Catholic Hermit, an Uncommon Hermit

Well, perhaps.  What is a common hermit, anyway?  Ought not all hermits fit into the category of being "uncommon"?

Regardless, this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit is not the dour type.  I've lost a lot of forced piety over time, as in not as rigorous and more going with God's flow.  That can include music--and not just the classical music of Bach's Masses and Mozart's.  They are packed away, although I could find them on YouTube, perhaps?

I was never one to keep up with the latest in-groups when younger.  But in the past couple or so years I came across "The Beach Boys."  I started reading about them on Wikpedia, and I watched some online documentaries of their lives.  

Always fascinated with people and lives, perhaps it is in my later years and my interest in souls, that I have found the lives of others to be of great interest.  And music is peaceful, healing, soothing with its harmonies when I am in a pain siege.

Today is one such day. This is actually the third day of it, but I have toughed it out by pushing the body at least to hook up soaker hoses and pick strawberries to put out on the roadside table.  Yesterday I awoke thinking I'd passed through the siege, gotten off "easy" with but one day of spinal headache and difficulty handling situations.  

But by Mass last evening, the spinal headache had erupted; the newer muscle pain, sharp, revved with driving to the church.  Even though the ecstasy provided the gift of no pain, and I had great refreshment into the evening, this morning I awoke socked in with awful pain.  Darkness battles light.

Anyway, I took an extra med hoping to avoid the big-gun meds that would sedate me for the day and night.  Hate to have to do that, for at least this way I have moved about, such as the soaker hoses every hour or two, and picked two more quarts of berries awhile ago.  So I have tried to distract the darkness that threatens my thoughts by listening to music.

Beach Boys!  I came across a video of a concert they had 33 years ago.  The city was about 40 miles from where I lived at the time.  Life was quite different then, for me, for them.  A year later I would have the life-altering car accident--hit by teen drunk driver.  Well, anyone who has followed my blogs knows the bulk of all that ensued. 

As to the Beach Boys, that very year, a few months later, the middle brother, Dennis, would die from drowning.  He'd had too much to drink, dove, hit his head, remained under too long.  Brian, the eldest and musical genius, composer, song-writer brother, had rejoined the group publicly after more than a decade of emotional and weight problems.  Fifteen years later, the youngest brother, Carl--the one with "the voice of an angel" (truly!) would die at age 51 or so from cancer.  He had been a cigarette smoker.

I consider all their lives--their upbringing, their rise to stardom, their enduring even to this year, going on a tour, I think, their last, perhaps.  The harmonies are stellar yet.  The words mostly not the message; the music, the compositions, the sound is what resonates, uplifts, takes the mind easily from such as severe bodily pain, headache, foot pain, spinal pain, leg pain.  Nerves are on fire, burning.  

The music and thoughts of these men's lives--abusive dad, some drug experimentation, drinking, emotional and mental problems Brian had to endure, pass through.  Yes, they persevered in what was a life that had its loopholes in which they got entangled when younger.

On my part, I have endured thus far, but my suffering continues.  There is no way to overcome it physically.  I do feel as if I am wearing down, the muscles de-conditioned from a winter of too much pain and a spring of additional areas of pain, and some injuries included, like slipping thrice on the pole barn roof, or the blood poisoning from the splinter in the left thumb.  Or the on-going flare ups of the right thumb when the drill whipped back on it last December.

I did not cause the car accident years ago. I did not drink and drive, nor did I smoke.  I did not experiment with drugs, nor did I have an abusive father.  I did not run around on my spouse, was faithful, hard-working, serious about God, yes, but fun-loving.  So I have been blessed even though I did get myself into tough situations.  Mostly, the tough ones found me, though.

So it goes, that not always can we say that our lives are as they are, due to something we did or should not have done.  There are other forces involved.  Some call it our destinies; I call it God's plan, His Will, the mission marked out for us.  And, such as with the Beach Boys and others like Glen Campbell, despite some choosing to live in certain health- and morally risky ways, we can endure; we can overcome ourselves.

These musicians are proof of it, as even Dennis, the rebellious Beach Boy who went through a rough drinking period, had started to turn it around some, had come back to the security of the group, was starting to play the drums again, such as he was drumming at the concert in early summer 1983.

Should a hermit be watching and listening to the likes of pop-rock music, involving mind with lives of music stars?  (Yes, I have researched the life of Glen Campbell, too, and have listened to various songs--what a savant guitarist from early age, a poor background, and major issues with drugs and alcohol with a Jesus-conversion experience in post-midlife!)

I have wondered that today, myself. Should I be spending time here on the mattress, listening to the Beach Boys, picking up a few more details of their life histories, reminiscing with amazement that I was close by that very day of that concert--and had not an interest in it then at all.  No, it is the length and breadth and depth of life experiences that intrigue me.

I like to see from near the end of lives, back through, sifting the ashes, so to speak, to glean the bits of gold filling or whatever, that show the brilliance of a life lived that was filled with suffering of one type or another, regardless if we brought it on ourselves or God orchestrated matters to bring us to His Will for us, or a bit of both.

I like to watch the ones yet alive--Al Jardine, Brian Wilson, Mike Love, and now Al Jardine's son Matt who helps with vocals. I like to watch and listen to their old bodies and old voices, the latter amazingly strong yet.  I appreciated deeply the performances of Glen Campbell in later years, especially the documentary of his good-bye tour, suffering Alzheimer's.

I like to see how these people persevered and endured, how they overcame the darkness in their lives, or at least tried and were on their way upward.  What is this hermit's song to be?  A dirge, or one of uplift?  Perhaps it will be more on the lines of "God Only Knows," or "Love and Mercy."  Something simple, yet I had better hang on here today, in order to sing it to God.

Sometimes it is very difficult to endure through such pain.  Perhaps I should take a big-gun med, as this might drag on longer than if I'd just knock myself out for awhile, be sedated.  I don't know.  I hate the medication effects, and I want to try to do without.  Might not be wise nor caring of the body that with prolonged high-level pain is stressed, and then the emotions are stressed.

Darkness is all part of it.  The doubts, the feelings of hopelessness, particularly of if I will be able to do the manual labor necessary here.  Need to do some mowing, finish painting the exterior, the whole interior is studs mostly, with some drywall in some areas, not taped nor mudded yet.  I have a load of laundry to do and hang on the line.  Ought to brush the teeth--the bathtub the only source of water now until the end of September.

Don't ask me--ask Lowe's!  My aunt yesterday questioned me, as if I was somehow not ordering cabinets properly.  "Now, just how is that Lowe's keeps getting the cabinets wrong???"  I responded simply:  "The employees are incompetent."  My aunt responded simply, also, "Oh."  My cousin called today.  I knew she'd talked with her mother.  She questioned me as to why I still do not have a sink.  

It becomes too much to go over the negativity that does not matter, anyway.  Nothing to be done about it but wait and hope and pray that the situation gets worked out, sometime.  Right?  I've ceased being upset about it, but with high-level pain, that is not easy!  

Anyway, to some I might seem an uncommon hermit, listening to Beach Boys music and Glen Campbell songs at this phase of my life and nearly 16 years since profession of hermit vows.  Why not read more into St. Teresa's Way of Perfection  for the third time (does wonders with each read) or try to continue with St. Hildegard's Scivias (Visions)?

Maybe it has to do with just needing music today, harmony, and a sense of the passage of time and lives lived, and some joyful upbeat to remind me to keep fighting the darkness that this type of pain can levy upon a person.  Perhaps it is to remain with a finger on the pulse of the world out there, too, and with people whose lives might have seemed as if nothing ever should go wrong with all that physical health, money, and talent.  

But things do happen, and how joyful to see others try to overcome and that they succeed into their later years or else turn within the time given of shorter lifespans.  I might try Teresa yet this evening; she is not as mind-testing as Hildegard's visions.  For those, not only does one use the verbal spheres of the brain but also the image-related spheres--and yes, I know that "spheres" is not the proper term. I simply cannot think past the headache enough to grasp the physiological term--quadrant is not correct, either.  Hemisphere?  That is closer--lobe?  Maybe.

Well, uncommon or common, it does not matter to me whichever the term for a hermit who listens to and watches some impious YouTube videos on a Sunday afternoon when struggling with darkness, struggling with way too much pain of body and head--which I often categorize as separate from the body, depending on how severe the spinal headache.  Today's has it separated out, for it is too much for me to consider all that pain connected.

God bless His Real Presence in us!  Little children, let us love one another as Jesus loves us, whether we are common or uncommon to our views and perspectives.

Catholic Hermit's Field-Breaking

Well, just a note of reality therapy from this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit to any readers who read the previous post.  I got myself all worked up and enthused by the big boot-kick the Lord delivered through His Thoughts given centuries ago to Hosea the Prophet.

And then I got off the mattress and walked around, went outside, even, to see if the 1/2" cove molding I'd purchased to finish building out the trim around the French doors would work, to find it does not.  Plus, the trim I re-installed after switching out the slider for French doors, looks "off" because rather than trying to trim the siding that has to remain installed, I trimmed the trim wood to fit within where the concrete board siding had been.  So now the trim around the doors is not even.  It is off a bit, and of course my eye notices it easily.  Perhaps others will not especially when it is painted.

But the 1/2" cove does not fit properly to finish off the building out of trim.  The old farmhouse hermitage has 2x4" exterior wall construction, and the new, classy French doors I got from Craig at the lumber yard on a steal-deal, are the newer 2x6" exterior construction.  Thus I have to build out a bit of trim around the doorway.  Hmm.  I may have to rip some trim on the table saw, or use some other trim I have, but that might look odd given the fact that the rough side of the trim white board is up, not the smooth side, and all other trim I have on hand is smooth.

But what is the main glitch to this morning's desire to cooperate with the Lord's boot-kick of breaking up a new field for myself, at least physically to get into work mode again, is the awful headache, the right shoulder pain flaring from the two past shoulder surgeries, the right thumb at base by palm flaring up from drill-whip injury last December, and the low back radiating over to the liver area causing sickening pain, not to forget the pain down the legs and the feet as if on fire.

So today the breaking up the new field very much includes attitude and mind-set.  I am sure this is all intentional by the Lord--His Mind trying to get my mind out of the way so that He can replace my thoughts with His.  Breaking up new ground is not so easy if the mind is not His or at least if our own thoughts are not sublimating to His Thoughts.

And His Thoughts are always on that which is holy even if very much involving temporal details.  His Thoughts are always steeped with love and mercy.  So it is with mercy that the Lord Thinks, and I must get back up off this beckoning mattress and dig up some other trim options, something less than 1/2" and either small enough that smooth finish will not be so noticeable.

There are always options, and if the physical pain becomes too intrusive, then it is that the Lord's Mind Thinks this suffering servant ought to turn to simmering the neighbors proffered apples with some rhubarb from the gardens.  Break up that field--a far less physically demanding task.  The main Thought from the Lord is no doubt, today with the body as it is, that this hermit can also be sowing justice and reaping fruits of piety.  I can proceed in those aspects, yes.

Smile and laugh therapy time is at hand, also, in living out the Order of the Present Moment at Te Deum Hermitage!  Boot-kick the field-breaking in some interesting fashion or other!  Just wanted to share that while words expressed can sometimes make it seem easy, the reality can be challenging.  Breaking up a new field for ourselves takes spiritual effort and lots better if we remember Jesus is bearing the yoke with us.

Ash Wednesday Gratitude

This nothing Catholic hermit is so very grateful for those who read its thoughts.  Thank you, readers!  
Prayers and blessings to you on this Ash Wednesday!  May we all recognize the nothing we are and the All that He Is.

While what this Catholic hermits writes and shares is not profound nor erudite, nor intellectual nor critical with temporal information that changes the face of the hermit vocation, the sharing is hopefully adaptable to your life situations whether or not hermit or other.  Or, it may even be very good as a means of seeing what not to do, how not to be, and stirs your minds to far better living out in superior ways to the often trial-and-error strivings of this hermit.

It is true that living as a hermit with others about, or to be noticed and known to others as a hermit, or to have a superior near at hand--is quite helpful in order to be corrected quickly or even to be more motivated to strive to live up to a standard so that others will not be disappointed or to see a hermit-error lived out.  St. John Climacus points out the benefit to such hermits who live more among others for this definite advantage in keeping up hermit appearances--in a good way.

As for the solitary hermit (such as this nothing Catholic hermit is, especially these past nearly two years), the margin of error is increased!  It knows, for it has noticed the difference from even when it was able to go to Mass daily and receive the criticism of others, or the disapproval of priests, or even the kindly encouragement of its spiritual father.

This other--the more hidden, solitary Catholic hermit life--is much more difficult in the living out.  The nothing Catholic hermit can wallow about for lengths of time, while the will struggles to build some strength from the inside out.  Or it can start up some marvelous devotion only to falter...and then try to start again, yet slack again.  

The ego tends to collapse in a vacuum, not so much being around people, for who is there to notice how devout or how holy.  Is that the hermit over there?  Did you know so-and-so is a hermit?  I think a hermit should look and act like thus-and-so....  

And indeed, then the more visible and known hermit might be encouraged to pull itself up in order to not disappoint the others, or for whatever other reason--perhaps to avoid shame if the hermit is not living up to its vows that well.  Or the hermit might try to seem more adept at being a good hermit as it sincerely realizes others are looking and expect the more visible-to-others hermit to be specially good--based on those others' own notions of hermits--valid notions or not.  Being inspired and motivated by others can truly be helpful in spurring a hermit (or any pilgrim) onward in this journey.

But in the very solitary life of a nothing Catholic hermit, there is none of that.  It is only His Real Presence who sees, other than what the solitary might report to its earthly spiritual father.  "Only?" do you ask?  But the nothing Catholic hermit who is private and solitary, indeed has only God alone as witness and guide, encourager and enforcer.  And His Real Presence tends not to be forceful but instead is gentle, merciful, meek, humble, and ever so patient.  He allows the solitary hermit to crawl and doze, to stumble and also to pick itself up again.  He allows it to run, as well, including running away from the hard parts of self-discipline and sacrifice and self-renunciation.

But the solitary nothing Catholic hermit sticks with it, and that is by His grace.  His Real Presence strengthens through weakness, teaches through suffering, and encourages with unending love.  After awhile, the solitary nothing Catholic hermit learns to not need the esteem or glances of others, nor the expectations of priests or parishioners, nor the understanding of family in order to be motivated or to strive, to pick itself up over and over and to simply keep going. 

Cannot a risk of being a  very solitary hermit [these distinctions come from saints of yore who are considered by the Church for centuries as experts in the field] include failing altogether in one's vocation?  Perhaps so.  We really do not know of failures because those who have been very solitary hermits, not living among others as much, can remain unknown other than to God, long after their passing. But of the ones we do know through others having met them to report, or through their own writings, we learn that while their paths are quite challenging with missteps along the way, God never abandoned them even if it sometimes it seemed so to the hermit.

These other more solitary types of hermits of the past told or wrote of their experiences--the failures allowed by God and the triumphs graced by God--and over time endured in solitude. This current, aspiring, very solitary, nothing Catholic hermit is slowly learning to desire only to please His Real Presence Who does not expect other than abiding in His Love, from His beloved-even-if-misfit, nothing Catholic hermit.

God bless His Real Presence in us!  Little children, let us love one another!  Remain in His Love! Thank you again for the prayers of any sorts or types offered and for whatever touch of love we have one to another, through the personal thoughts expressed in this blog.  Much gratitude also for the readers from foreign countries who touch this hermit's heart from a distance.  God bless you all!