Poetry

T.S. Eliot more of the ‘Four Quartets’

III

O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,
The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant,
The captains, merchant bankers, eminent men of letters,
The generous patrons of art, the statesmen and the rulers,
Distinguished civil servants, chairmen of many committees,
Industrial lords and petty contractors, all go into the dark,
And dark the Sun and Moon, and the Almanach de Gotha
And the Stock Exchange Gazette, the Directory of Directors,
And cold the sense and lost the motive of action.
And we all go with them, into the silent funeral,
Nobody’s funeral, for there is no one to bury.
I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away-
Or as, when an underground train, in the tube, stops too long between stations
And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence
And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deepen
Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about;
Or when, under ether, the mind is conscious but conscious of nothing-
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

You say I am repeating
Something I have said before. I shall say it again.
Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstacy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.

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Discorded Affections

At times immense viewing, I feel my father breathing through my eyes,
Discontent, malcontent. A washed in the misery of a moment. Creation surrounding.
A sunrise upon a snowy morning, brushed pruinose trees, squirrels anxious to feed,
Beauty transfixed. All is good. Moral theology. The Creator and creatures.
Locked within amentia, descending, replicating back, my father’s father’s father’s….unsatisfied. Demented, sadness, loving, profoundly feeling individuality.
Are you satisfied screaming unsatisfied demands, insisting upon insisting, frustrated, perplexed, muscles sore from aching, trying so awfully hard at everything,
Tumbling weed, inexorably breathe, desiring conceive, the foundational underpinnings, impossible dreams,
Anchors away, batten down the hatches, notch by notch, minute by minute, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,
The wind blowing through the branches, flittering, fluttering, song birds singing, a rabbit nesting, the sound of a soft splash unseen, distant waters reflecting,
Lacking love, achromic, black and white fading into a devastating grey, emotionally longing lustfully, wanting nothing more for nothing more calls in upon itself, the quietest moments preoccupations bore, wanting to give it all away for lasting peace,
An exchange, a word, the word, loganamnosis, unheard, momentary reverberations, knowing the possessed, the gifts received at birth, the Creator perceived.
Nothing understood, action remains unrequiting. An unprofitable servant, serving one’s self, ungratefulness.
Guilt, shame, repressed, unequivocally slothful in repose, unable to accomplish generational insufficiencies, momentary, flashes of truth, flashes of pain,
A dove alighting, a crow never returning, a black stallion, a white mare, a charioteer, a romance, the Divine courting, unconditionally calling,
‘Lord, are you near?’
‘I AM, my dear.’
‘Do you really love me?’
‘Do you love the squirrels? Ten fold and a thousand times more.’
Eternal laughter, tears, a knowing, aware…

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A piece of the ‘Four Quartets’ T.S. Eliot

III

Here is a place of disaffection
Time before and time after
In a dim light: neither daylight
Investing form with lucid stillness
Turning shadow into transient beauty
Wtih slow rotation suggesting permanence
Nor darkness to purify the soul
Emptying the sensual with deprivation
Cleansing affection from the temporal.
Neither plentitude nor vacancy. Only a flicker
Over the strained time-ridden faces
Distracted from distraction by distraction
Filled with fancies and empty of meaning
Tumid apathy with no concentration
Men and bits of paper, whirled by the cold wind
That blows before and after time,
Wind in and out of unwholesome lungs
Time before and time after.
Eructation of unhealthy souls
Into the faded air, the torpid
Driven on the wind that sweeps the gloomy hills of London,
Hampstead and Clerkenwell, Campden and Putney,
Highgate, Primrose and Ludgate. Not here
Not here the darkness, in this twittering world.

Descend lower, descend only
Into the world of perpetual solitude,
World not world, but that which is not world,
Internal darkness, deprivation
And destitution of all property,
Dessication of the world of sense,
Evacuation of the world of fancy,
Inoperancy of the world of spirit;
This is the one way, and the other
Is the same, not in movement
But abstention from movememnt; while the world moves
In appetency, on its metalled ways
Of time past and time future.

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More Than A Life

Encompassing all this,
Withholding for naught,
Auguring totality,
Things to be,
Simplicity complex,
Perplexity immense,
Innocence shattered,
A Bloody aftermath remains,
A birth, a death, a rebirth, eternity,
Falling through the ages,
Creation centers in being,
An individual extreme,
Conception, a waiting womb forming,
A slap on the bare ass, a scream,
It is time,
A life baptized,
Awake little innocent one birthed in likeness to ultimate unity,
Now you are one set apart,
Cry and scream,
Hunger and demand,
Belch and vomit,
Throw up upon yourself,
Passions aplenty,
Amazed and delighted,
Wiggle the fingers and toes,
Childhood growing,
A voice, subconscious forming,
Parents, broken adults loving, teaching, rearing,
Offering a name, others to huddle and cuddle amongst,
Effort, mistakes, success,
Pleasure and pain,
Skinned knees,
Gratifying victories,
The measles and mumps,
A broken heart,
A home run,
A game winning three,
Memories amidst the surviving,
Sitting in a pew week after week witnessing,
Receiving communion,
Generational imperfections amass,
The parental arrow that pierces was never meant to fly,
The embedded arrows within let loose the one that stings,
It is not of God, the brokenness within,
Children become fathers and mothers,
Sons and lovers,
Daughters and danger,
Siblings and sadness,
Competition and fun,
Let us cry and laugh,
Allow experiences to linger while new ones are birthed,
Surpass, surmount,
Holy Mother witness, watch, pray, shower graces,
Undo knots,
Heal,
Crush the serpent’s head,
You, the profound everlasting Mother,
Regenerate generations,
To lose one little sheep,
No, No, No,
Trinity please appease,
Through time, through births, through the many,
Emancipate one,
Enslave none,
Lord above, seated at the right hand,
A cross your earthly throne,
Your crown thorns,
Transform sorrow,
Allow joy to reign eternally supreme.
For each and every,
Heart beating within suffering,
Touch the individual standing alone,
Washed in sin, in faith, in hope, in love,
Life must surpass original sin,
Eclipse psychological and physical disasters,
A lasting train wreck God never directed,
Expand, breath into the virtues Holy Spirit,
Provide the gifts of true worldly advancement,
Archangels assist,
Bellow Gabriel, guide Raphael, protect Michael,
All you saints adore the wonder of individual creation,
Let not one escape without time changing battles,
Love the one in peril,
The Church of Christ support, sustain, inspire, teach,
Soothe the deepest wounds,
Filial infestation,
Hurting the deepest, the ones loved most,
Psychological impairment,
Blockage, obstacles,
Catholic church heal, amend,
A soft gentle touch,
A harsh brutal reprimand, discipline,
Sacramental gifting,
Transfiguration,
Obedience,
The Eucharest adoring,
Being adored,
Swallowing whole salvation.

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Proper Kneeling

Mortification and prayer,
Reposed, hand in hand,
Building beyond,
Foundational virtue,
Within faith,
Through hope,
In love,
Permeated by Divine Presence,
Effort, aided by grace,
Darkness ensues,
Joyful sadness infused,
Life gets none the better.

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Holy Hour and St Jane de Chantal reflection

Background a Crucifix
Forefront the Eucharist
Here am I
Here
I
Am
Fully present
Adoring aware
Transfixed staring
Removed from the world
Silently reposed
Cleverness collapsed
Intellect annihilated
Willing to be dumb
No more bright ideas
Eradicated schemes
As quiet as a mouse
Still
Knowing enough is enough
Lord
Fill me to overflowing

I say know thy self. Understand there will never be a shortage of people willing to throw themselves into the limelight and attention of obsessively active lives. There will always be a shortage of people willing to recede, dedicating themselves to lives of prayer and contemplation, silently and secretly turning to God.

A quote I borrow from Contemplative in the Mud. It precisely states a personal conviction and dedication

“A soul who has this spirit of prayer [contemplation] does more work in one hour than another, who is without it, will do in many; and her work done, she hastens to converse with her God, for this is her repose”.Saint Jane Frances de Chantal

St Jane de Chantal was therefore reduced to such a state that nothing on earth could afford any comfort, excepting the thought of death, “It is now forty-one years that temptations have been overwhelming me,” she said one day. “Ought I therefore to lose courage? No! I am determined to hope in God even though he should kill me and annihilate me forever.” She added these humble and magnificent words: “My soul was a piece of iron so rusted with sin that it needed this fire of Divine Justice to burnish it a little.”

“In the state of abandonment,” writes St Alphonsus, “Her one rule of conduct simply to look at God allow him to act. She always exhibited a cheerful countenance, was pleasant in conversation and kept her eyes continually fixed on the lord, reposing in the bosom of his adorable will. Saint Francis de Sales, her director, knowing how beautiful this soul was in the sight of God, compare her to a deaf musician who produces exquisite music, yet can derive no pleasure therefrom. He wrote to her as follows: ‘You must manifest an invincible loyalty towards the savior, serving him not alone without satisfaction but under the cruel oppression of sadness and fear.’ Later on, Mother de Chantel gave this prudent and virile counsel: ‘Never speak of your troubles either to God or to yourself. Do not scrutinize them. Keep looking at God and if you can speak to Him, speak to Him only of Himself.’. —Abbot Vital Lehodey, ‘The Way That Leads to God’.

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Intense words from St Jane de Chantal.  It reminds me of a recent extremely heated and emotional confrontation I was a part of, a situation that exhausted and defeated to the deepest depths.  The healing necessary to love God on the deepest level, to bring about holy unification, the synchronization of individual will with Divine Will, occurs absolutely within the natural and daily realm.  It is warfare.  Generalizing, the extended confrontation involved myself being wounded within a complex situation.  Creating overwhelming emotional turmoil, I found myself tuned through Eucharistic adoration, mass, the receiving of the Eucharist, and participation amidst a splendid congregation and my favorite Poor Clares.  Something of note I want to stress is that St Jane de Chantal’s words are more than intellectual wisdom, more than an entertaining pursuit.  They are difficult words to embrace, bringing fruition only through struggle.  To advance upon the contemplative path they must become a daily reality.  The sadness and fear she worked through as she concentrated her focus upon God are stark and harsh daily realities to be warred against, individual warfare to the extreme.  The gifts of the Holy Spirit are the weapons able to provide progress.

The words St Jane de Chantal writes attain profoundness, able to shower graces, when lived.  If intellectualizing about the spiritual life is just that, solely an exercise in cleverness, it is sheer pride, vanity of vanities. To read, comprehend, and admire winged words means nothing if they do not assist us in growth.  The reason I point this is out is that during my recent confrontation a remark was made that I find enlightening, one that must be understood.  Stressing that a certain act I made was soundly grounded in faith, hope, and charity–making the assertion several times, I was rebuked with the sarcastic comment associating my words as cartoonish.  The insinuation being that the ideals pursued during my deepest religious efforts were really not applicable in tremendously challenging and complex psychological moments, including a moment when individual brokenness of two authentically religious pursuing human beings came into severe conflict. The implied message that during extreme difficulties religious ideals are actually humorous if applied is enlightening. The dramatic dark undertone defining the religious life, and therefore God, as purely idealistic.  During the most difficult of moments–beyond self-will, involving individual damage, psychological distortions that are self-inflicted and inflicted by others reaching back to earliest childhood, while always under the watchful tending of God, to the care of Mary, the times St Jane de Chantal describes as presenting her with death as a tender mercy, these brutally problematic times must not be a time of abandoning the virtues and the gifts of the Holy Spirit.

The gifts of the contemplative spirit: wisdom, understanding, and knowledge/piety prove essential in shaping our foundation for employing the active gifts in our daily life, thus the expansion of the virtues within, providing greater contemplation. The natural life properly, penetratingly, and curatively cared for produces immense spiritual growth. It demands individual responsibility, and thus accountability. It is a matter of our doing. Let’s take inspiration from David’s slaying of Goliath. The contemplative gifts are the weapons, the stones waiting in David’s pouch, to be utilized in warring against our Goliaths the deepest parts of ourselves that are not only interiorly wounding, but also dangerous to those who dare to love us.  We are not David.  We do not kill our Goliath with the one stone of charity.  We must utilize all the stones in our holy pouch.  We must not fall away from the gifts of God during personal warfare.  As St Jane de Chantal declares: ‘No! I am determined to hope in God even though he should kill me and annihilate me forever’.  David rejected the armor of Saul, the softer easier path of the worldly.  It is during our most severe struggles that we must be drawn to that which is holy, to that which is above, striving for that which I know in my heart I should be.  It is why the saints are vital to the spiritual life.  The saints not only provide wisdom, they give example.

The saints did not seek out the softer easier way.  A natural tendency is to be drawn away from the difficult, the truly redemptive, seeking comfort in things that are not holy, opting for the shallowness of worldly things and people who do not aspire toward God.  It is important to recognize the opposite softer easier path that being the path of spiritual gluttony, avoiding personal growth through excessive involvement in religious matters.  To over indulge is just as dangerous as being drawn away from the holy.  If I seek the holy for wisdom, while ignoring piety, not on an evil level, but on a level of avoiding the most hurtful growth, I am not expanding my faith, hope, and charity through the gifts of the Holy Spirit.  If God has placed holy things in my life and I am drawn to unGodly, not evil but shallow, superficial people, places, and things I am embarking upon a wayward path, especially if I have dedicated my life to the deeper calling of a contemplative in the world.  An immature spirituality seeks out that which possesses no serious depth or maturity.   While embracing the ordinary, not seeking self-inflicted austerities–for such austerities are spiritual gluttony rather than redemptive, I must be able to embrace the difficult.  With respect to eternity, the narrow harder path is truly the softer easier path.

St John of the Cross provides spiritual guidance: Strive always to choose not that which is easiest, but that which is most difficult, not that which is most delectable, but that which is most unpleasing; not that which gives most pleasure, but that which gives no pleasure.  To choose not that which is restful, but that which is most worrisome; not that which gives consolation, but that which gives no consolation; not that which is greatest, but that which is least; not that which is loftiest and most precious, but that which is lowest and most despised; not that which is a desire for anything, but that which is a desire for nothing.  To go about seeking not the best things but the worst.  And to have detachment and emptiness and poverty, with respect to that which is in the world, for Jesus Christ’s sake.

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On into…

Purgative aridity,
Unknowing all things to a point of losing stable ground,
Flailing, faltering forward, step by step, into an abyss lacking,
Comprehension acutely nowhere,
Memory amiss misfiring, appetite quenched,
A Presence, absolute darkness,
Existence assails with cruelty and persistence,
Abandoning to indifference, ready and not,
Thoughts heavy, cloudiness, unable to penetrate on into,
On into prayer,
On into alienation,
On into smallness,
Diminutive and dim,
Agitated over-eagerness rejected through bitter sweetness,
Now ready, moment by moment,
Instilled knowledge loaded and experience locked down,
Remembrance wounded, weak, and repetitive,
Repeating over and over,
On into…
On into…
On into…
Stronger, more mature, well rested, less noisy, accurate and assured,
A blankness smothers, covers immense,
Crushing underneath all that was, all that is and all that is to come,
Quiet and still,
God remains stationary, the same, silently thriving, aware, loving intense,
Metamorphoses, consubstantial,
On into the overwhelming,
No longer pursuing intellectually,
Sufficing, surrendering to that which is not,
Seduced, contradictory, the Divine entwines,
No rules engaged, commandment obligation, obedient,
A game of casual happenstance, coincidence resounding, predicated not,
A friendly smile warms the heart, melodramatics ignored,
In the meantime, a brother to a brother, a brother to a sister,
The tugging lure of passions tempting,
The disabling emptiness of yearning inflicting interior pain,
Loneliness, isolation, temptation,
Others are happy,
Others are not,
Others are sad,
Others are not,
Disregarding appetites aplenty,
On into, absorbing, adoring
Content, happily sad, contrite, weeping at the feet loving upon the Cross,
Shaded by the mantle of a Mother held dear,
I am lost, He finds, together we search.

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