I realize what I write might seem terrible to some Catholics, or perhaps even Protestants although doubt many read my blog. It can be hard for me to fathom at times, this progression of my mind, heart and soul--body along with it suffering as it is.
But it is breakthrough as I'd been beseeching the Lord to help me understand why the mystical ecstasies at Mass and the reality that just seeming deeply asleep, pulse indiscernible, during Mass and whatever other word-of-mouth went among the priests and some parishioners regarding other little mystical gifts of discernment of spirits or being shown into some troubled priests or parish situations, would cause such an uproar and effectually my ouster. At minimum, new location and only two parish priests aware, but others curious, the reception was odd plus skeptical, alienating, and with Covid became obvious as well not to go only to be placed in a room alone with a big screen live-streaming Mass.
What would I tell anyone should I ever be asked my church affiliation? I suppose "Christian Catholic" would be the answer. I am very deeply "Catholic" and would not join any other Christian or other type church, excellent as so many are, deep into the Living Word of God and striving to live it, followers of Jesus as they are. Forty-four years of my life was in Protestantism of various denominations including evangelical types, and I progressed and met and had many truly wonderful friends among them.
As a Catholic, I found the mystics (a bit prior to my confirmation in studying and reading and praying for a few years prior). I know the Lord wanted me, gifted me, with this encounter so I would not feel so alone despite John the Baptist appearing in symbol vision and spoke to me in waking hour, explaining, comforting, teaching, encouraging that my life was one of being different but that he felt great warmth for me and advised me in several aspects of being in the desert physically and of the mind, learning from all the creatures and of all God's creation and of God Himself. He repeated I must "simply keep going" and how simple is that?
Now as I review my marriage banquet to my Spouse Jesus the Christ, and his giving me instructions upon leaving for a while, telling me He would return for me, that I am to not pay any attention to priests and parishioners, but to remain strong, and to wait. He emphasized to remain STRONG. Have I done so? No. Have I not paid attention to priests and parishioners? Not until the past couple of years specifically, and prior for five years struggling with the reality that I was not to be involved in parishes and dioceses, that being involved is paying attention to all the temporal of the system and structure, the world of humankind created and organized as "His Church". When, in reality, there is much more and more accurately His Church as the spiritual and mystical which can very much include active and corporal works of charity and mercy.
The vision and locution the night prior to my Confirmation and First Holy Communion in tangible form, was that of a long corridor, a passageway of ancient stones, and rooms along each side of the corridor in which were books and tables and benches to welcome one to go in and stay a bit in prayer and study, then move on down the corridor which seemed to extend endlessly.
However, in the temporal, there are always ends and endings. All things are passing, including the progression and passing through the corridor or passageway of the temporal Church. Even my older Protestant friends and family have passed through, some of them, to other notions or augmentations to their Christian roots or others quite fortunate to deeper prayer having absorbed and continuing in studying and striving to live out His Living Word. While they do not have the vast offerings that are in the Catholic Church from the very beginnings on through the centuries, including the pith of what Christ instituted as well as embellishments and rituals, laws and traditions added on--they have Christ and God and the Holy Spirit in their faith and depth within His Living Word and prayer life.
I would not give up all the immensity and treasures I have been given in Catholicism, in the Catholic Church, including the persecutions which taught me while Catholics are aware of mystics quite well, they still in this century do not treat mystics in their midst well at all unless that mystic has some outer phenomenon which is of benefit to them, such as gift of healing or acceptable after being grilled by those who think they ought (priests, bishops, cardinals, vatican somebodies, such marks as external stigmata.
What I am discovering sans association with parishioners and parishes and dioceses, sans 1752 canon laws and Bishop's Appeals for money, sans priests and parishioners judging and putting me through the wringer or isolating or persecuting in various ways--is HIS REAL PRESENCE is in me, with me through me, all around me, wherever I am or be. This is beginning to sink in, also, that I am to try to enjoy this existence here on earth, to roll with the solitude and accept my erratic upsets from the constant and horrible pain this body bears with pain increasing as the days and nights pass despite surgically implanted morphine pump and oral opioids augmenting in the days. The more the pain, the more erratic emotionally; the medications provide ability to think and present myself somewhat decently, humanly acceptable to the few others I encounter on rare occasions of errands or phone calls for temporal responsibilities.
Now enter the puppy, Mercy. I am learning some basic virtues--or rather learning to hone them such as patience and kindness, self-control, temperance, fidelity, love. She is reminding me in the Nine S' of my hermit life: silence, solitude, slowness, suffering (pain up with added activity and duties), selflessness, simplicity, stillness, stability (a tough one with such pain and a pup!), serenity (not so often now but will find it with God's little creature).
I've missed my dear spiritual da, a Catholic priest who was and is a spiritual friend and directed me for many years, as well as received on behalf of the Church and of God Himself, my hermit vows at my consecration as a Catholic Hermit. I've been so discredited and detracted by a "canonically approved" woman hermit in Oakland Diocese despite her current bishop nor Vicar General knowing of her existence in that diocese (another example of temporal church gone awry), that what I write means not much, and I'm not sure who bothers to read my thoughts and experiences along this journey of life in Christ, as a Catholic and always will be in this temporal life a Catholic Christian or Christian Catholic and a consecrated Catholic hermit now 23 years including proficiency and novice years necessary to discern whether formally called that or not.
The early Christian (Catholic) hermits did not have such designations nor processes formal; they simply answered God's call in their hearts and strove to live the life as God unfolded for them, most often leaving the temporal world as well as their native areas, and to live in solitude and silence, prayer, penance, study and love of God and others as best feasible given whatever circumstances of their life situations. The hermits prior to the time of Christ, the hermits of other world religions, the hermits then and those striving in a genuine hermit life now, all share the common bases that God unfolds for His religious solitaries.
The pup was a stretch for me. Mercy has made the solitude not as solitary in a sense. I had to trust that His Real Presence wanted me to have the experience and the means of growing and practicing those Nine S', plus to experience God's presence in a loving, sweet creature such as a small pup. As I watch her sit (even in the cold!) and stare out at the world of nature, she reminds me to take time to appreciate the beauty all around, to slow down the short walks, to accept the increased pain, to break dog-rules and let her rest on the bed when I'm tired and in higher pain. I'm reminded to play, to toss the ball again and again, to squeak the stuffed dog toy or play tug-o-war with her chew rope made for that purpose.
I am greeted each morning and after each nap with eager, excited, unconditional love--a reminder of His Real Presence always with us and in us, happy to see our awareness of His Life and Love. Any time Mercy is reprimanded, the forgiveness comes quickly and as if the punishment forgotten but not the way expected to behave, even though reminders can be necessary. This is how God interacts with us, and how we ought be with others--faithful in love, quick to forgive, and try to forget, and remember what is the righteous way of acting in our lives to and for God and others as well as to and in ourselves.
Mercy and I do meet people on our walks, on occasion, and on errands people are drawn to pet her and inquire of her age and breed. These short exchanges remind me of my place in this temporal world to be always kind to others, pleasant, encouraging, sharing Christ's Light even in the name of the pup: Mercy. Yet these encounters are not often and not lengthy, which helps my pain issues as well as is in keeping with the life God has chosen for me--one of more solitude and silence, of a type of hibernation with Him and for a type of protection from "the world".
Now this includes very much a solitude and silence from the temporal aspects of the structured church and those attending other than in prayer and loving thoughts. Of knowing that even while I took a long time to grasp what "pay no attention to them" entailed, and that I was being brought through the passageway, and the temporal aspects of that passageway would have an ending point through which I would pass and on into a deeper spiritual, mystical life, through a portal to the stairway to heaven--all is well and good and as it ought be for the body, mind, heart, and soul.
This Christian Catholic Mystic Hermit continues on the spiritual journey and will continue to strive to write about it even if what I write seems incomprehensible and somehow "wrong" to those not grasping the spiritual reality of the temporal Church as passageway, with an end point and portal through which we are passing and at some point pass through, onward and out there, yet still on earth. On the stairway to heaven, not perfect, but yet being perfected in this life now more spiritual by far than temporal, no longer thinking I ought nor trying to fit in to what was not but now into what is.
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