I'm still working on this growth area, that of realizing I base my friendships on my therapeutic needs--but also on my friends' therapeutic needs.
I suppose a complete hermit does have therapeutic needs. Everyone does. It may seem harsh to use the term "therapeutic needs", but it will do in our age of therapy and therapists. Better terms might be "human needs" or "body and soul needs."
A priest e-mailed the three categories of friendships elucidated by Aristotle. The first is to have friends for the pleasure of being in their company. The second is for mutual need (and here he thought therapeutic needs might fit). The third and highest level is for the need of the other, such as Christ's giving Himself for our--yes, our "therapeutic needs."
Now, here is the goal, of course: get to the third level of friendship in which one lays down his life for his friends. This means to give ourself for others' therapeutic needs without the view or intention of gaining help for our own therapeutic needs.
A hermit needs to strive for this level of friendship for it is the holiest of friendships. Great trust in God is necessary, for we humans, hermit or not, need help for our own therapeutic needs. When it comes down to it, in all honesty, about everything is based on our therapeutic needs.
A friend of mine (of the second level at minimum) has endured much difficulty in a marriage over the years. Her husband has therapeutic needs, and his needs and her dealing with them are in actuality the basis of their marriage. Well, it is of course the unconditional love which is the base of the basis. But all the interactions are based upon the therapeutic needs, for until these are helped, there is not much else to deal with. Like a card game, until certain cards that have been dealt are played, there won't be opportunity for trump cards to be laid out.
A hermit is to be on the plane of a religious, a holy religious, that is. We are not to have too many superficialities, and the fact is that I cannot take pleasure in just being around people for the fun of it, for the physical suffering precludes fun like that. No, in order to manage the pain, I require depth; and ever since my death experience 20 years ago and being sent back to this life, I am required to challenge myself and others to plumb the depths, to seek the spiritual view in all matters and thoughts.
That I cry out in my "therapeutic needs" from time to time is an honest but not always welcome approach to carrying the cross. The soldiers snagged Simon to help carry Jesus' cross. I contact one or more Simons, for just one Simon would wear out as the way of my journey to crucifixion stretches out over years. Carrying my cross with me is too much for one person and requires a relay team of Simons.
I'm a Simon, too, and on a team of Simons for several of my long-time friends. What I have encountered in recent attempts at friendships since my conversion, is that they often have their own team of Simons, or they also are uncomfortable in admitting they have therapeutic needs. I suppose it is pride that makes a person think they do not have therapeutic needs. Jesus humbled Himself accepting not only death on the cross but also Simon's enlisted help in carrying His cross. Since Jesus could have done anything Himself, it seems this choice to have a Simon on the scene is a good word of healthy advice to all of us.
At the highest level of friendship, that of how Christ is friend to us in laying down His life for our therapeutic needs, we can strive to be this kind of friend to others. It requires much faith and trust, though, for underlying our being available to others' therapeutic needs, may be the motive that they will help our own therapeutic needs. No, we must trust that God will take care of our therapeutic needs in His own way, and it may be by a friend or a stranger's help, unrelated to our helping a person in therapeutic need.
Whether a hermit or not, humans have therapeutic needs. Elderly people are lonely and sick. Young people are lonely and sick. Well, not all people, but there is that element in life. Saints, I suppose, when they get to that degree of perfection, are not lonely for they are in Christ and have been crucified in Him so it is not they who live but Christ in them who lives.
This degree of perfection comes after one has lived in the second level (of mutual benefit) of friendship and has passed on into the third level of being selfless and other-centered. I'm not sure if a human being can be consistently at this level, but perhaps that is what the saints demonstrate, and Christ certainly showed the way.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
You Don't Seem the Type
Today when I took in to the Tribunal the witness form from my cousin, the woman handling the annulment asked a few questions and if I was going into a community. I said that I may at some point be canonically approved as a hermit for the diocese, but in the distant future, and I needed to be prepared if God so willed.
She said, "You don't seem the type!"
I explained that hermit types run the gamut from recluse to more gregarious and cited St. Philip Neri who was vivacious with people but also had his solitude and silence. His very life was a stricter separation from the world in his constant, intense, spiritual life.
The woman didn't seem to know who was St. Philip Neri. Oh well. I have noticed that using his hermit life as an example of one not a recluse, often draws that blank look with Catholics. But I'm sure there are others who know about St. Philip Neri.
To not look the type is a benefit in my particular call, for it ensures more hiddenness yet being visible in blendability. No one thus can look to me for answers, for I have few if any even though I spout off in my blogs! Mostly I have struggles that give way to progress.
Last night I thought more of what the VG said regarding friendships not being based on my therapeutic needs. I had come to an understanding, after spending four hours with a schizophrenic friend and her depleted husband, that my friendship is often based upon not only my therapeutic needs but those of others. My chronic pain requires friends who can be supportive through thick and thin; and I tend to be on-call for others in like fashion. My cousin sometimes will call and say, "I need therapy" when her mother has been rude. I give the therapy which includes spiritual views--and laughter, too. Often the situations are laughable.
My schizophrenic friend's delusions are not laughable, and even more sad is her resistance to getting therapy. She doesn't want to go to the hospital again. She doesn't think her delusions are delusions. I'm her friend for the long haul, as long as God wills.
Last night I prayed about being open again to my Protestant friends. I had determined a few years ago to develop Catholic friends, to have close Catholic friends. Evidently this was not God's determination, for other than the schizophrenic friend, I have no close Catholic friends. The erstwhile friendships have ended in women withdrawing, not able to comprehend or have the means to be empathic or even to come up with practical helps such as talking or visiting in order to distract me when the pain gets too intense.
Perhaps some of this is due to their being too busy, or not knowing just how severe the pain can be, for I look just fine enough. I mask the pain on the outside, but it sure sweats out in my writing, despairs, talking, and struggles. Other women have become spiritually envious or competitive. I find this exclusive to Catholic women, and I think the lives of saints makes them wary of those who are doing as we are told: imitate the saints. Imitating saints and being a saint do not equate, for imitating is not a perfect rendition, e.g. imitation gemstones or copying a fine painting. But the women don't seem to comprehend this fact.
Then, when it eases up some, I seem a different person. I have used my experience in suffering to try to bridge over to the schizophrenic woman, telling her how therapy can be so beneficial to give strategies to cope.
A major coping mechanism for me is to have others be supportive and listen, and then for me to do likewise for others. Love and love, love for love, unconditionally. After all, the extreme pain situations are not all the time. But perhaps that lends all the more to their misconceptions and lack of friendship based on "therapeutic needs."
I admit that I cried, privately, after my confessor said what he did, yesterday, after Mass. It means that he does not understand that I do not generally go on and on about my suffering, and that it is suffering and not therapeutic needs per se. Anyone with that degree of pain and no means to alleviate it except to suffer it out, year in and year out, would crumble during the worst episodes. And there ought to be people willing to help pick up the crumbs at those times. But from the tears came a greater comprehension of what it means to be a friend, including a friend based on other people's therapeutic needs.
In praying about friendships, I decided to be open to reconnecting to my old Protestant friends. It would mean that I could not discuss the love of my life which is Catholicism, and my very life, but maybe I had willed what God had not. None of the Catholic friendships had panned out, and twelve years worth of trying seemed a good effort.
This morning, an old Protestant friend called. We had not talked on the phone for a long time. She said how she had missed my friendship since I'd moved to a nearby city. Yes, I had moved in order to more fully embrace my Catholic identity. She didn't know this was the reason--that and to be free of town gossip and misunderstanding. It is not easy to convert to Catholicism in one's small, hometown. She has had back trouble now, for a couple of years. But even before, she had been extremely supportive and compassionate when I'd be ill with pain, she and a few other friends. They don't like Catholicism, and the slipped comments were painful to me, but now I am considering that since Catholic friendships have not been fruitful, it is I who had decided what I thought I needed.
We are going to get together for lunch sometime soon at a restaurant she likes because she can stand and sit at the bar using the tall stools, not having to suffer from sitting on regular chairs.
I think of what the Vincentian priest told me in confession last week, that hermits are to be very comfortable with all people God brings even if the hermit is not like them, is not of their world.
Part of being a hermit, I am learning, is that the life evolves with twists and turns. My path is the more hidden one, with no defined direction known to me. I have to keep going, brushing aside branches to reveal the path and the next steps to be taken.
The past does hurt, all the emotional wounds, and even now realizing that my spiritual father and I are about the only two who take my vocation seriously. I suppose it is true that I don't look the type, and maybe I don't seem the type--whatever is the hermit type.
She said, "You don't seem the type!"
I explained that hermit types run the gamut from recluse to more gregarious and cited St. Philip Neri who was vivacious with people but also had his solitude and silence. His very life was a stricter separation from the world in his constant, intense, spiritual life.
The woman didn't seem to know who was St. Philip Neri. Oh well. I have noticed that using his hermit life as an example of one not a recluse, often draws that blank look with Catholics. But I'm sure there are others who know about St. Philip Neri.
To not look the type is a benefit in my particular call, for it ensures more hiddenness yet being visible in blendability. No one thus can look to me for answers, for I have few if any even though I spout off in my blogs! Mostly I have struggles that give way to progress.
Last night I thought more of what the VG said regarding friendships not being based on my therapeutic needs. I had come to an understanding, after spending four hours with a schizophrenic friend and her depleted husband, that my friendship is often based upon not only my therapeutic needs but those of others. My chronic pain requires friends who can be supportive through thick and thin; and I tend to be on-call for others in like fashion. My cousin sometimes will call and say, "I need therapy" when her mother has been rude. I give the therapy which includes spiritual views--and laughter, too. Often the situations are laughable.
My schizophrenic friend's delusions are not laughable, and even more sad is her resistance to getting therapy. She doesn't want to go to the hospital again. She doesn't think her delusions are delusions. I'm her friend for the long haul, as long as God wills.
Last night I prayed about being open again to my Protestant friends. I had determined a few years ago to develop Catholic friends, to have close Catholic friends. Evidently this was not God's determination, for other than the schizophrenic friend, I have no close Catholic friends. The erstwhile friendships have ended in women withdrawing, not able to comprehend or have the means to be empathic or even to come up with practical helps such as talking or visiting in order to distract me when the pain gets too intense.
Perhaps some of this is due to their being too busy, or not knowing just how severe the pain can be, for I look just fine enough. I mask the pain on the outside, but it sure sweats out in my writing, despairs, talking, and struggles. Other women have become spiritually envious or competitive. I find this exclusive to Catholic women, and I think the lives of saints makes them wary of those who are doing as we are told: imitate the saints. Imitating saints and being a saint do not equate, for imitating is not a perfect rendition, e.g. imitation gemstones or copying a fine painting. But the women don't seem to comprehend this fact.
Then, when it eases up some, I seem a different person. I have used my experience in suffering to try to bridge over to the schizophrenic woman, telling her how therapy can be so beneficial to give strategies to cope.
A major coping mechanism for me is to have others be supportive and listen, and then for me to do likewise for others. Love and love, love for love, unconditionally. After all, the extreme pain situations are not all the time. But perhaps that lends all the more to their misconceptions and lack of friendship based on "therapeutic needs."
I admit that I cried, privately, after my confessor said what he did, yesterday, after Mass. It means that he does not understand that I do not generally go on and on about my suffering, and that it is suffering and not therapeutic needs per se. Anyone with that degree of pain and no means to alleviate it except to suffer it out, year in and year out, would crumble during the worst episodes. And there ought to be people willing to help pick up the crumbs at those times. But from the tears came a greater comprehension of what it means to be a friend, including a friend based on other people's therapeutic needs.
In praying about friendships, I decided to be open to reconnecting to my old Protestant friends. It would mean that I could not discuss the love of my life which is Catholicism, and my very life, but maybe I had willed what God had not. None of the Catholic friendships had panned out, and twelve years worth of trying seemed a good effort.
This morning, an old Protestant friend called. We had not talked on the phone for a long time. She said how she had missed my friendship since I'd moved to a nearby city. Yes, I had moved in order to more fully embrace my Catholic identity. She didn't know this was the reason--that and to be free of town gossip and misunderstanding. It is not easy to convert to Catholicism in one's small, hometown. She has had back trouble now, for a couple of years. But even before, she had been extremely supportive and compassionate when I'd be ill with pain, she and a few other friends. They don't like Catholicism, and the slipped comments were painful to me, but now I am considering that since Catholic friendships have not been fruitful, it is I who had decided what I thought I needed.
We are going to get together for lunch sometime soon at a restaurant she likes because she can stand and sit at the bar using the tall stools, not having to suffer from sitting on regular chairs.
I think of what the Vincentian priest told me in confession last week, that hermits are to be very comfortable with all people God brings even if the hermit is not like them, is not of their world.
Part of being a hermit, I am learning, is that the life evolves with twists and turns. My path is the more hidden one, with no defined direction known to me. I have to keep going, brushing aside branches to reveal the path and the next steps to be taken.
The past does hurt, all the emotional wounds, and even now realizing that my spiritual father and I are about the only two who take my vocation seriously. I suppose it is true that I don't look the type, and maybe I don't seem the type--whatever is the hermit type.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Abandonment to Reality
Yesterday I had no human contact or spoke to anyone until a woman after the evening Mass introduced herself and we chatted briefly. Then, I called a friend out of state whose husband has had some serious problems. The report is he is improving, thanks be to God!
It is good to have old and long-term friends, particularly for one who suffers a great deal, for others do not comprehend the pain and what it does to the energy level, the mind, the emotions. I don't have any friends, close ones, in the area other than a cousin, but she is not Catholic, and so that leaves off a chunk of deep sharing, but sometimes I venture into aspects of Catholicism.
There was a couple with whom I thought I could be more myself. My first instincts with the woman was that of not-so-sure. But after a year, I decided to trust. It has turned out that I should not, although there is only one way of knowing for sure, and that is to try opening up more, and then see what happens.
Today my confessor mentioned to me that friendships cannot be based upon therapeutic need. Well, in my life of so much pain, and then better times, and then more pain, and not knowing how long will be the ordeal, or if it will get better, and looking just fine on the outside--I do need friends who can endure for the long haul, as I'm in the business of suffering, for life.
And being a friend to me means enduring when I need to vent, to be distracted, for when the pain places me on the brink of insanity. And, I am a friend to others who would have need. But, I have time to be a friend. People in the active world do not have time except for friendships in which people can go and do, sit, eat out, chit chat, even if it is religious chit chat.
Somehow I suspect that the woman said something to my confessor, for she knows him well. She had said something about my pain and my discerning hermit vocation to a priest who is a friend of theirs, but I had not asked for his input as I don't even know who the priest is. I am not discerning the vocation, anyway; it is here, present and clear. I am discerning in what mode and means the Lord desires me to live it out, day by day. But, she gave the message from this priest that I could not possibly discern any vocation until I had the pain under control. It is never going to be under control when it rises to a point of such intense suffering and for a long duration, that one can barely hang on emotionally or mentally. Somehow the body hangs on! Then came an e-mail with descriptions of many people in horrible circumstances.
I've been at the suffering business so long that I know what the woman's agenda was, and it is a good one if a person is feeling sorry for oneself. But I was not. I was merely trying to endure through a long-lasting pain ordeal and spiritual despair along with it. But, I was thankful for her list, for I have been praying for the people on it. I offer this suffering all the time, for all kinds of intentions.
Anyway, it is looking more and more like I will not have the job, and thus not a good and selfless distraction. The VG is quite realistic about my pain situation, although I still think I'd like to have the chance to see if "doing" something more pro-active and spiritual for others would help me cope with the suffering. But I am a little bothered about the comment about friendships, for it seems he, too, does not comprehend. Or maybe I did not comprehend and have not.
The reality is, I do need people who can listen and be supportive and encouraging. My protestant sister who lives far away happened to call when I was in bed, and she knows some of what it has been for the past 23 years. She said if she lived here, she'd go to Taco Bell, bring some food over, and just sit with me and talk. Leave it to the protestants to come up with the right idea, works-oriented that it is. I wouldn't have been able to stomach any food due to the pain, but it would have helped get through an hour or so, and it does take a certain comprehension of suffering in order to journey with someone through chronic pain.
But the reality remains, that I do not have people close by and especially not Catholic people, and I know God allows this for a reason, and the only reason I can think of is that He wants me to be alone with Him, solus Deus.
And that brings me right back to the hermit life, and that my particular hermit call is defined within the confines of suffering. I must go by the present moment, and a woman with major mental struggles would like me to stop by this afternoon, so I will. Most of my offering is of self to others, but when I needed a little help and encouragement, God did not allow the people I thought, I hoped, would be friends in, yes, time of therapeutic need.
It is good to have old and long-term friends, particularly for one who suffers a great deal, for others do not comprehend the pain and what it does to the energy level, the mind, the emotions. I don't have any friends, close ones, in the area other than a cousin, but she is not Catholic, and so that leaves off a chunk of deep sharing, but sometimes I venture into aspects of Catholicism.
There was a couple with whom I thought I could be more myself. My first instincts with the woman was that of not-so-sure. But after a year, I decided to trust. It has turned out that I should not, although there is only one way of knowing for sure, and that is to try opening up more, and then see what happens.
Today my confessor mentioned to me that friendships cannot be based upon therapeutic need. Well, in my life of so much pain, and then better times, and then more pain, and not knowing how long will be the ordeal, or if it will get better, and looking just fine on the outside--I do need friends who can endure for the long haul, as I'm in the business of suffering, for life.
And being a friend to me means enduring when I need to vent, to be distracted, for when the pain places me on the brink of insanity. And, I am a friend to others who would have need. But, I have time to be a friend. People in the active world do not have time except for friendships in which people can go and do, sit, eat out, chit chat, even if it is religious chit chat.
Somehow I suspect that the woman said something to my confessor, for she knows him well. She had said something about my pain and my discerning hermit vocation to a priest who is a friend of theirs, but I had not asked for his input as I don't even know who the priest is. I am not discerning the vocation, anyway; it is here, present and clear. I am discerning in what mode and means the Lord desires me to live it out, day by day. But, she gave the message from this priest that I could not possibly discern any vocation until I had the pain under control. It is never going to be under control when it rises to a point of such intense suffering and for a long duration, that one can barely hang on emotionally or mentally. Somehow the body hangs on! Then came an e-mail with descriptions of many people in horrible circumstances.
I've been at the suffering business so long that I know what the woman's agenda was, and it is a good one if a person is feeling sorry for oneself. But I was not. I was merely trying to endure through a long-lasting pain ordeal and spiritual despair along with it. But, I was thankful for her list, for I have been praying for the people on it. I offer this suffering all the time, for all kinds of intentions.
Anyway, it is looking more and more like I will not have the job, and thus not a good and selfless distraction. The VG is quite realistic about my pain situation, although I still think I'd like to have the chance to see if "doing" something more pro-active and spiritual for others would help me cope with the suffering. But I am a little bothered about the comment about friendships, for it seems he, too, does not comprehend. Or maybe I did not comprehend and have not.
The reality is, I do need people who can listen and be supportive and encouraging. My protestant sister who lives far away happened to call when I was in bed, and she knows some of what it has been for the past 23 years. She said if she lived here, she'd go to Taco Bell, bring some food over, and just sit with me and talk. Leave it to the protestants to come up with the right idea, works-oriented that it is. I wouldn't have been able to stomach any food due to the pain, but it would have helped get through an hour or so, and it does take a certain comprehension of suffering in order to journey with someone through chronic pain.
But the reality remains, that I do not have people close by and especially not Catholic people, and I know God allows this for a reason, and the only reason I can think of is that He wants me to be alone with Him, solus Deus.
And that brings me right back to the hermit life, and that my particular hermit call is defined within the confines of suffering. I must go by the present moment, and a woman with major mental struggles would like me to stop by this afternoon, so I will. Most of my offering is of self to others, but when I needed a little help and encouragement, God did not allow the people I thought, I hoped, would be friends in, yes, time of therapeutic need.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
The Hermit Attends a Wedding
Does a hermit attend a wedding and reception following?
This hermit did. It was the wedding of a protestant friends' daughter with a Catholic young man who has not been practicing his faith. His family are very devout, however. So it must have been rather painful for them to witness the outdoor ceremony with Methodist minister who, well-intentioned, provided jokes and a banal ceremony. Yet, there were prayers, and the vows, and then the reception.
A Capuchin priest, a life-long friend of the groom's family, came from another state and was incorported into the ceremony by reading a meditation on love by Thomas a Kempis. He wore no cleric garb or monastic habit. I'm not sure why. Of course, the priests I know might not be willing to have participated in this type of ritual. I don't know.
A priest told me to attend and be a presence of the Church and to pray for conversions. I did.
And I observed much and listened, and tried to encourage others when at all possible, which was very little given the loud music after the outdoor dinner. I observed much love in this young couple, and much love and warmth in the families, but also a kind of division between not only the Catholic-protestant aspects but the socio-economic aspects of the two families.
I offer the suffering from sitting and the effort of driving for this young couple, for the groom to return to the Faith and the bride to convert. Now, wouldn't that be lovely? Yes!
In hermit life, intention and purpose seem key to discerning involvements and activity. I'm not sure how the situation would have altered had I been in a habit of some kind, or people had known I am a hermit. I knew both factions of the bride's and groom's families, since I grew up in that small town as a protestant and converted there as 44-year-old adult. It is probably best for me, at least until some time in the future if God wills, to remain more an undercover hermit, hidden from standing out as particular, and noticed only by ordinary presence.
I know the sentiments of the protestants toward the Catholics, and I comprehend the shock or grief of the Catholics given the "service" and "ceremony." Yes, it was of a different world and reminds Catholics of the depth and breadth of our Faith.
This hermit did. It was the wedding of a protestant friends' daughter with a Catholic young man who has not been practicing his faith. His family are very devout, however. So it must have been rather painful for them to witness the outdoor ceremony with Methodist minister who, well-intentioned, provided jokes and a banal ceremony. Yet, there were prayers, and the vows, and then the reception.
A Capuchin priest, a life-long friend of the groom's family, came from another state and was incorported into the ceremony by reading a meditation on love by Thomas a Kempis. He wore no cleric garb or monastic habit. I'm not sure why. Of course, the priests I know might not be willing to have participated in this type of ritual. I don't know.
A priest told me to attend and be a presence of the Church and to pray for conversions. I did.
And I observed much and listened, and tried to encourage others when at all possible, which was very little given the loud music after the outdoor dinner. I observed much love in this young couple, and much love and warmth in the families, but also a kind of division between not only the Catholic-protestant aspects but the socio-economic aspects of the two families.
I offer the suffering from sitting and the effort of driving for this young couple, for the groom to return to the Faith and the bride to convert. Now, wouldn't that be lovely? Yes!
In hermit life, intention and purpose seem key to discerning involvements and activity. I'm not sure how the situation would have altered had I been in a habit of some kind, or people had known I am a hermit. I knew both factions of the bride's and groom's families, since I grew up in that small town as a protestant and converted there as 44-year-old adult. It is probably best for me, at least until some time in the future if God wills, to remain more an undercover hermit, hidden from standing out as particular, and noticed only by ordinary presence.
I know the sentiments of the protestants toward the Catholics, and I comprehend the shock or grief of the Catholics given the "service" and "ceremony." Yes, it was of a different world and reminds Catholics of the depth and breadth of our Faith.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
The Complete Hermit Cries
This misty moisty morning the fog hovered over Lake Immaculata. The complete hermit awoke, in pain, as usual, and thought through aspects of life, praying for various people, situations, and self.
There is much evil in the world.
There is much sorrow, and I looked to the statue of Our Lady of Sorrows on the table next to the bed. I placed my special, bed-rosary, Connemara marble, on my wounded heart.
Thoughts turned again to the reality of lost and distanced friendships, of the huge gap between one who is not in the world and thus through the on-going ordeal with physical suffering, of the suffering from obstacles and persecutions from some parts of the Body in the Church, of how on earth would I handle the job, of how on earth I will handle the rejection of the job, of my mentally ill friend and her pale and thin husband, of if I can or should make it to a Protestant friend's wedding to a fallen-away Catholic this evening in a nearby town and if I even want to deal with all the people and sitting and chatting, of what I need to plant and where in the Mary Garden--and then great sobs erupted, breaking the morning reverie and parting the mist on the pond.
I sobbed only for a minute or less, crying out, "O Lord, I am so depressed, so depressed. Help me endure." Then I thought about what the priest from Goa told me in confession yesterday. He said to tell Jesus to cover me in His precious blood, to help me not despair. So I got up and said I must simply keep going, and then aloud asked Jesus to cover me in His precious blood.
There is no use for anti-depressants, for these do not block the realities and the situations, the physical pain that reduces a person's life to that of existing inbetween worlds. There is nothing but death that is going to separate the body from the pain that the Lord has given as my constant companion while on earth, for He has spoken: While on earth she will know earthly pain.
There is no use for therapists, for if I shared the pain and abuse and assaults from my fellow Catholics over the past 12 years, I would be told to get out of such an ordeal. But we are to imitate the saints, and to be crucified with Christ, and St. John the Baptisti, St. Mary Magdalen de Pazzi and St. Padre Pio would say, along with my Irish Spiritual Da, "It is your cross. Pick it up! PICK IT UP!"
There is only use for complete reliance upon God, to live the Psalms of Friday Night Prayer of the Divine Office.
Now the complete hermit has eaten some toast, drunk coffee, and paid some bills on-line, written a couple of e-mails of encouragement to people. Next to don the gray jumper and head out to the Mary Garden, water, plant, and praise God for the start of another day at Agnus Dei.
This is the real life of a real hermit in a real place as a really rather dismembered member of the real Catholic Church, praying to be a real child of God.
There is much evil in the world.
There is much sorrow, and I looked to the statue of Our Lady of Sorrows on the table next to the bed. I placed my special, bed-rosary, Connemara marble, on my wounded heart.
Thoughts turned again to the reality of lost and distanced friendships, of the huge gap between one who is not in the world and thus through the on-going ordeal with physical suffering, of the suffering from obstacles and persecutions from some parts of the Body in the Church, of how on earth would I handle the job, of how on earth I will handle the rejection of the job, of my mentally ill friend and her pale and thin husband, of if I can or should make it to a Protestant friend's wedding to a fallen-away Catholic this evening in a nearby town and if I even want to deal with all the people and sitting and chatting, of what I need to plant and where in the Mary Garden--and then great sobs erupted, breaking the morning reverie and parting the mist on the pond.
I sobbed only for a minute or less, crying out, "O Lord, I am so depressed, so depressed. Help me endure." Then I thought about what the priest from Goa told me in confession yesterday. He said to tell Jesus to cover me in His precious blood, to help me not despair. So I got up and said I must simply keep going, and then aloud asked Jesus to cover me in His precious blood.
There is no use for anti-depressants, for these do not block the realities and the situations, the physical pain that reduces a person's life to that of existing inbetween worlds. There is nothing but death that is going to separate the body from the pain that the Lord has given as my constant companion while on earth, for He has spoken: While on earth she will know earthly pain.
There is no use for therapists, for if I shared the pain and abuse and assaults from my fellow Catholics over the past 12 years, I would be told to get out of such an ordeal. But we are to imitate the saints, and to be crucified with Christ, and St. John the Baptisti, St. Mary Magdalen de Pazzi and St. Padre Pio would say, along with my Irish Spiritual Da, "It is your cross. Pick it up! PICK IT UP!"
There is only use for complete reliance upon God, to live the Psalms of Friday Night Prayer of the Divine Office.
Now the complete hermit has eaten some toast, drunk coffee, and paid some bills on-line, written a couple of e-mails of encouragement to people. Next to don the gray jumper and head out to the Mary Garden, water, plant, and praise God for the start of another day at Agnus Dei.
This is the real life of a real hermit in a real place as a really rather dismembered member of the real Catholic Church, praying to be a real child of God.
Friday, August 31, 2007
nullity of marriage
Yes, as a hermit of a different diocese informed me, and now verified by a canon lawyer, in order to be "canonically" consecrated, one must have nullity of marriage. However, private consecration does not require the annulment.
The next step, then, is for me to activate my annulment file at the Tribunal. I have made the call, and they are checking the file to make sure all information is up-to-date regarding witnesses. Sadly, the only witness who knew me before my marriage and during the marriage, knowing my ex-husband, is a woman with severe pain in her wrists and who cannot write without great difficulty. (She has pain elsewhere from a virus that settled years ago and caused permanent damage.) Hopefully she can do this writing required on whatever forms.
It is, at minimum, an act of charity for my ex-husband who has been remarried for years, in case he would ever desire to convert to Catholicism. He hates Catholicism, but in God all things are possible such as changes of heart and mind.
The physical suffering continues to be immense to the point of difficult to manage the attitude and to not despair, but one must simply keep going. The priest, the canon lawyer, and I had breakfast, as he is returning to Nigeria soon, and he said that a job such as working for the Office of Spiritual Develpment would, in his view, be quite consistent with my hermit rule of life. Yes, it would incorporate some solitude, but definitely stability, selflessness and very much suffering, for I would suffer much in enduring the consistency of the work when the pain is high.
Now I must try to plant two or three plants in the Mary Garden, and then rest again using ice packs. These seem the best for ameliorating the pain. I am increasing almsgiving and trying to be proactive in attempts to stave off despair. During the night I e-mailed another priest who somewhat knows my interior life and circumstances, although he cannot comprehend what it is like, for only those within their bodies can comprehend suffering for themselves. However, I did emphatically state that only God can sustain me, and that God is enough. I'm back to that.
The next step, then, is for me to activate my annulment file at the Tribunal. I have made the call, and they are checking the file to make sure all information is up-to-date regarding witnesses. Sadly, the only witness who knew me before my marriage and during the marriage, knowing my ex-husband, is a woman with severe pain in her wrists and who cannot write without great difficulty. (She has pain elsewhere from a virus that settled years ago and caused permanent damage.) Hopefully she can do this writing required on whatever forms.
It is, at minimum, an act of charity for my ex-husband who has been remarried for years, in case he would ever desire to convert to Catholicism. He hates Catholicism, but in God all things are possible such as changes of heart and mind.
The physical suffering continues to be immense to the point of difficult to manage the attitude and to not despair, but one must simply keep going. The priest, the canon lawyer, and I had breakfast, as he is returning to Nigeria soon, and he said that a job such as working for the Office of Spiritual Develpment would, in his view, be quite consistent with my hermit rule of life. Yes, it would incorporate some solitude, but definitely stability, selflessness and very much suffering, for I would suffer much in enduring the consistency of the work when the pain is high.
Now I must try to plant two or three plants in the Mary Garden, and then rest again using ice packs. These seem the best for ameliorating the pain. I am increasing almsgiving and trying to be proactive in attempts to stave off despair. During the night I e-mailed another priest who somewhat knows my interior life and circumstances, although he cannot comprehend what it is like, for only those within their bodies can comprehend suffering for themselves. However, I did emphatically state that only God can sustain me, and that God is enough. I'm back to that.
Tis True
I can see now that the designation, the validation, the ceremony, the habit, the being set apart and maybe even respected and known for the life one is to lead if a consecrated eremitic, is all very important. It is a good for a diocese to have hermits who they offer as a sign of that life.
But this is not what God is allowing in my life, here. Maybe some day, but I doubt it. Here the eremitic life is not viewed, or else I am not viewed, as necessary in that particular structure. My spiritual father called, and I explained how much pain I am in, and this not only physical but Catholic pain. I said they are not taking my vocation seriously, and yet God continues to slice away, heading me deeper into my dual vocations.
He says he supposes not, that they don't take it seriously. But if God does, then I must, too.
But this is not what God is allowing in my life, here. Maybe some day, but I doubt it. Here the eremitic life is not viewed, or else I am not viewed, as necessary in that particular structure. My spiritual father called, and I explained how much pain I am in, and this not only physical but Catholic pain. I said they are not taking my vocation seriously, and yet God continues to slice away, heading me deeper into my dual vocations.
He says he supposes not, that they don't take it seriously. But if God does, then I must, too.
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