Attended Mass today at St Ann’s, also known as Communion of Saints.  It is the first time I have been inside the Church even though it is a short distance from my home.  I was steered away from the Church by a former conservative friend, warning against their liberal policies, their wandering away from the traditions of Catholicism.  Expanding and enveloping, I was touched to be deeply moved by a Sorrowful Mother and Sacred Heart of Jesus devotional room set off the Cedar Road entrance.   My heart melted, photos a must.  During Mass with an impressionable young priest, a charming young man, awkward and unorthodox a bit, I found myself enamored with him, admiring his bravery in donning the collar.  He is deeply in my prayers. I am going to cut this short. Just finished a lengthy impromptu conversation with my neighbor, Carter’s neighbor.  I intended to say more, embracing the idea of moving away from religious pursuits that cross over to fanaticism, unable to broaden personal horizons, stagnating in attempts to be superior in faith.  The porch sitting has been nice, the neighbor entertaining—exploring ideas of salsa dancing which the significant other and I will do this Saturday at Nazca.  The friendly personable neighbor accentuates the idea of making an offer to Carter regarding the sale of his home.  The photos of St Ann’s speak for themselves.

An interesting post St Paul Shrine Mass brunch in Tremont at the Treehouse today.  A friend organized the gathering, pulling together a wonderful assortment of people.  The significant other accompanied.  It seemed relevant the attending was all highly educated.  The Cuban poet—a political science professor, her husband a medical doctor currently teaching and conducting research associated with the Cleveland Clinic, a high-school teacher who went onto to complete a doctorate in I am not sure what area of study, a Franciscan Friar who will attain a PHD in Information Systems—a unique friar working with the Federal Government and CIA in combating human trafficking and terrorism, and a Taiwanese man working on a doctorate in music—the singer of operatic Latin during Mass.  It all coalesces nicely with the idea of moving away from the lunatic fringe element of faith worshipers, residing and befriending those able to interact on a healthy social level.  In fact, I perceive myself growing, refining an abrasive personality that can be confronting.  The significant other is a tremendous socializer, instantly befriended by this bunch of fascinating people.  I sat in silence for a majority of the brunch, charmed by the polite and informative nature of conversation.  Everyone waited their turn to speak, granting the speaker full attention, listening central to interacting.  I credit the Cuban poet for much of the mature social interaction as she conducts a group as if she is holding class, inquiring, guiding others into speaking about themselves.  She insistent upon a lack of dominating conversation, eliminating side conversation in order to focus the group singularly upon a subject.  Credibility is maintained by unwarranted comments being investigated, and narcissistic self-serving comments being dismissed.  A mature endeavor is established.  The significant other mentioned a return to school for myself, yet I feel I am too old.  I must admit a severe disappointment in my last employment position, while experiencing incredible invigoration, spiritually and intellectually, by the theatrical weekend in Chillicothe.  Last night, we attended another performance of Macbeth, discovering the performance while exploring the internet.  I was researching and reading about an Ohio Shakespeare troupe when I realized they were performing Macbeth just to the south in Akron this very weekend, an outside performance at the Stan Hywet gardens.  I wanted to see another rendition as the Chillicothe performance disturbed, convinced they missed something essential.  The over-emphasis on the role of the three witches, young actresses delighting in the supernatural extravaganza of portraying evil did not set right.  The witches appeared throughout the play, always present and dancing about in a frenzy.  It was not true to Shakespeare.  The witches were malformed woman, denizens of misery trapped in a deplorable state, humans convicted to evil due to evil deeds—misfortunate consequences rendered.  They were not alluring, ubiquitous, and all powerful as the young actresses presented them.  The witches could only prophesize, tempt, and present possibilities.  Human nature and free-will determined significance.  Shakespeare intended them to appear only three times—not to be dancing about characters as they mused, or seen separate from the action, controlling and influencing.  Human choices determined fate.  Anyway, I felt the more professional, more accurately arraigned performance by the Ohio Shakespeare troupe proved my insight correct.   In defense of the Chillicothe troupe, their Shakespeare was an addendum to their superb performance of Tecumseh, a side-project for serious acting young adults to explore possibilities.  Busy day today, finish with a reading from Mass, the concluding of St Paul’s epistle to the Hebrews.

So strengthen your drooping hands and your weak knees. Make straight paths for your feet, that what is lame may not be disjointed but healed.