St Stanislaus Cleveland
Driving to Mass this morning through the Cleveland inner-city, an overwhelming sense of compassion for the world worked upon me. I opted for Mass at St Stanislaus. The noon Mass and powerful Saturday afternoon Holy Hour, communal prayer, at St Paul Shrine lovingly missed as a call to enjoy ice skating with the significant other and her niece beckoned forth. I slept in too late for Mass at St Dominic, another wonderful weekly Holy Hour conducted afterwards, and also the very early Mass at Sacred Heart, followed by the men’s meeting. I have not made the men’s meeting since Easter, vowing a return, while keeping the men in my prayers. With England’s vote to secede from the European Union settling within consciousness, aware of such tumultuous change gradually overtaking the world, I felt helpless, reposing into the confirmation to avoid opinions while being a very opinionated man. I will say I was proud of my adopted city of Cleveland in regards to the celebration of the NBA championship brought home by the Cavaliers. An estimated 1.3 million people gathered downtown to cheer on the sports victory and the spontaneous event went off virtually without incident. I was close to the festivities, never witnessing the parade, yet a sense of joy filled the eastside of Cleveland. That morning I assisted an inner-city woman struggling with mobility and health install an air conditioner in her home. She had her large screen television broadcasting the revelry happening downtown. Her elderly gentleman friend stopped by and the three of us talked basketball and sports while I managed to get her air conditioner mounted and working. It was then onto Mass at St Paul Shrine and more witnessing of people everywhere celebrating the Cavs championship. The public transportation system was free that day—a buzz filled the air. The significant other lives along the rapid transit train line and the crowd of people gathered at the picturesque train stations were plentiful, joyful, and peaceful. It truly was a ‘lovefest’ as a coworker of mine called the happening. She took the day off, taking photos with her phone as she was positioned at the Indians baseball stadium, experiencing everything intimately. The city will host the Republican National Convention in the upcoming weeks. Let’s pray the event also proves peaceful. During my after-Mass prayers at St Stanislaus, the image of Jesus resting in the tomb, the photo posted many months ago, played upon my mind. My post title, pointing toward Modern thought, today arises from the meditations. During the Easter season of 2015, the statue of ‘Jesus buried’ served as a Holy Week focus of meditation. Lord we truly need your resurrected and glorified presence pronouncedly evident. In a frenzied, self-conscious, chaotic world surpressed by noise how are lost ones ever going to hear your soft gentle voice. Please do not let the world think You are dead. Have mercy on us Lord. Please do not abandon those who abandon You. Change ever present, surroundings driving madly and bitterly away from the historic church, observing the once proud Polish neighborhood suffering dilapidation, struck by the fact there were only a handful of elderly worshippers at Mass, recalling a comment regarding Europe’s huge magnificent Cathedrals and churches all being empty, a vacant sadness revealed itself, the reality the world would never acquiesce to the will of God mercilessly touched my mind. My heart resolved upon fortitude, perseverance, and strength. Tomorrow will be a special day free from work, eventful and focused. This weekend is the two year anniversary of the Rescuerer retrieving me from that brutal hotel room in Toledo. Tomorrow the event will be honored by attending a Calix meeting at St Vincent Medical Center in downtown Cleveland, reacquainting myself with the high profile lawyer and his gang of plenty who did so much for me. I truly have been looking forward to the morning mass, breakfast, and lead meeting for some time. I will be proud to introduce the significant other. After the eventful morning, the two of us will venture to the Rocky River Reservation in order to participate in recreational kayaking, able to paddle out to Lake Erie. The nature excursion will be followed by a short drive to Bellevue, Ohio in order to attend a healing Mass at the Sorrowful Mother Shrine, an event honoring Ephphatha Sunday. Then ending everything with a dinner at a favorite Italian restaurant, Buca de Beppo, a national chain establishment on the west side. I love the conglomeration of black and white Italian images posted on every inch of the walls. There is nowhere you can look that you are not assaulted by photos of Italian life. It is fun. The relaxing tone inspires me to post a song from Toco, a Brazilian guitar player now residing in Italy. The man has me mesmerized with his music, causing me to listen to his recording over and over.
“Memoria” is an album about my memories, my hometown, the scent and flavours of my childhood, things Iʼve read, movies Iʼve watched at the cinema and my love for music. Itʼs about going back home, re-establishing a link with the past and recalling cheerful and happy memories. “Memoria” refers specifically to the regions of Minais Gerais and the Brazilian northeast, its hot climate, the religiousness of the people and its faith in miracles, calling to mind images of mysterious and surreal popular tales, where time flows slowly in an intimate dimension.
