For our Mother

When I say the Rosary, I feel I am immersed in the Ocean of God’s
love,
with Mary, the Star of the Sea, watching over me and all my loved ones.
My fingers walking the paths of the beads, heart and soul I am
transported
into the presence of the person I am praying for. I have no power to
comfort
but the Mother of God does and, by some miracle, I feel I really see them,
am there in spirit, a witness to Mary’s open and lovingly protective arms
as the very space they exist in. The stars fall to earth, the sky is her
garment.
There is no space-time as my brain conceives of them when I am
immersed
in prayer, and the universe Itself enfolds the soul I petition for like a
cloak.
There is no distance and separation – everything has its being in Divine
Love.
The “Big Bang” is a barbaric label for this infinitely tender unfolding of
joy
in Creation, a gift revealing how much God treasures us, seeds of His
heart.
The Rosary waters, soothes, invigorates my soul as exercise does my
flesh.
Yet a dead part of me resists spending time doing what appears to be
nothing.
In Truth, the Rosary is a lifeline. When I take it in my hands and hold it
gently
it pulls me up out of this world’s materialistic misery and I float
somewhere
between heaven and earth in my hope and in my longing for God
inseparable
from my love for Jesus Christ. I am discovering, have begun to
comprehend,
this is my deepest self. More profound than emotions, feelings and
thoughts
is this one pure need that has always been there inside me: to know
God exists.
Mary is the one who comforts us when we feel alone and hopeless as
we suffer
the trials of this fallen realm for she knows, in the end, our souls will
triumph
if we love and follow her Son, our Lord and God, who gives us the Holy
Spirit.

Amen.

A Tiny Spark

Waiting for Mass to start this morning, I closed my eyes and prayed. I said to God (I don’t recall my exact words now, so I paraphrase somewhat):

Lord, all that is good about me is my soul, because you created it, but it’s like a tiny spark that needs Your breath to gently blow on it so it can gradually grow bigger and stronger. Thank you for saving my soul, for rescuing it from being extinguished in the black embers of sin. I am nothing, Lord, just a weak, trembling mess of emotions and feelings and thoughts flickering to and fro; fluctuating in the slightest breeze. My only steadiness and bracing warmth comes from gazing upon You with love and longing. I need the breath of your Spirit, Lord, to keep gently blowing on me as I aspire to grow into a blazing fire of love for You. All I desire from what remains of my life is to become a strong, radiant soul burning with a powerful love for God so that, when I die, I will not be extinguished, but blaze joyfully, without a trace of fear’s cold darkness, straight into the heaven of Your Presence. Amen.”

The Mass began, and in my mind’s eye I saw a tiny flame held safe and protected in the gently cupped hands of my Savior. I saw His beautiful profile gazing down on my soul as He gently breathed on it. That’s what I am – a spark of Divine love my Beloved rescued from sin’s smoldering black campfire before it was extinguished. For as long as I have left to live in this world, I feel I will always hold in my mind this image of God as the Person of Jesus gently filling me with the Holy Spirit.

Powers of the Rosary

August 31, 2016

This morning in church, with my eyes closed,
listening to the chanting of those saying the Rosary
led by a woman, the atonal way she spoke,
in a rote-like manor, without inflection, each word
clearly pronounced yet delivered in the same almost
flat, unchanging key, evoked in my mind’s eye a vision
of a dark, choppy ocean, a close-up view of waves in
which I saw people, refugees struggling not to drown…
I felt the voices chanting the Rosary flowing into
that turbulent water and mysteriously supporting,
upholding the people, making it possible for them
not to sink but instead to be rescued, and saved.
The blind force of nature which otherwise would have
swallowed them up, was penetrated by the devotional chant,
a repetitive, unbroken, relentless flow of sound akin to,
but much more, than a natural force, for it was driven
by a meaningful intent serving to draw Divine Power
into the world, and making it easier for Angels to save
those in danger of drowning. Although “easier” is not
the right word, and nor is “possible”, I felt the repetitive
yet soul-filled sound was essential to securing the intervention
of supernatural forces. The chanting to Mary, Mother of God
and the Star of the Sea, merged with the dark depths as on
its unfailing conscious current the people floated, able to keep
their heads above water as they struggled and waited to be saved.

Hildegard’s Cosmic Tree

Today I began reading a novel based on the life of Hildegard von Bingen, and after just a few pages, a description of Hildegard’s vision of a golden sphere containing a living breathing tree made me think of a powerful lucid dream I had not long ago. And as I kept reading, I simply had to go find this dream in my journal. I then did a web search for “Hildegard Circle of Fire” and came upon this illustration by the Saint entitled “Cultivating the Cosmic Tree.”  I was blown away. I have never read anything written by Hildegard von Bingen, or seen any of her illustrations. Pretty much all I knew about her until today was that she composed music. Of course, I cannot prove I was completely unaware of the images she had made of her mystical experiences, but I know it’s true that I wasn’t, and I feel blessed that I had a dream vision which can be so perfectly expressed by this illustration of the Saint’s writings.

Dream of April 10, 2015—Circle of Light

I find myself lucid, as if in mist, surrounded by trees, although I can only see the smooth and sinuous gray trunks of a single tree directly in front of me. I want to go up above the trees so that I can study them, but I feel rooted to the spot. I close my eyes, and will myself to be high up in the sky. I’m feeling frustrated, because there’s no reason I should have to literally fly up there since this is a dream; I should be able to will myself into the sky. Then I feel a shift, and when I open my eyes again, all I see is very pale, almost white sky around me, and feel like I’ve made it very high up. But I’m still somewhat tethered to gravity as, very slowly, I spin around, making a full rotation. Then, as I drift gently along, I notice that I’m not as high up as I thought when I see, close by, the branches of a tree, with fresh bright green leaves. The tree must be miles high, and there are a few other exceptionally tall trees nearby.

Wondering why I felt the need to come up this high, I remember that I wanted to study the trees as a living field of some kind. There is some mysterious information up here—all the branches of the trees are like a communication field. Before long, I realize I’m surrounded by a circular field of some sort. It’s pretty big, but not so big that I can’t spin into the center of it, and see it all very closely. The encircling ring is in the shape of a zigzag pattern composed of a golden-orange light, a beautiful light made up of small—approximately as high as my waist—“pyramids” ^^^^^ all connected and flowing into each other. A Ring of Fire, and yet also of water, because ^^^^^ was the hieroglyph for water in ancient Egypt, so whenever I see it, I think of water.

I know I should study this ring of fiery light, so I continue spinning slowly in place. As I do so, I discern in the light what appear to be trees, and at first they all look like pine trees; like Christmas trees. These trees are contained in the glowing light, and I make out other species of trees within this vivid, molten, living light. And as I continue studying the light, I notice something else embedded in it, but rising a little above it—clear rectangles or squares reminiscent of glass fish tanks, but much more pristine, like crystals.

I then become aware of no longer being in the sky. A room has taken shape around this living circle of light, but the walls are all either in shadow, or are simply black. I curiously study one of these “crystal containers” inside of which float crystalline spheres. I don’t see any fish, instead I perceive whole scenes inside the spheres. Modern fish tanks are often adorned with little models of treasure chests, sunken ships, seaweed, etc., and what I see is something similar, but much more complex, subtle and detailed, and the scenes all feel related to humanity.

I wonder—Is this what’s holding me back, in the sense of confining me? Then I think—No, it’s not necessarily a limitation… my Father wants me to play. It doesn’t feel like a negative thing to have different pieces of the world contained in these crystal spheres, set into the living ring of golden-orange fiery light surrounding me like a great crown.

I now become fully aware of the room I’m standing in, which is empty except for this mysterious luminous ring. When again I think—My Father wants me to play—I suddenly find myself facing large double doors that extend from floor to ceiling. The doors are a dark-red color, and I immediately walk toward them. The ring of light around me does not confine me; I do not have to break through it to get to the doors. The doors open for me, and I enter another dream.

O Nobilissima Viriditas… “O most noble greenness, you whose roots are in the sun and who shine in bright serenity in a wheel that no earthly eminence can comprehend.” Hildegard von Bingen

Dogs and my Soul

Months ago I had a vision
driving back from the Vet
in which I saw my Lord
dressed in black walking
up our drive to St. Francis
accompanied by Merlin
and Arthur, my dear dogs
one dead, one in the car
with me blessedly healthy
and immune to my dread
of a future without him.
Sadness became a Sense
in which I saw my Lord
looking toward my mind
His gentle smile knowing
so reassuring to my soul
promising my dear pets
already are safe with Him
in a Life freed from death.
Then I saw the road again
just beyond the windshield
yet the daydream remained
more vivid than what seems
reality to my rational brain
accusing me of imagining
a miracle real as my heart
happy to embrace the Truth
of this unexpected blessing
peace a gift from my Lord
responding to my pure love
of sweet helpless creatures
I adore as God cherishes us.

Surely a loving relationship
between a human and a dog
is pleasurable to our Master
Who, Supreme above us all
in every conceivable fashion,
cherishes and gifts us treats
despite how dumb we can be.