Thoughts, Just Thoughts

Tonight at Agnus Dei, thoughts warm the air of the small great room. The fireplace helps, too. If it sounds hermit-like in the simple sense of logs chopped and kindling rubbed into flame, forget it. Yet, it is a simple fireplace: flick the switch, dial the fan, and the little house is heated in short span. The orchids like the warmth but need more humidity.

Was thinking about what the confessor said this morning, and how Jesus does remain with us sinners. Yet He lights our lives with His way if we are looking for light. Sometimes the Holy Spirit flashlights Christ's way, right into our secular eyes.

Well, it is going to take courage to remain with this own self, a sinner, and to remain with others who seem to be difficult. To not have enemies takes some thought and effort, and discipline over the thoughts and images of others, of the past, or in surprises that come along moment by moment. Jesus has courage! He has courage to take us in hand, to teach, to love no matter what. To love the sinner but not the sin. Much in our lives can seem to not be out-right sin but of misrepresentations. But what is behind those?

In considering St. Silouan's God-given mode of humility (was told in prayer to keep his mind in hell but not despair), the nothing considers the editing work for the consumer company. Many of the complaints of persons treated unjustly, come from company employees who misrepresent the product or services sold. Sometimes they outright lie, but mostly it is misrepresentation; white lies, or confusions. Well, that is sin.

The editing work allows the nothing Catholic hermit to be on the precipice of the ugliness of the consumer world, which the nothing, from what it's read, can liken to hell. But one must not despair; it is only a world, and there is another world which is of God. Being on the edge of the consumer world, and reading the horrendous problems and injustices that people endure (and some become as if drowned in the problems), one experiences a humbling effect, sitting on the other side of a computer screen but editing the horrors that cost people so much time, energy, money, sometimes possessions, and often threaten their mental states.

The nothing Catholic hermit has lately pondered why God would tell St. Silouan to keep his mind in hell but despair not--aside from what St. Silouan had explained of it. And the nothing here thinks a good aspect of having the mind in "hell" (in this case, doused with the reality of the problems with consumer goods and services), is that it reminds the nothing to not desire that state but to turn all the more to God--but to recognize that we are vulnerable at any moment to that state of being caught--or of sliding--into that or other hells.

So it is humbling. And this is what God desired for St. Silouan: to be humbled always. To know that we are human and human to remain while on this earth, is humbling. For it is as the confessor said this morning--no matter how close God brings us to Himself, in a flash He can tumble us back down to see that we can err; yet God then lifts us up again in His mercy!

The nothing is grateful for the editing task, and only a couple hours daily is a glimpse of hell enough. It helps the nothing in another way besides the humility of being vulnerably human: the horrors represented in the consumer complaints require a kind of missionary work, in that the complaints require attention to corrections in clarity and grammar, and this focus assists the nothing Catholic hermit in remaining grounded.

Yes, another question the nothing asked of a priest after Mass, was that of the increasing detachment to the point of thinking one is going to simply slip away--to death? Evidently not, for the nothing remains in body, but the sensation is of being on the verge of not being in the body. Also the lack of desire for much of anything was mentioned, such as food and going here or there, or contact with others or no contact--and the days and nights flow gently without ceasing, and it would matter not to be alive or dead as it all seems like soul is sailing as wind, not boat.

The priest said that, of course, with food and such there ought to be discipline to eat. Well, yes, there is eating; but the point is that the nothing cares nothing about what is eaten, other than enforcing a slight variety in vegetables, fruit, some cheese and nuts, beans, rice. But none of it matters. It is a detached motion without note, like breathing. The nothing no longer notices if anyone calls, does not care if there are human contacts, for it seems as if there are contacts, not necessarily human but can be, or not; it doesn't matter.

So then the priest said that this is all right, then, and the nothing Catholic hermit must simply flow with it, allow the process. God is handling the matter.

But love seems very important, and loving everyone, and praying for the world, and not having any enemies and now not criticizing which seems to cause enemies to spring up in the thoughts of the mind and in the visual images of others seen with the eyes but also in the memory. And suffering insults, and remaining uprighted with centerboard keeping the mind at least two or so hours a day in consumer world hell--but having hope and hopefully praying hope for God is love and will lift all up, who want to be lifted up, in His mercy.

Well, yes, and it takes courage to write. The nothing Catholic hermit watched the adult son being interviewed over the weekend on a national news program. With no TV hooked up, the nothing was alerted in advance and watched on the computer. The adult son writes and exposes, and is seen and known in a sea of many known unknowns, and keeps writing what seems best to write for that shard world, out there.

And the nothing Catholic hermit just keeps writing what seems best to write, and is unseen and unknown (genderless soul in nothingness), and writes for this lambsworld in here. Pray the Holy Spirit, for courage: the nothing to write person-humbling, the small matters of the hidden details in the floaty days and nights--the nine s'wishing to be sailing as wind, not boat.