bursting forth in a river from my heart was the expression of joy I felt upon a week of spiritual concentration. The writing, ‘Man Tower’, picked up this morning. Possibly, properly, alignment allowing, serious work can be conducted during my week at Our Lady of the Pines. Some images I provide, allowing imaginative touching upon the story, black and whites from Ingmar Bergman’s ‘The Seventh Seal’, a cherished movie in my realm of influences. The photos of the traveling carnival family paying tribute to a vacationing Romanian family very dear and close to my heart.

The wonderful circus family, inspiration to Gabriel, Calin, and Lavinia. Acrobat Jof, holding his son, is a dreamer, a lover of life, a circus performer, a writer of songs and poems, a tumbler extraordinaire, a man who is so in love with the idea of visions he is continually making them up. The only problem is when he finally does have a vision of Our Holy Mother, his wife only laughs, loving him even more for all the visions he details. Acrobat Jof is not dismayed, only desiring to sing an unfinished song and enjoy his son. The world-weary squire, Jons, demonstrating his humor and penetrating insight, comments upon one who turned out to be a corpse. Antonius Block, the Templar Knight, chess combatant to the grim reaper, sent his quick-witted squire to question a man seated upon the beach. Encountering the seated one, the squire confronted a skeleton.
A wonderful medieval song and dance performance by Acrobat Jof and his wife Mia is interrupted in this video clip by a doomsday procession singing Dies Irea (coincidentally enough a poem credited to Thomas of Celano). In the opening of ‘Man Tower’, the procession following the debauchery of the child bishop being marched through the streets of Assisi, an actual medieval tradition of drunken excess the church would eventually ban, is based upon the procession in Bergman’s film. I wish there were subtitles for the fire and brimstone sermon–the fiery words point to the Black Plague as a curse from God for the wicked ways of man. Repent NOW the message. I am intrigued by Bergman’s cinematic effect of having the end times spiritual marauders vanishing from the earth, their chanting continuing.

May092015

Recovery reflection

Reflective day. I want to sort through my thoughts by writing them down. I was supposed to move today, yet I just simply did not have the physical or emotional energy. Work has been difficult the past week, hot and physically demanding—long hours and hard dirty work. I was exhausted punching out today. Adhering to routine, I headed for downtown: immediately to the Eucharist for adoration, then mass, and exploring Cleveland streets. During adoration, with no serious sadness, I erupted in tears before the Eucharist, crying whole hearted, contemplatively and cleansing. One of the Poor Clares was moving about as a ghost, passing between the order’s cloistered pews and into what I speculate is a private chapel for communal prayer. Father Roger, one of the extern sisters, along with a gentleman blossoming into a friend were speaking softly as I entered. All eyes cast my way. I said nothing. They said nothing. I nodded my head. Sister Clare Marie waved and Father Roger smiled. I commenced into prayer. I am not sure how and when, yet they all departed, leaving me alone with the Eucharist and one of the sisters stealthily moving about. The Poor Clares home has become my home, peace comes, and yet today so did strong tears. I am not sure if Dennis took note, yet after some time he came out casually making his way to me. Conversation with him is strenuous, awkward, due to his speech impediment. I know he finds it uncomfortable to speak, preferring silence. He wanted to discuss the offer I made to supply food for the after Sunday mass gathering, outlining possibilities, asking me not to bring anything this week as they had plenty, and the fact Father Sam had a birthday celebration the twenty-fourth. His suggestion was that would be a good day for something special. Earlier in the week, Sister Clare Marie touched me by the fact she has no knowledge of Brie cheese. Being from India, she never tried, nor even heard of the cheese. I want her to try the cheese with respect to its monastic origins, and association with the court of King Charlemagne. I am positive a well arraigned serving tray centered round French bread, brie cheese, assorted vegetables: English cucumbers, sliced avocadoes, red bell peppers, mini-carrots, and green onions; along with a quality pasta and potato salad would be proper and light fare for the fifteen or so people who gather, possibly more for Father Sam’s birthday. The conversation soothed my melancholy as the sisters launched into their mid-afternoon prayers behind sanctuary walls. On into mass at the cathedral, where something of note should be registered. During mass, melancholy returned. During the extending of peace, a stout teenage girl turned to shake my hand. Her family all turned to greet me, however once she faced me the twelve years old’s bright spirit and strong, serious, genuine square face caught me off guard. Rosy cheeked, she beamed, radiating sheer joy and enthusiasm, absolute beauty and innocence. Uncontrollably, yet subtly, I broke into tears, casting my eyes downward. Embarrassed, doing everything to avoid dramatics, knowing what was happening was authentic, I continued on, and gracefully everything surrounding advanced appropriately for me to gather myself and remain hidden. Moving on to Cleveland streets, the flocking crowd held nothing for me today. There were no clever words for the Romanian waitress working at the Vietnamese restaurant. I departed downtown quickly, heading for the suburbs and Mother’s Day shopping. Staying only two months at my latest residence, it is more difficult to leave than I anticipated. I know I am doing the right thing. Confidence and proper discretion guide, yet there are so many changes occurring. Turning the focus to recovery–recognizing a year of sobriety approaches, arriving in June—an integral part of the changes involves being asked to give a lead at a special monthly AA meeting, Calix, in July, the month of my birthday. Overall, the role of AA in my life is being examined. I have determined I will turn the offer to tell my story down. I will not share my experience, strength, and hope. I spoke with my therapist/spiritual director yesterday, and realized I should have discussed the matter with him. I will before officially negating the request. It is an honor to lead the meeting. I am surprised they asked, yet I am not comfortable with the spiritual aspects. I did discuss with my therapist the fact I will be curtailing my activities with AA. There are many reasons and it is well thought out. Everything written before points to this. I have been intimately involved with AA for over ten years, and I am, confident in comprehending, embracing, and admiring AA’s message. I will also make the statement, and I made it to my therapist who closely examined and questioned my words, that a concrete awareness has centered in my being that I will never drink again. I will never take another drink of alcohol. I cannot. It is a vow I extend to Christ, pleading with the Holy Spirit to guide, bowing to God the Father in silence, knowing under all circumstances Mary watches over me, guiding and instructing my guardian angel. The reality grows more acute daily. There is no need for justification, criticism, announcements, proclamations, or over-explanations. A huge part of the changes in my life will be breaking from the group of people I have worked with four times a week for well over six months. It is a wonderful locale, in the quaint small town of Olmsted Falls. This evening I even walked around the historic railroad depot, shopping, ice cream, and riverside park. Pleasant and quiet time of walking prayer. With thorough gratitude, it is time to move forward. I am conformable with my changing involvement in AA, discerning proper signs, lacking definitude. Yet I also felt the need to postpone the move for a week. I will board with a gentleman, and his future son-in-law, involved in the program for decades, intelligent and interesting, having giving up the insurance business in order to return to his call as a Presbyterian minister, employed with a local hospice. I will allow the Holy Spirit to guide regarding my new role in AA. My housing host supports me, also providing respectful space, while declaring that my living there is predicated upon absolute abstinence. I know exactly what I seek from AA: fellowship, a clear unadulterated message, and vivid reminders of the devastation alcohol plays in the lives of those unable to successfully imbibe. AA is practical, touching on the spiritual and psychological, while remaining distant from personal spiritual guidance. Friends are essential. My weekly basketball games are huge, vital to my sanity. My prayers are filled with hope for an expanding social life. Acquiescing to divine will, I allow patience to shape my coming days. I post the first reading from Sunday, the sixth Sunday of Easter. The words from Acts chapter 10 correlate to a discussion with a friend before the Eucharist at St Paul’s:

Then Peter (first Pope) proceeded to speak and said, “In truth, I see that God shows no partiality. Rather, in every nation whoever fears him and acts uprightly is acceptable to him.” While Peter was still speaking these things, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who were listening to the word. The circumcised believers who had accompanied Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit should have been poured out on the Gentiles also, for they could hear them speaking in tongues and glorifying God. Then Peter responded, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people, who have received the Holy Spirit even as we have?” He ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.

Apr222015

Love

I am going to insistent upon exploring to the minutest detail the complications with my former spiritual partner. It all has to do with love. The further I go the more convinced I am correct in everything I do with her. She has been hard and demanding on me and now in return, through absolute love, I return the favor. The love she offered, indifference actually, she defines as Godly, a love away from the perverted love my mother offered. Her indifference is a love on the level God loves. God is pure love, above the emotional, selfish, sappy, crap I approach her with. I have no idea how to love, thus it was her spiritual responsibility to reshape my distorted opinions on love. Lacking emotion, getting absolutely nothing from me, in fact not even liking me as a person, at times stating she despised me, she was confident in her approach as a spiritual superior that she was capable of battering me with a higher love, pummeling me with harsh conditions, conversation, and ideas in order to reshape my understanding of a deeper love. She would scream how if I wanted to leave her there were others who would receive her graces. She views her interactions with others as an opportunity for those she chooses to encounter to receive blessings. Those fortunate to receive her attention are capable of garnering special favors from God. Where in scripture Matthew tells us that where two or three of us are gathered in His name, there He is, she discerns that due to her spiritual superiority she is the one bringing the graces to holy gatherings. Disrespecting me, screaming at me, intentionally hurting me when she sensed romantic feelings flowering within me, stating to me she was in love romantically with various other men, telling me she was dating, she did everything she could to rattle me. Hurting me allowed me opportunity for growth and graces. I had to accept and endure. She believed in me, while feeling absolutely nothing for me. My love for her only grew. This must read dramatic, insane even, yet it is truth, a lived reality. It must be understood the woman is remarkably intelligent, spiritually insightful, responsible in every regard, detail oriented in life, positive attributes flow from her. Miracles occurred in my life during my interaction with her. Her positive attributes, my love for her, and above all God’s blessings produced phenomenal results. However now that maturity has been firmly established within my life a new playing field is presented. New ways dictate further growth. Love needs further defining, and I am positive my concept of love is the correct one. I want her to know my love. Her concept of love is her spiritual downfall. The more I saw it, the more signs poured in that her accepting of a romantic love between us was fundamental to her spiritual growth, the deeper in love I fell. I am in love with her as I comprehend that love is healing for both of us. It is not a selfish endeavor. The love I offer is Godly in the sense it provides healing for both of us, while guiding toward a greater mutual unification in Christ. Three in one—through, with, and in as a couple we merge with Christ, the sacrament of marriage approached on the deepest level. I saw all this. I knew all of this. However she had to accept all of this. I will never cease in my love. Everything is too clearly laid out before me. Where she turns to self-will and self-defense in protecting herself from a deeper love, I open my heart, becoming vulnerable, becoming weak, allowing God to witness me offering my heart in faith, hope, and charity to another. Where she shuns emotion and passion, I point to the Song of Songs and observe God embrace these very powerful ideas. I know cloistered men and women, St Bernard of Clairvaux leading, adore the poem of passion play between lovers. Love is all about emotion and passion. Her sense of indifference and scoffing at emotion is not a higher love, but a lesser love of defense and manipulation. Self-will crushing Divine Will. All these truths are so apparent, yet if she rejects them what am I to do? Heartbroken, I move forward the best I can. Overwhelmed, sadness becomes a reality. To love on the highest level does not allow you to walk away as if nothing matters, turning to others, moving away as if nothing of consequence happened. Everything happened. The passion play God desires to enrapture our lives within has been extinguished before it could ever truly be started. Everything must mean something, for if it does not then where is the hope and love? If indifference and hardness rule at its best shallowness and superficiality are achieved. At its worst frustration, fear, hatred and other psychological dilemmas are created. Disorder builds upon disorder. Spiritual masters may become so immersed within such a powerful and overwhelming love for God that indifference becomes their predisposition toward all things worldly, however for those of us who are not spiritual masters I think indifference is a sign of brokenness. I am confident that throughout my life, I have not encountered a single lay person who is a spiritual master. Any lay person who offers indifference to their brothers and sisters under the guise of a higher love must be treated kindly, yet with great caution. Odds are astronomical that is a person who has wreaked havoc in the lives of others throughout his or her life.

Apr222015

Quick hit for the skies and a dedicated clip from Song of Songs

Return flight home lots of turbulence landing and flying over Lake Erie. Loved it. What have I been missing all of these years never flying. I want to fly over the Rockies. A west coast pilgrimage will be sought. The Cistercian monastery Abbey of Our Lady of the Holy Trinity in Huntsville, Utah comes quickly to mind. Another is the Colordado mountain Trappist retreat provided by St Benedict’s Monastery, the home of Father Thomas Keating. My immediate and intense attraction to flying makes me think I should have considered being a pilot. My mother would have never let it happen.

Song of Songs for Ann Marie Najjar, for everything she has done for me.

Come with me from Lebanon, my bride; come with me from Lebanon.
…from the dens of lions, from the mountains of leopards.
You have ravished my heart, my sister, my bride,
You have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes,
With one jewel of your necklace (rosary).
How sweet is your love, my sister, my bride!
How much better is your love than wine,

Apr202015

An airplane flight and important words from Henry Suso

I discovered a new passion today. Flying is wonderful. At fifty, I have never flown. I found the experience exhilarating. Wonderful.

I want to preface this quote from Henry Suso’s ‘The Exemplar: The Life of the Servant’ with the comment it is important, words to consider deeply. Take them slow.

…Brother John, showed him in a vision the delightful beauty by which his soul had been transfigured. From him also the servant begged for the answer to a question. This was: Which of all the exercises was the one that caused a person the most hardship and was most useful? He received the answer that nothing was more painful and profitable for a person that for him, with an attitude of detachment, to go out from God with patience toward himself and thus leave God for the sake of God.

Let’s repeat that ending. …leave God for the sake of God.

For the sake of internal cleansing, a feat complex in proper doing, can I forget about God and focus upon myself. Avoiding selfishness and self-absorption, concentrating upon weaknesses, psychological frailties, personal shortcomings, character defects can I abandon self-righteous conduct and thoughts focused upon God and look sternly in the mirror? With the assistance of qualified others can I conduct painful insightful self-examination? Is a personal inventory more important than personal glorification in God?

Humbly and honestly, I feel gifted with a strong prayer life, yet I realize psychological conditions, worldly matters cannot be left behind during prayer. I cannot escape into God in order to ignore myself. It is not proper to pray devotedly while not growing as a man. My former spiritual partner stressed to me Aquinas thought that grace builds upon nature. I am going through an intensely emotional and troubling time with that former spiritual partner. As much as she has done for me, we are absolutely destroying each other right now. It was so difficult to go into prayer today. During the plane ride, I observed the marvel of seeing the skies for the first time from above. The sights filled me with awe and wonder, intensifying my love for God. I love flying. However through the splendor of high flying, while praying the Rosary, Divine Mercy, and holding silence, my head felt like it was going to split from the stress and pressure that overwhelms my life. Lack of sleep troubling horribly today. Necessary actions hurt. My eyes had trouble focusing, my whole sense of being is discombobulated, disjointed, and off kilter. I despise it, however it must be endured, passed through and properly dealt with. Aggressive, I seek solutions. I love on a deep and passionate level, taking the Song of Songs serious. I remember leaving the friary how intensely Father David Mary and myself fought. Like lions fighting over a fresh kill, we tore at each other. I am not saying it is right. It is human and the way we encountered. Neither of us being truly a bad guy. We were two men of God absolutely in collusion–I use that word specifically Collusion defined:a secret agreement, especially for fraudulent or treacherous purposes; conspiracy and Law. a secret understanding between two or more persons to gain something illegally, to defraud another of his or her rights, or to appear as adversaries though in agreement: example collusion of husband and wife to obtain a divorce. There is so much more to it than just circumstances with Father David Mary, myself and the former spiritual partner: Subconscious issues from individual lives. Mine: a life of severe alcoholism, parental issues, and intimate relationship issues. Father David Mary a volatile blue collar New York City upbringing. We must be so careful when interacting with each other in a deeply spiritual manner. I saw it in the friary so piercingly. We are vulnerable in a brutally damaging way when we open ourselves spiritually to one another. I am positive the majority of people trying to guide others do as much damage as good. Unfortunately, the damage usurps the good. True teachers are few and far between. That includes myself!!! Be careful, kind and tender with one another’s souls. This is no game. Can we leave God in order to allow others to move closer to God? I remember homily words from a priest: be careful when you are crowding around the tabernacle that your greatest achievement is not blocking others from the Eucharist.

Can I abandon evangelizing in order to grow interiorly? Can I forsake being a Bible scholar, a recognized knowledgeable man of scripture, in order to allow scripture to penetrate those things that block me from Christ? Can I detach from my religious reputation in order to strengthen humility and understand myself better? Do I cling to the idea of being a spiritual superior over reducing my pride in order to draw closer to God? Do I see myself as a provider of graces for others, rather than an honest sharing equal to my brother and sisters in Christ? Can I disown seeing myself as a spiritual director in order to cleanse my fleshly vessel? Can I quit the idea of giving others advice how to properly follow Christ in order to purify the temple of my body? Can I stay silent when others ramble about spiritual matters? Do I see myself as a teacher amongst others rather than servant of Christ? Do I judge and use God as a weapon to bolster myself? Can I remain hidden, focusing upon my devotion to Mary, relying upon Her assistance in approaching Her Son, rather than being a clanging gong? Do I allow Mary to dispense graces? Do I use religion to elevate my self-esteem? Can I quietly receive communion, absolutely absorbed within the presence entering my body, avoiding self-consciousness, thoughts of God and Holy matters? Can I sit before the Eucharist quiet and still.

…leave God for the sake of God.

Catholic Contemplative Life

A journey of recovery within Christ and His Church

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