No matter the income, nothing Catholic hermit has noticed expenditures which have a deeper root than temporal need. In fact, there are few expenditures for basic need, as the diet is sparse and inexpensive, the habit purchased and not likely to wear out soon if ever in the hermit's lifetime, the car old but kept in running order with few miles to and from Mass. Mortgage in this hermit's case, but low water, heat and electricity. Fios and cell phone, but thinking about land line and no cell phone since hermit is at hermitage most of the day and night. Will save some, and monthly savings add up.
It is the expenditures for the passions--the Mary Gardens and the Catholic books that rub uneasily, and why? The underlying root of the need comes to the surface. Up in the middle of the night with pain, and once more recognized what the plants and books represent, in part. They provide contact, and as the Mary Gardens fill and the bookshelves fill, there will be no room for more contacts with Christopher or Tom Patrick or Leah or Tim or Shawn of the booksellers and nursery and landscape help. Perhaps already mentioned is that desire for the scarce and topic-oriented Catholic books (hermits, victim souls, mystical theology, saints, and etc.). They represent contacts of an interior essence. They reassure, much as the interesting conversations on various cultivars with Tim and Shawn.
But nothing must face this next degree of eremitic life, a bit more wringing out in that "-er" of "strict-er separation from the world." Yes, this morning in confession it told the regular confessor (and made hand movements to accentuate) that nothing felt as if the Lord was wringing it from damp to even dry. Yet that is how it must be, for who wants to be a wet rag, anyway? There is water in a wet rag, an then there is mold and stink. A nothing Catholic hermit is to not be anything but nothing, wrung out, limp in the hands of God.
The Lord does take care of the details. Having found some exciting book titles, and spending a few hours researching these and others (see how one can find ways to distract?), the list was submitted to Christopher. Then nothing fretted about what it had done, and the expense, when it is trying to change the flow of its finances, trying to cooperate more with God in being wrung dry.
But upon returning from Mass, there was an e-mail from across the ocean, and Christopher reports that two of the books are already sold--exquisite books, but the most expensive two. The Lord relieved nothing, thankfully, and is helping it make the changes by degrees. What remain on the list are just what Jesus allows: Anchoresses of the West, The Monastery of the Grand Chartreuse, Life of Mother Mary Teresa (foundress of the Adoration of Reparation), Cedar of Lebanon (bio of St. Sharbel).
Nothing Catholic hermit made a vow on August 1 to not use the credit card. It can use the debit from checking account and write checks. This vow seemed necessary since the spending each month became a burden on the mind, a distraction taking up space, the finances always whining like an uncatchable mosquito in the night. But the finances for a month or two are going to also be distractions since the change is occurring, and nothing must alter its spending, and that circles to those inner needs which aren't good ones for a hermit to retain!
And after a couple of months, the remnants of credit card bills and no-interest delayed payment (for the laptop) will be paid, and the whining mosquitos will be no more. Seems a small matter, but the distractions surfaced, and the contact needs surfaced, and now they are dealt with, up front. A hermit must fully cooperate with the stripping down, including subtle attempts to leach out into the world, away from the -er of strict-er. Nothing is moving -erer.
So nothing told its confessor that the eremitic life is not all that easy. No. He agreed. Nothing also said it likes the vocation, and that of victim soul with it, but it is quite challenging. Like learning to play the harp is challenging. Just learning to tune the harp is challenging.
The confessor said the harp is going to be good for nothing. Yes, it will. And the other evening after Mass, the confessor told nothing that these senses of being stripped down are a phase, that he thinks the Lord is preparing nothing for something.
Nothing has pondered this for a couple of days, and nothing would like to believe that, but the only something that comes to mind is immolation and death! Yes, the Lord is surely preparing nothing for these. Does He not do that for everyone?
And that was what nothing kept wanting to tell the confessor this morning, but three times when it thought of it, the thought would immediately leave, and nothing was exhausted from the night work, and of grappling with those books and the expense, and the reality of the underlying roots--so kept trying to say but then would say, "I forget now!" So it was left to call when the thought came and held enough to express it.
Now it seems, after writing about it, that nothing will be able to express how it is being prepared for immolation and death, and this means more stripping of loose ends like plants and books and the people who deal in them.
One aspect nothing was able to express, however, is that of knowing the reality--that as human relationships are stripped back and away by God (as nothing attempts to relinquish all but God's will)--and that reality is nothing's physical suffering and also the call of the vocation. Nothing cannot handle much activity, talk, interaction, and thus does not desire it; and yet the mind somehow wonders, at times, if this degree of the -er in stricter is really happening, is the Lord's will! But indeed it is! When the doubts are brushed aside, the peace reflects upon reflection, shimmering. Well, hard to explain....
How lovely to discover that the laptop and Fios signal are strong down by Lake Immaculata (the pond!). So here nothing writes, this coolish, overcast morning, and is thankful for the stillness, and the opportunity to be here amidst God' beauteous creation! The trees, the perennials, the shrubs, the groundcovers and flowers--they do fulfill a chunk of relational transition void, without requiring anything in return but grateful gazes.
2 comments:
Dear Nothing, I am yet encouraged how similar our lives are. Of course I am not a hermit but feel God has led me to your blogs as it mirrors my own climb up the mountain and in it I find God's words to me, and a comfort.
I started that stripping which you are speaking of earlier this spring- the precious, expensive books and for me also religious articles. The Lord actually had to help me get started also. Books can be very helpful but a soul will be told when she crosses the line.
I had many excuses for my purchases such as preservation, spiritual need, etc. but I realized it was a clinging. A keeping one foot in the water in case I needed to run. Run from whom? Myself I think. From being called also.
My head is much clearer and this is what I tried to express in the loneliness. Fear. Many doubts then enter in to harass my poor brain and I am unsure what the fear truly is but I think we all experience it when being asked to give all to God. Fear because I cannot envision being completely alone with no distraction from the suffering, the stripping, or from myself.
My heart wishes to give all and quickly (maybe to pass the truth I will be shown about myself and the cross, although I like to say it is out of desire and love) but there are the layers to be peeled away. Things arise in the layers that I realize I was trying to not see, or was blinded to, and things I am sad to part with, and weariness with myself at how many layers there are. I believe it is very humbling to see with each layer how insignificant my life is and how wretched I truly am on my own.
My vocation still keeps me with my family but I have seen how easily that also could be taken. Fear to be alone also causes one to suddenly cling to those in the home also, children and spouse.
I have a sense of loneliness even in the vocation as I am journeying alone. I say alone but I mean alone in God. Each journeys alone on their own path. We have help from others, yes, but there is a oneness that must occur also. A woman can give birth with many drs, and relatives about but she is essentially one giving birth. Dying I know will be the same. Many good souls will be there to aid, but it is a oneness.
I am clearly told that my writing to you is yet another toe in the water. I felt I needed advice but maybe I just wanted to find a way to get rid of the cross I was bearing. Now writing has become a book purchase if you will but Jesus is quick to reprimand.
I see how I am prolonging the complete gift of self because I am in looking into the darkness of fear instead of the darkness of faith. I am asked to be in the present and decide- not to picture the future, the vocation, the crosses, or the evil one who will surely be lurking about. It is a choice given and I must choose in the blindness of faith. Do I accept or don't I?
Yes, I accept Lord. So goodbye for awhile dear Nothing. I will pray for you and be comforted to know that we are on the same path. We are never really alone when united in His heart together are we?
Dear Dreaming,
Well expressed! I have learned much from you, and have been helped in seeing the self and those layers (for me, the sideways crosses) as they are revealed, one after the other.
For me, the items are not in the possession of them, although reading them is helpful to a point--it is the act of distraction from pain and trying to fill that looming gap of even a few moments! I can get rid of things as quickly as they accumulate, or not, as a few years back I dispensed of items, but it is the human contact and the distraction of that which is the current layer.
Fear of totally being immolated, annihilated by the gut-wrenching pain, at times worse than others, keeps me at the distraction level, and some of that is good for it is as written previously, a means of fear being an ally to faith, to spur on the faith.
Yes, we do have many similarities, and this has been very good, for no matter the vocations, we are all souls seeking the Lord. And, as in any mountain climb, at a certain level we venture forth as the path grows quite narrow and steep, and there is not the capacity to hike in groups or two or three abreast.
Writing, too, is a distraction, but perhaps a good and necessary one for me in this process, for today I would lie down and wail (after maybe throwing up), and then not struggle to keep up the spirit, the joy, the climb!
When in pain such as this, even the thought of a book makes me ill, but it will be St. Hildegarde's bio that will also help me to endure the suffering, this afternoon!
God bless you, and know that you are in my prayers and appreciate my being in yours, and am thankful that my candid writings have been any small bit helpful in your recognizing whatever God wills, within.
And now, am tempted to make the body go to the nursery, to get the three remaining chamaecyparis out of hock, so the others here can be planted, as there is the inner sense that all must be "placed" in order before planting: height, color, texture, limb structure, width--all in array with other plantings. Thanks be to God for some distractions, for perhaps He offers some as He did His hand to Peter. But first, another over-the-counter, as they help distract, also, when the pain looms larger than nothing! And all for the love of God and the love of souls! We can offer ALL.
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