Catholic Hermit: What Are We Doing in This Life?

 And mostly, for myself, "What am I doing in this life, currently, now?"

I had purchased a piece of art from an artist friend in another state, insisting on paying him what it would be in a gallery despite he and his wife wanting to grossly discount it due to friendship over the years.  No, I believe in justice and fair price and encouragement, appreciation, for the talent he has and focused on artwork involving Scriptures and Christ, Holy Spirit, God the Father.  

I wanted the piece of art because it signifies myself seeking God, the Beloved Lover as is depicted in Song of Songs.  That is the theme of the artwork, specifically called "Song of Songs:  Prologue." I wanted to change my identity from pain to love, for the outer world of the handful of people, or now less than handful who keep in contact.  They do not grasp pain as identity being inextricably melded with love, as love.  Love to suffer, and suffer to love!--said St. Michael the Archangel to me one night in chapel back in summer of 2004.

So I was going to gaze upon the piece of art with the seeker of God gazing upon a mystically rendered face of Christ, His hand prominent between then reaching toward her, touching and with flower against her neck, proffered, His love represented. An arc of white which the artist intended to be the Holy Spirit, is above their heads; but mostly what I saw was the arc of Christ Light, as if from his head to hers, with then later noticing that a widening occurs at top as if to be the emanation point of the white Light of energy and source of all beingness and love.  God's source of power and might in white Light, Christ Light, emanating and touching as electrical current would arc from power source to contact.

But the day the woodcut print, tinted in part, arrived, I was into a pain siege, barely able to get up to answer door with Alec the Polish postman, so kind and holy, handing me the flat parcel.  A few hours later I was able to get up and use the box cutter to carefully open the cardboard package.  I had wanted to substitute that image of my love for God and His love for me, to lead in my identity transformation from pain to love--instead of the image of crucifix with Christ's pained body hanging from cross. 

However, also in the package the artist friend had included a print of Crucifixion, a black and white woodcut rendering, beautiful in detail, quite small but stark and meaningful.

The message seems that there is no separating or changing my identity from pain to love.  My identity remains pain in the temporal world, to temporal others.  As for myself, there is no escaping this physical pain that is nearly all-consuming now. For eight weeks or more, I've had this strange, spatial disorientation going on The pain doctor reduced, twice, the pain medication's release and flow from the intrathecal pump into my spinal dural space via implanted catheter.  It seemed to reduce the severity of disorientation and difficulty focusing the mind; but now there is increased pain to a point that I've been bedridden again, other than up in a daze for bathroom and such as watered the other night, the plants in a few pots outside. 

But then the molar with the crown in upper left side became horrifically irritated, unexpectedly and with little provocation--just having finally energy to try driving 1.4 miles to get carry out of slaw, beans, and pulled pork.  Back in bed to sup on first meal in several days due to too much pain to eat much, and there goes the molar into praxism of pain.

Finally it is Monday, and I've called the dentist, with but a recording they are helping other patients and to leave message and number for a call back. It's been over three hours, and same message, no call back.  Must be on vacation?  I've endured barely these past 40 hours, but crushing and keeping an oral pain med to that molar has helped, plus crushing and holding an Excedrin to it, also, helps. Salt water rinsing maybe did a little, but not using the mouth at all for 24 hours and then trying a little food on right side of mouth only, allowed for a little nourishment other than a protein drink that causes nausea connected with eating issues remaining from last autumn's pain pump surgery.  The Arachnoiditis was aggravated, causing gastroparesis, and that has remained even if the body and mind are adapting to not much intake and only certain foods if and when.....

The Lord seems to be emphasizing this week, that my pain identity is to remain. The love identity was a ruse to be tried on the handful who keep in contact. But even with strangers, such as the ophthalmologist's asst. who checked the eye pressures--he pointed out to me kindly that my pants were undone.  Perhaps I had not noticed?  So I patiently explained that they are undone because there is an implanted metal pump, and I pointed out the bulge and why I also wear suspenders so as to hold up the pants since the waist cannot be fastened shut nor fly zipped but part way, if that. Long shirts tucked in keep decency intact, but the look, I admit, is not the norm.  In fact, standing in front of the chair or walking around the waiting room where I've been told to "take a seat", is not the norm.  people notice and stare, and wonder not only at the person sanding and no "taking a seat," but wearing suspenders and pants not closed up properly. I barely notice how I am constantly explaining to people why this and that, such as to the person who takes me to the eye exam room and says to "take a seat" and wait for the doctor.  Well, too much pain to just sit on those padded seats the temporal world ends to have for the comfort of most people's usually already amply-padded bottoms.  So when I'm told again to "take a seat," I explain that with the severe back pain, and having "sat" to drive there the 8 miles or less but sitting with traffic taken in account, and the fact I'd need to sit to return home--I need to stand whenever there is wait time.

So even in the minor details of the rare times out of the Solus Deus domicile, pain is my identity even if wordlessly taking the body into Home Depot to get a saw blade, for the body inadvertently carries itself in a constantly braced and angled position to tolerate as best as possible, the pain.

So when I was just starting to make some progress after being down and out for  few days, memory blackouts included from too much pain, and much dozing from pain fatigue (yet not much  if any satisfying type sleep due to pain effects), and I'd made it back with the carry out and into bed to recline to eat--that tooth flared in praxisms of pain s never pained prior--nor any tooth for that matter.

No, my identity is to remain pain. There is no escaping it for myself, and no fooling others or not for long.  Someone I'd not heard from in months and months happened to call.  Immediately--and this before the tooth agony but when I thought I was going to be able to get up that day--the person said upon hearing my voice, "You don't sound well at all!  Is your pain bad today?"  And I'd done my best to modulate the voice and sound "normal."

There is no normalcy in this body nor in this life I live, if this is living or more a living death.

So what am I doing in this life?

I'm suffering. And I'm also yet seeking, seeking, seeking God, My Beloved Lover.  I'm seeking in pain, loving in pain, living in pain until my Beloved returns for me and takes me with Him.

In the meantime, I want to do more for God since I cannot do much for people on His behalf, not much temporally, and to talk with me is a reminder to them of my identity of pain, and to many people that identity is distasteful and "old", a broken record repeating over and over the suffering of the day or hour or moment, for they usually always ask or hear it or see it in and on me.

I consider it a great coup when someone calls, a rare event indeed, and I can keep them from inquiring, and can have the voice seem very fine and strong and peppery with questions of their lives and goings on, their doings and feelings

So I plan to return to writing on this blog.  On rare occasion I've noticed that the sick nemesis continues with negativity and misrepresenting my writing, but that will just have to be that person's choice and expression of character.  I doubt I'll ever touch upon a topic that particularly draws out the devil in that one, as my hermit life is nothing needing discussion and likely never did.  My life in Christ, melded in His pain and love, are more perhaps what might be of help to others even if their suffering is not constant nor mostly physical. But the physical pain morphs into emotional suffering, for all aspects of relationships are impacted by suffering of one with others who have or do or will suffer, but not in pervasive and praxismatic pain.  (That word--praxism--popped in the other day with uncanny meaning and satisfying descriptive attribute, like idyllic ice cream on hot day.)

Been listening to Fr. George the Joyous in India, celebrate Mass on occasion.  He "has it"--has the joy of the Holy Spirit in genuine and innate spirituality of the Trinity.  Fr. George the Joyous is not on often, but I can listen to the voice preaching of God and His Living Word, via Youtube, even if heard same prior.  The mind is so pervaded with and through and in pain, that content is not usually recalled, anyway.

The through and with and in pain of listening or seeing or being up in the house, or dozing--or as this afternoon must take he pain to a place where a clinician will hopefully go at the neck with deep tissue work--that is the Trinity Being Pain and Love is the other dimension of Pain.  It's not that people want to hear me talk about love any more than pain, but while pain gets old for them--and they don't begin to consider how old it gets for me--love would be awkward for them, for love is God, and many do not want talk of God any more than pain, either, or, and both.

I'm not sure what I'll write about. Hopefully it will be of God Is Love and God Is Pain, for God is All.  But hopefully in ways that are helpful to readers of this blog, or helpful to the one writing, and ways glorifying to God despite the imperfections of the one writing, and the utter humanness of this increasingly broken body and disruptive nerve endings progressing with the Adhesive Arachnoiditis--strange and uncommon ailment as it is.

Now to get up and dress, likely in the linen-cotton overalls.  Got two for very little cost on Amazon.  Praise God; they accommodate the pump hump.  Will give the one a try and not too late to return the other.  Problem is, too tired to expend added energy driving them to drop off place for Amazon returns. Whatever, try to do all for God and sprinkle the joy when open to the Holy Spirit's endless amounts of joyousness.

God bless His Real Presence in us!