Friday, December 9, 2016


There was always a
clamor for independence,
even when I was
little. When I got to
the seminary,  I think
it was the second year
there, one of the crazy
priests in charge ( cool
name of Colin Kahl,
S.D.S. -  those initials
were used after their
names, standing for the
'organization' they were
were in - the 'Society of
the Divine Savior,' known
as the 'Salvatorians.'),
had this big to-do going
with what was then the
'Senior' class, who'd
soon be leaving anyway.
He was always berating
them, in an angry tone
as well, as a group
(mostly when we all
had to be sitting
together in that dining
area I wrote about)
about their wishing
for more 'responsibility'
but not being able  -
when they were given
it  -  to carry it along.
I never even knew
what the issue was,
and it always confused
me, but evidently there
had been some great
mishap or something
about which this guy
in charge  -  clerical
Mr. Charley George
Wallace control type  -
was constantly haranguing
them for. Really, they
were just kids and he
was the guy in charge.
It couldn't have been
anything spectacular,
more like perhaps not
collecting the basketballs
or gym towels after a
game. People get things
all blown out of proportion
and go on and on about
manufactured issues
of no import  - I found
that out quickly. The
lesson I took from this,
actually, was in the
other direction : it
seemed to me that if
you were a person in
authority and something
went bad on you, perhaps
you should be haranguing
yourself. In any case,
the embodiment of
self-possession seemed
lacking  -  especially
as a six-foot guy in a
long black clerical robe
with gigantic beads
hanging down the side.
Did these people ever
look at themselves and
see how silly they
appeared? Why would
anyone then step forward,
looking so silly to others
-  in a secret costume
that seemed childishly
speaking in secret-club
riddles  -  and start
going at others. I was
immediately beginning
to feel dis-invited to
this party, totally less
and less inclined to
attend. Religion itself
certainly gets killed
with these small and
secret groups which
take control.
The best lesson I
took from those
seminary days
anyway was the
idea (or 'ideal) of
silence. I used to
love that, the entire
idea of non-communication.
It was all a waste
anyway. Most uttered
words and phrases,
in the course of
everyday life,
amounted to nothing
more than a 'pass the
salt' kind of rigorous
and lazy talk. Even
today, when I walk
among crowds and
groups of people,
riding this or that
conveyance, here
or there, it always
seems to me that
Humankind is  -
viewing it totally
as an outside, an
alien form  -
nothing more
than a blob of
organisms, much
like a swarming
virus, crawling
over things and
yapping and yawing
with their stupid
little noises. The
same sort of bird-yap
heard in a Winter tree's
population of waiting
starlings.  An endless,
meaningless noise
going nowhere. If
any of us have
'independence' or
'responsibility'  -
for something, for
whatever that would
be (these are each just
pale words and concepts)
-  it's most often unseen
anyway. A personal,
very interior thing.
We are not bodies, but
instead spirit souls.
We are minute particles
of a larger consciousness
dwelling within the body
and animating it. All
one has to do is be quiet
(for God's sake!), and
let it contact you, let
it seep into your Being.
Even God can't with
all that glitter
and noise.
In the same way that
a car is merely a machine
that allows the driver to
get from point A to
point B, so too is the
body but a machine that
allows the spirit soul to
act and to experience
sensations and thoughts
within the Lord's material
nature. Yes, you read
that right  -  God's nature,
not ours. It's only our
stupid pride that makes
us falsely think it's ours.
Once we realize that,
and understand our
true nature as spiritual
beings carried along,
part of the larger entity,
'Being,' (presence, time,
experience, consciousness,
understanding, sensation,
and the entire tactile
world, which is merely
a projected illusion
anyway), we can
make some headway.
We can understand
that we are meant
to serve, just as a
hand or a foot serves
the whole body. One
of the problems of
growing up was in
seeing that it's fairly
impossible for a
twelve or fourteen
year old  -  in that
time before they
themselves begin
acting like jerks  -
to tell an adult that
THEY are acting
like a jerk. It seemed
always that somehow
all that strife and
trouble was yet
ahead of me, lurking,
and that I myself
would have to be
passing through it
soon enough. It
made me fearful
to even bother
correcting someone
else over something
so apparent. The trap
of Life is this : we
forget our identity
separate from the
body and instead
misidentify ourselves
with it. Or we go
about identifying
ourselves, falsely,
by our sex, race,
creed or social level
(supposed). These
are qualities which
apply only to the
body, not the soul
- which is multi-level,
timeless, and beyond
all that. By this, we
forget our true
relationship with
the self-creating
world. As in reading
a book, getting
entirely caught up
in the foundering
pursuit of the
footnotes at the
bottom of the pages,
and not the pages
above at all. Pointless
drivel, like those
noises. We have
to see ourselves
as 'independent'
enjoyers of His
material (and
illusionary) nature.
And that  -  and
that alone  -  is
our 'Responsibility.'
Certainly not cleaning
up after the basketballs.
However, the paradox
also presented is that,
at another, passing
level, there is a
very great satisfaction
to be had in the
of doing that
'clean-up' perfectly,
quietly, and in a
total quest of
and satisfaction.
That's a bliss, and
it too is a path
always open to us.
The quest for bliss,
however, leads
most people either
to motel rooms or
to shopping centers.
False icons of
the dead world.

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