INSPIRATION FROM SAINT JOHN CHRYSOSTOM

 

Saint John Chrysostom

I have a lovely little red leather bound prayer book that I bought while attending a Ruthenian Byzantine Church, and I haven't looked at it once since I stopped attending that parish, and I wonder why, because it is precious, as in valuable. There are a number of carefully curated prayers, lists of holy things, simple instructions about how to do the different styles of fasting and abstinence, beautiful prayers to our Lady, the Most Holy Theotokos - all sorts of uplifting, and sometimes challenging offerings. I have decided to put it in my stack of favorite books - the books to which I refer daily. It just took me some time to get around to it. It was waiting for me. Kind of like God, I suppose, who waits for us to reach for Him.

While I was perusing it and admiring the beautiful gold-trimmed edges of each page, I found this comment on 2 Corinthians:

"Let no one then, even those who are come to the most
extreme wickedness, despair of himself. For even if you
have passed into the habit, yes and almost into the 
nature of wickedness itself, be not afraid...For he did
not simply say that He would wash us, but that He
would make us 'white as snow and as wool,' in order to
hold out good hopes before us. Great then is the power
of repentance, at least if it makes us as snow, and
whitens us as wool, even if sin has first gotten
possession and dyed out souls. Let us labor earnestly
then to become clean; He has enjoined nothing
burdensome."

I really love this quote because I often feel that I am one step behind everything that requires doing - especially during LENT. The physical pain and my newly acquired ungainly hobble frustrate me so that it is difficult, at times, to stay serene at prayer time. There are occasions when I feel an urgency to get it done NOW because I must put up my feet or I will collapse. It's frustrating, this tension that gets generated so easily. And then I wonder if the way I carry out my daily prayer schedule is as disappointing to Him as it is to me.

But then I read a short reminder like this one and I can breathe a sigh of happy relief because I am re-established in His Truth that He loves us and is not unduly testing us. Like the delighted Father that encourages the baby to walk to Him in its first steps on chubby little baby legs, He is not going to let us fall when we are struggling so earnestly to reach Him! Thank you, Lord, for giving us Saint John Chrysostom and the other holy ones who stand on the sidelines, urging us forward.

God bless us all.

Silver Rose

P.S. As some of you are aware, I am disabled, without family, and in three months, I will be 69 years old.  Social Security is about half of what I need to live, and every year I get further behind while the disabilities increase in number and severity. The car is a junk heap. Credit cards have piled up in a frustrating cycle of robbing Peter to pay Paul. For the last 20 years I have been unable to work (though I have tried various things and continue to slave over the novel and poetries.) Please consider donating to my paypal, above-right, or sending a little food from my Amazon wish list, below.  They have my address and can mail to me directly.

Just click HERE FOR FOOD DONATION

SAINT DOMNE EAFE, OTHERWISE KNOWN AS SAINT ERMENBURGA - NOVEMBER 19, 2022

 

Minster Abbey in Thanet, Kent, U.K.

It is a delightful surprise to see how much I am learning in my 60s, in comparison to other decades of my life. Part of it has to do with the availability of so many websites, especially YouTube, which is an excellent source of information for the "do it yourselfer" that wants to get all handsy with their household and/or creative ventures. There is no question that the internet has been an incredible boon for my artistic soul, AND a fabulous research tool for my writing, which used to require that I hop down to the nearest library. Likewise with my genealogy. It was much harder to do, as much legwork and location scouting had to be done with one's feet in the old days. 

Something close to my heart is the research I am able to do about the Saints, especially the grandmothers from whom I descended, but also the many royal and sainted cousins that, thanks to the history books for the various royal houses of Europe, I am able to trace through time. Today's saint, Feast Day November 19, is one of these. In the modern era, she is called Ermenburga, but based on the wide-ranging reading I have done about her, it appears that Ermenburga was actually the saints SISTER, and that the Saint under discussion bore the name "Domne Eafe." This name has been spelled variously down through the ages because spelling was more of a suggestion in the early days, rather than a hard-and-fast rule.

"Domne" was probably more of a title than a name, in fact.  Eafe, or some version of that, was likely her moniker. She is my 4th cousin, removed by many generations - I think something like 36, since she was born sometime in the 7th century.

She was the daughter of a king and queen, was married for a limited time to some kind of "sub king" named Merewalh, and gave birth to 4 daughters, all saints, and one boy child who died young. After her husband died, she devoted herself entirely to religion, as many women did in that era. 

Merewalh, her husband, has an interesting history. He may have had Welsh origins (Which forms a large part of my background.) The Welsh are an ancient and wildly interesting and intellectual Celtic people that fascinate me. I have considered learning the language at some point, but there is only so much a person can learn!

HERE is Merewalh's page in the Wikipedia website.

From her cousin, King Ecgbert of Kent, (to apologize for killing her young nephews to protect his throne) Saint "Ermenburga" obtained the land in Thanet, Kent for the building of a church and Abbey. The method used had an element of magic to it. She had a pet deer and was granted the amount of land that the deer would run across, and she ended up with quite a lot. (King Ecgbert was my 35th great grandfather, by the way.)

The inside of St. Mary's Church

Minster-in-Thanet

Kent, U.K.

Domne Eafe vowed never to marry again, and thus retired to the monastery she founded. One of her daughters was also Abbess there for some time.

I was DELIGHTED to learn that there is an order of nuns living in the Abbey at "Minster-in-Thanet." The place has changed hands a time or two but it is now under the care of an order of Benedictines.

In 1538 it was seized by The Crown. It was a private residence for about 400 years. In 1937 it was put on the market and an order of German nuns purchased it, and by some miracle they succeeded, in Hitler-era Germany, to relocate there, where they dedicated the place to Saint Mildred.

 This institution has a wonderful history of nuns producing various works of art. Can you imagine? This place has had holy women living in it since the 7th Century! 1300 years of prayers, work, and art.

An interesting newsy blogpost about the history of the nuns at Minster-in-Thanet can be found HERE.

One of the first things that occurred to me, of course, is how terribly cold that place must be. I wondered at the sturdy constitutions of the nuns that live there. I would make a lousy ascetic. I can barely stand to turn the thermostat below 68 in my apartment, otherwise my bones scream at me!

Speaking of screaming bones - I went to my parish today for the first time in several years, San Felipe de Neri, the oldest church in Albuquerque, and located very close to me. Once again, I bemoaned the lack of consideration for disable people that most public buildings demonstrate.

When I arrived I parked behind the building and displayed the placard that the lovely office worker had given me the day before. As previously instructed, I walked through the back gate and tried to get to the church through the gate that is just beside the front entrance, and I found that it was LOCKED. In vain, I rattled it a bit. No luck. So CLOSE to my goal, yet so far! Why does no one think about the disabled? 

The locked gate meant I would have to go back to the courtyard and enter the church through an interior door near the altar. But where was it?

There were about 10 doors leading off of the large brick courtyard, with nary a sign in sight. I tried a couple of the doors and they were locked. No one was around. I suppose this was because it was Saturday afternoon.

The interior of San Felipe de Neri

Fortunately for me, a nice older couple came tottering in and they pointed out one of the plain white doors and when I went in, I saw that it lead immediately into the church, just off the altar.

I was too late for confession - something I would normally do on a more regular basis, but I have been in too much pain to attend the last several years, and I was wary of Covid, since I have asthma.

By the time mass started 20 minutes later, the church was packed with people, and it seemed that every sick child in Albuquerque, who had a productive croupy cough, was sitting behind me. Only 4 people were wearing masks, including me. 

One of the sick children was coughing onto my cheek and my neck. I kept trying to move away from him, and he kept inching toward me, the phlegm in his chest noisily moving up into his throat. Several happy babies were gurgling and burbling and shrieking directly behind me, through the whole thing. I caught 2 or 3 sentences of the priest's homily. Between the noise of the congregation, the coughing and sneezing, the terrible sound system, and the Father's thick accent, I could not get much out of it - but that's the advantage of the Catholic mass. It is basically the same, no matter what day you go or which church you attend. Even if we can't really hear it, we KNOW what is going on. The priest is conducting the sacrifice and we are there with him.

As time went on, my arthritis pain increased more and more so that, by the time the good Father was finished with his homily, I thought I was going to die from pain. I had forgotten to bring a cushion, but I doubt it would have helped much. My bones throughout my body have disintegrated to a point that a measly cushion is pointless.

Soon, I realized that I was going to have to leave, otherwise I was not going to be able to make it to the car. After a lifetime of taking care of myself, and mostly living alone, I felt the real need for someone to help me - and the bleak reminder of my solitary state.

At an opportune moment, I got up and made it to the front of the church. I could not exit the way I had come, otherwise I would disturb the congregation. Because of that damn locked gate, I had to walk 3 blocks AROUND the entire church just to get to my car. 

Our society is FULL of locked gates that prevent disabled people from having access to most of what everyone else takes for granted.

Realizing that this was probably the last time I would try going to mass by myself, I kept reminding myself that soon the incredible pain of walking would be over and I would probably never have to do this again. One foot in front of the other, limping along with my cane. 

There were a lot of people on the streets, walking around, coming in and out of the shops, on their way to restaurants, enjoying a brisk autumn evening in Old Town. The sun was low in the sky. The chill intensified. I struggled to my car across the uneven sidewalk and then back through the dirt parking lot.  With great relief I managed to get inside my car and collapse, saying "thanks be to God!" many times.

On the way home, I gave thought to my spiritual life. I was disappointed not to have been physically able to stay longer and enjoy the Eucharist. It is a very special thing, but I was also keenly aware that Jesus had followed me into the church, sat with me in the pew, and accompanied me on my walk back to my car. He was with me on the drive, and later at home, and I felt His companionship, as I usually do. Sometimes, in fact, it is much easier to experience His Presence when the noise and activity of others around me is not asserting the distraction of random outside influences.

Jesus does not usually step in and fix all pains for any person. He saves his miracles for specific reasons known only to Him. I trust His decision on when to do this. I am not one of those people that whines, "why me, Lord?"  Rather, I have always felt, "why NOT me?" and felt lucky that my life circumstances are not worse than they are.

The important thing, for me, is that He accompanies me on my journey through life. He is in the pains and the pleasures, holding me in His love. He saw how I struggled, trying to attend mass for the first time in a long while. He was right there - encouraging me and loving me.

Jesus knows that if I could go to mass every day, I would certainly love to do that, but I have always felt, on the other hand, that the power of the Eucharist is so all-encompassing that if I have taken the Lord within me in such a way just once in my life, I have Him within me completely in an equal manner as if I had taken advantage of this Blessed Sacrament every day. The key is what is in one's heart.

I sometimes plan my days as if I am still that independent young woman who went all sorts of places by herself and took care of her own business just fine. Some aspects of this have changed - probably forever - and I think this may be what The Lord was demonstrating to me today. By the time I reached home, I had decided how I would pivot on this newly accepted reality. Until something changes, I will make the best of things and try to get someone to bring the Eucharist to me, when there is someone available to do that.

We do not know our limits until we test them, and that is one of the new things I learned in a concrete way today.

God bless us all

Silver Rose

Web sites:

My parish: https://sanfelipedeneri.org/

The Orthodox "take" on "Ermenburga: https://orthochristian.com/80901.html

Benedictine Nuns of Minster Abbey - https://minsterabbeynuns.org/1937-monastic-life-returns-to-minster-abbey/

Wikipedia article:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Domne_Eafe

Early British Kingdoms:   https://www.earlybritishkingdoms.com/adversaries/bios/aebbeminster.html

SAINT EDBURGA OF WINCHESTER - JUNE 15, 2022

 

Saint Edburga / Eadburh of Winchester

b. about 920, d. June 15, 960

My 31st great grandaunt

Today's saint is a great aunt of mine, the daughter of my 32nd great grandfather, Kind Edward I of England and his third wife, Eadgifu of Kent.

(I am descended from Edward and his first wife, Aelfflaed of Bernicia, whose daughter, Eadgifu of Wessex, was my 31st great grandmother. SHE was married to King Charless II "The Simple" of France, my 31st great grandfather.)

Edburga became a nun very early in life and is what is known as a popular "local saint," with several churches in her neighborhood dedicated to her. She was only 3 years old when she was given to the convent - something that would probably be considered a sort of child abuse in these days. They raised her and educated her, and she remained a nun for the entirety of her life.

There IS a fanciful story about King Edward placing the little tot on his lap and asking her to choose between some religious items and some frivolous jewelry - and she chose the religious items, which showed her aptitude and justified sending this BABY away to a convent.

She was credited with being a marvelous singer. Osbert's history, commissioned by the nuns of her convent, recounts that she was the "precentrix" there, which means that she was a type of female cantor and choir leader when the Office was chanted or sung. She would often remain long after the Divine Office was finished so that she could continue to pray quietly in private.

She loved to sing hymns and wore herself out in spiritual disciplines.

Well, thank you, dear aunt, for making us all feel completely inadequate!

Today I wore myself to the nubbins just getting myself and a neighbor to the local Walgreens to get our second Covid booster shots. It had been 10 months since I got my first one, and I did not want to run the risk of contracting Covid during this time when I am feeling particularly worn out.

I had to fold then lift my neighbor's walker into the back seat of my car, then help manage the lock on the passenger seat belt.

The asphalt of the store was vibrating with heat. When we got inside, I said to follow at a slow pace while I went to the pharmacy and announced our arrival. I had previously called and learned that we could just walk in and sign up for our vaccinations. 

I threw my cane into a cart and used it as MY walker,  as I made my way to the pharmacy, as my neighbor followed slowly after me. Eventually, they gave us each a clipboard. I finished mine and then did my neighbors as well, asking the questions on the form, one of which was "are you pregnant?" We had a laugh about that one.

They called  my neighbor in first, and in no time, it was done. Then I went in and chatted amiably with Alex, the really nice pharmacy employee. The two booster shots I have gotten at that pharmacy were much faster and less painful than the ones I receive from the people at the health department. I have to say I appreciate their technique!

Just getting my neighbor out of the car when we got home was almost impossible. It came close to my having to call 911 to get my neighbor out of the car and into the nearby apartment.

This is the last time I will be taking my neighbor with me on any errand because their  disabilities have reached a level where a personal assistant is needed, and I am just another disabled person. 

But I felt good that, despite the pain and exhaustion I was feeling, I had been able to do this last thing. After all, when you're suffering from Parkinson's, the last thing you need would be to get Covid, and I was happy that I was able to play a part in helping get this protection in place! However, doing this took a huge chunk out of my own day and my limited endurance, and I had already spent more than a dozen hours trying to get this person a medic alert bracelet which they now say they don't want. It is both an energy drain and highly frustrating.

When I finally shuffled back to my apartment, I fell asleep in my recliner for a couple hours. When I woke, I felt really awful. I couldn't even get out of the chair for some time and, in thinking of the events of today and the last few months, I felt disappointed that my life circumstances look so very different from the monastic life I had envisioned when I first became disabled. My life has devolved into a long struggle to survive and get ahead of the pain. It is one thing to "offer up" the pain and suffering, but one still has to overcome it to the extent necessary to perform the daily functions of life.

I realized I have to simply my life here at home and I have to start loving my neighbor in a less physical and more spiritual manner. God will show me the way.

May we all be blessed!

Silver Rose
Sannyasini Kaliprana

Silver Cottage Hermitage

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright and may not be copied for any purpose by any person for any reason, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

No copying for any purpose by anyone is allowed.

FEAST OF OUR LADY OF FATIMA, 2022

 

The thing I particularly love about the Fatima apparitions is that they were witnessed by multiple people. In the case of the picture, above, which appeared in a newspaper of the day, in 1917, thousands of people witnessed "The Miracle of the Sun" for which there was advance notice...thus the presence of all these people who watched the sun dance in the sky.

I understand skepticism about apparitions, especially some of recent note that appeared to be somewhat shady - but what about a miracle witnessed in the modern age by thousands of people and reported on by the media? What about that?

My personal "take" on miracles is they usually happen to strengthen the faith and the resolve of the people. I suppose they serve to interest others in the spiritual life, but for me, it gives me something to hold onto in my dark days.

Lately, I am having some dark days. Lots of pain, the disabilities are making it more and more difficult for me to move around, and I cannot do many things I used to be able to do. I fight off an uncharacteristic depression, and thinking about the miracle of the sun really helps to buoy my spirits.

FORTUNATELY, I can still write and paint. I am working on that novel and organizing my painting table so that I can start painting the series of small paintings from some photographs I have taken that feature the Southwestern sky.

I AM RESURRECTING THE JEWELRY MAKING: When I lived in Northern California, I used to sell necklaces that featured gemstones. I am now learning wire-wrapping and plan to be selling my things at a local store that takes their wares to an art show on the weekends. I will also sell to personal friends and readers of my blog who show interest. When I have a few things produced, I will post them here and on Facebook.

THE HOUSE IS IN CHAOS, however. I have tried for so long to get some help cleaning, and except for a few visits from a kind friend who brought me groceries and paper goods and did some of my dishes, I have no help. (You have heard this song before.) If I sell the novel and if it does well (likewise with the jewelry) I may make enough money to move into a more appropriate situation and pay for some help in the house.

BUYING A PROPERTY AND SHARING IT WITH OTHER RELIGIOUS LADIES had been my dream for years, but I am obviously having to scale back my dreams and goals. I will be 68 this year so, while I AM slowing down with age and pain, I have lots of plans for the future. I just have to make sure they are reasonable, attainable goals.

IN THE MEANTIME, IT IS TIME TO FLOG THE WISH LIST AGAIN: I try really hard to be as independent as possible, but there is only so much I can do. I regularly "fall behind" with food and vitamin items, so I offer here a link to my wish list:

WISH LIST FOR FOOD & HOUSEHOLD

THANKS SO MUCH to my readers for your help throughout the years. As you know, "the government" does not do much toward helping senior ladies like me. It is one of America's dirty little secrets. I have a couple friends here in town who help me whenever they possibly can, but I hate to have them burdened with me and hope that others will chip in a little bit.

I suppose if I had not been written out of my father's will after he got Alzheimer's or if I had been married to a financially stable man rather than spending most of my time as a monastic, things would be different for me, but we must deal with what IS, right?

With the observance of the feast day of Our Lady of Fatima, I feel confident it will all work out. I am being watched over and protected, and all of YOU are part of that.

God bless us all!

Silver "Rose" 

THE SEVEN YEAR CYCLE - UPDATE

 

"Appearances"

by

Silver S. Parnell

Copyright (c) 1996, all rights reserved.

My entire life has been devoted in a search for the Divine. No matter what my employment happened to be at the moment, my vocation has always been that of the spiritual seeker. 

When I was 11, I was corresponding with the Carmelite nuns in Carmel, California (much to the ire of my Catholic-hating mother!) In my late teens, I spent time with L. Ron Hubbard on his "Sea Organization Flagship." I studied Nicheren Shoshu Buddhism for a short while in my late teens, but found the chanting was not as mentally stimulating and spiritually inspiring as I would have hoped.

I had no religious input in my childhood, but as soon as I left home at barely 17, I entered onto the mystical and contemplative path, and I have loved every minute of it and I have learned a LOT about many different religions and philosophies, concentrating, for the most part, on Vedanta style contemplation which can be suited to any religion, really. The object of one's contemplation is what is key. Catholics will focus on Christ or God the Father or the Holy Spirit or Mary. Vedantists may fixate on Ramakrishna or another saint. The possibilities are  endless because contemplation and meditation are techniques.

I keep hearing from people that they believe that meditation is the process of "emptying your mind," but my meditation lessons with the Buddhists and the Hindus do not resemble that at all.

I have been blessed and extremely grateful to keep company with remarkable people like Zen Master, Roshi Prabhasa Dharma, beloved friend of blessed memory - and Swami Swahananda, probably the most influential person in my life, with whom I practiced and studied the mystical life of the Vedantic Hindus. When he allowed me to take the final sannyasa vows and gave me the monastic name of "Kaliprana", it was the happiest day of my life. Later, I became enamored of the Catholic mystics and began to trod that path. It has been a wonderful, rich, journey - full of joy and hope.

Swami Swahananda

My Hindu (Vedanta) teacher

About seven years ago, another Vedantist encouraged me to write a blog, as a way of gaining support. I have not received much "support" but writing this blog has helped give me an incentive to study my favorite saints and get back in the habit of writing on a daily basis. In the process, this HAS helped me develop research and writing techniques, as well as fed my soul with the examples of female mystics through the ages. Eventually, I began to feel fairly competent and realized that my lifelong writer's block with which I had struggled terribly, had been eased by the process of writing almost 400 blog posts.

At some point, I intend to take all the information I have gathered during my research for these blog posts and write a book about the rather more "unknown saints," accompanied by my own paintings of them. In the meantime, I was afraid that the posts themselves, which are a running diary of my days seen through the lens of saints who have feasts on those days, might be somewhat stale. I reverted them to draft state until I had a chance to review them and have decided to leave them "as is." They reflect what they are - a diary of thoughts, prayers, musings and research conducted over the years. The character of this blog will change and it will certainly be added to less frequently, but what has gone before will remain.

I am entering into a new phase. I have lost most of the vision in my left eye, due to macular degeneration, and the right eye is likewise threatened. I am faced with having to get shots in my one good eye in an attempt to retard the progress of the disease. The doctors tell me that I have to get a lot better nutrition than I have mostly gotten during all these poverty years and take some vitamins and supplements that I have not been able to afford. (More about that later.)

When I first became disabled, I had a vision of what my monastic life would look like, but, gradually, over the decades since I took monastic vows, It has been pretty much impossible to maintain a proper monastic schedule because most of my time is spent in the laborious process of dragging myself through my painful days and caring for the body which has begun to fail. The mind, however, is still fresh, and I have reverted to living my monastic vocation in imitation of Brother Lawrence, who said that he was as much with the Lord, among his pots and pans, as he would have been if he'd been talented enough to chant in a choir stall. My mind rests with the Lord, and "walking meditation" has become my constant habit.

I practice the presence of God. Lately, I have begun the habit of chanting the Angelus in Latin. The ideal is to do this three times a day, but I admit to being only able to do it twice, due to wretched insomnia that keeps me up all night. I also pray the Jesus Prayer of the Orthodox Church, as well as the Rosary of Mother Mary and Chaplets for various saints. Also, the Chaplet of Our Lady of Sorrows.

Blessed Mother Mary and Baby Jesus

by

Silver S. Parnell

Copyright (c) 2020, All rights reserved

Becoming a hermit was an afterthought. I never aspired to it. But circumstances forced me into that role and I have done the best I could with it over the last two decades. I hope that all the prayers and the pains that I have offered up on behalf of the world have found favor with The Lord.

Mystic Saint

by

Silver S. Parnell

Copyright (c)1996

All rights reserved

I have not even been able to have a caregiver in the house to help me because the agencies have no caregivers to send, except for the occasional ne'er do well who has had to produce a paycheck to show the court that she is working and thereby will get one step closer to getting her children back from the state. 

These people that occasionally appeared stole from me, harassed me and tried to push me around. Even the daughter of friends of mine managed to "disappear" some of my belongings, including a glass candle shade that belongs on my shrine, though I have no clue how she did that! Perhaps there is something about vulnerability that is too much of a temptation for people, or maybe she broke it and secretly threw it away and was ashamed to admit it.

I have also discovered that for some people, thievery is a way of life. Even when it risks much more than they gain by it, they steal.  It is an ingrained habit, apparently. So, it is perhaps better not to have anyone come into the house to help me. I will struggle along by myself, as I have done for more than 20 years.

A good friend of mine came by several times to get my dishes cleaned up. Since then, as a method of reducing the number of dirty dishes, I have resorted to eating frozen prepared meals because my back and knees cannot stand for cooking and cleaning.

At the same time, my Social Security income is really not enough to address my needs, and I have to try to improve my financial situation before I lose the rest of my vision. I am writing a novel, which I hope to be adapted to a film after publication. (I grew up in the film industry and wrote for television in my early 20's, so I am prepared for the pitfalls.) I also have plans for a series of paintings of New Mexico, my adopted state, and there is the possibility of a small limited line of art jewelry on the side, sold in a local store or online. I will have to see about that. 

These creative projects don't require that I adapt myself to any schedule and can be done when I am feeling well enough to sit and do them. These days, a week might go by when I am not able to do anything but get myself fed and bathed. The pain cycle has its ups and downs, often in response to the weather.

Lunch at the Vedanta Convent

during one of Swami's visits.

About 1989

A monastic schedule, on the other hand, is a more rigorous daily set of hours dedicated to specific spiritual disciplines. I can no longer pretend that my inability to keep to a schedule is TEMPORARY or that my health is likely to improve. Instead, my illnesses and syndromes are steadily worsening, and whatever efforts I make to improve the situation seem only to lessen the degree to which my health is going downhill.

I don't intend to change my lifestyle. I won't be going for boyfriends or husbands. You won't find me hanging out in bars or sitting through concerts. I will remain at home but I will give up the struggle to meet the requirements of a typical monastic schedule because I just can't do it any more.

The Lord will accompany me, as He always has, and it will be alright. I can still keep my mind occupied with Him in whatever activity I find myself. 

THE PLAN, GOING FORWARD

Originally, I had decided not to write this blog any more, but I have since realized that what I need to do is to cut down on the more ambitious elements of it. For instance, the research of the lives of the saints, for which I wrote quite a few biographies. That isn't necessary for an online diary that is, by definition, an account of things that have happened in the author's life - not in the life of someone who lived 500 years ago, or some such.

I have kept diaries constantly throughout my life, I enjoy doing it, and there is no reason I shouldn't keep it up - at least in a more modest form. It helps me come to grips with the daily challenges and is helpful to keep my writing abilities honed a bit. So - I will write when I feel inspired, and I am going to try to keep it more brief. Let's see how successful I am!

MY HEALTH COULD USE SOME HELP!

In addition to the wide-ranging arthritic conditions, the macular degeneration that is robbing me of my vision has been proven to respond to special diet and supplements, most of which I can not afford, and I have a wish list on Amazon for food, visual aids, and some necessary household items. Amazon has my address and will mail to be direct. Follow the link below, and it will be self-explanatory:

AMAZON WISH LIST

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO GET IN TOUCH WITH ME:

Please feel free to leave a comment on this blog and I will be notified. You are also welcome to contact me on my Facebook page.

Here is the link to my Facebook profile:

FACEBOOK - CONTACT ME HERE

God bless you all.

Silver S. Parnell

Copyright (c) 2021
All rights reserved.

GO WITH THE FLOW - Remaining Flexible in Response to Life's Alterations - New Year's Resolutions

FIREPLACE DVD

ARTIFICIAL CHRISTMAS "CHEER"

(I use this charming DVD throughout Christmas. I can listen to

JUST the fire crackling, or I can add Christmas music in the back-

ground. It is wonderful fun.)

My last blog post anticipated a pause in my blog posting, with the intention to review how I wanted to operate and whether or not I would continue blogging at all.

I HAD anticipated more use of the Facebook platform's "NOTES" section, but just as I began to shift my blogging to that arena, Facebook suddenly and without notice eliminated the "notes" function and deleted all the notes I had written over the years, as part of their revamped platform that is, frankly, nearly useless because it doesn't accommodate anything but the most superficial of interactions.  I am not happy about this, but I do not intend to waste any time complaining about it. I just have to adjust to the flow of reality and change the plan.

There are certainly more changes ahead. I continue to mull over the idea of starting a new blog or perhaps a YouTube channel devoted to teaching meditation. While these projects remain in the back of my mind, rattling around as possible long term projects, it has come to my attention that my aspirations exceed my abilities. As I have become more and more physically compromised by my chronic illnesses (despite special diet, exercise and supplements) many projects have fallen by the wayside. I have lost the vision in my left eye. The right eye may be next. I am keen to finish the art projects that rely on my vision and that can be done with one eye.

Even simple cooking is something of a bygone pastime, in that I no longer am able to coordinate a complete "meal" that gets cooked in a coordinated way.  Typically, I will cook one casserole or other large item like a stir fry that I then separate into freezable containers, but it takes quite a bit of time to clean the kitchen afterward, something that I am not able to keep up with. I am embarrassed to admit that my kitchen is in chaos most of the time. During Covid, I don't have an attendant - so I do the best I can.

Yesterday, it took me all day to clean the kitchen and cook a very simple meal for Christmas. I had decided I would make a (very rare) complete meal and then send a plate to the next door neighbor who has Parkinson's Disease and recently broke her hip. I made a roasted turkey breast that I cooked on a platform of lemon rings, with olive oil and spices placed under the skin. I also cooked some cranberry sauce that came out too sweet. Last time, it was too sour. I'll get the recipe perfected, eventually. Baked potatoes and lovely steamed broccoli were the vegetable sides, and I made some yeast gravy that pairs surprisingly well with turkey. 

By the time the meal was made, I was in physical agony and could barely enjoy it, but my neighbor tells me it was delicious "comfort food." I'm glad she enjoyed it, but I believe it will be the last time I do any serious cooking - until my attendant comes back, at least

When the Covid virus is less of a problem and we've all had the vaccine, I will feel safe enough to get an attendant back in the house again. In the meantime, I struggle to cope with my physical "issues.")

As a contemplative, why should I have any projects at all? Some people imagine that contemplative monks and nuns just float around the hermitage all day, praying and meditating and sometimes singing, but that is rarely the case. Always, there is work in the life of monks and nuns. One needs some kind of meaningful work, as a human being. It is just the way we are made. Our bodies and brains need work in order to function properly. It is part of what we are intended to do. Even someone who is disabled, as I am, must do some sort of work, even if we are not able to perform the typical functions of a paying job. SOMETHING has to grab our attention and involve a sustained period of concentration for the sake of producing some end result.

It is so surprising to me when people on the right wing of things, politically, make the insistent assertion that there are people faking illnesses so they don't have to work. Most people I have met enjoy working. Even jobs that are unpleasant often have some aspects to them that are appealing. Work, in itself, is not a negative. It is my understanding that several mental illnesses masquerade as "laziness." Often, people who are depressed will avoid work. I try to be compassionate and understanding about these things - and I recommend doing so.

Logically speaking, it isn't possible to fake an illness to the point of disability because the Social Security Administration sends applicants to their own government-paid doctors. You cannot fake blood tests. You cannot fake x-rays and cat scans. It's not like the disabled person can present a letter from his doctor saying he is disabled, and that's the end of it! NO. That is not how it is done. Yet there are thousands of people asserting that this is, indeed, what is happening and that our disability rolls are overfull because of these fakers. There is no evidence for this - but it is a popular lament.

Probably the same people are asserting that our votes are fraudulent also. It seems to be a theme these days. It feels very much to me as if people are trying to justify their prejudices and bigotry with fanciful tales of people "faking" all sorts of things. Our current president has never liked it when our journalists report on activities that he wants to hide, so he calls them "fake news." I find it too convenient, and it feels manipulative to me, especially now that he is claiming, with no evidence whatsoever, that the election is fraudulent. How the Democrats are so remarkably skilled that they successfully committed fraud with the presidential elections but totally failed to falsify the down-ballot that is really more important, is just beyond me, and none of the people claiming voter fraud can explain it, including the President who, despite all the experts telling him that he LOST the election by 8 million votes, still insists that he won and he won big. People who know him say that he isn't lying. He actually believes he won the election, which is scarier than the idea that he is deliberately lying.

Looking into the future, I don't think we will ever be rid of Trumpism, as he has many more supporters than I imagined he would have after witnessing all his crimes, lies and despicable cruelty. More than 70 million people voted for him and, while I will fervently resist taking on board Trump's malignant brutish approach to living beings, I can't face off against 70 million people. Trumpism is the direction that almost half of our people have, inexplicably, decided to take. Included among them are the white supremacists, the neo-Nazis, the conspiracy theorists, and the gun fanatics. Trumpism will live because Trump is actually a follower. He didn't invent any of the platform he espouses. He is a follower of other extreme right wing personalities. His hate-filled rants are the same stuff I used to hear on talk radio when I was driving around Northern California 20 years ago. People think that California is all liberal, but that is not true.  Much of Northern California is reminiscent of The Deep South, as far as political leanings and prejudices are concerned. In fact, I believe this is the primary reason that California has undergone several serious attempts to split the state in half, between North and South - but even Southern California has a huge evangelical and right wing population. Orange County and Kern County are two that spring to mind immediately.

My goal is to detach my mind from political goings on as much as possible. For this reason, I remind myself constantly that, throughout history, people of God have lived under brutish regimes. Look at what Jesus and his people had to contend with! Aside from praying to GOD that the love of Christ find a home in everyone's heart, all I can really do is vote in a compassionate manner and publicly object against specific cruelties. I have resolved not to spend any more time on this than is absolutely necessary. Unless Trump follows through with his threat to declare martial law and take the presidency by force, which would be an actual coup against our government, I have resolved to turn my attention away from him as much as humanly possible. One of his criminal associates that he pardoned has been advocating for an overthrow of the government, and this frightened me for a couple days, but I don't believe there are enough people in the military who are willing to embark on a treasonous course of action. They're not allowed to follow illegal orders, and they all know it, therefore I intend not to worry about this.

What we DON'T want to do is become obsessed with our political situation, despite the fascination we may have from the shocking things that are going on. At least, this is not my particular vocation in life, and I would hope that anyone following a similar path would likewise rest their minds and hearts in the Lord, in imitation of the mystics who have gone before us. Remember that life will present difficulties, and then we will die. In fact, meditation on death is HIGHLY recommended - in the Christian faith AND other faiths, like some types of Buddhism.

My general New Year's Resolution is to continue to simplify my life, regulate my ascetic and spiritual disciplines, and purify the mind, more and more. The artistic projects are of lesser importance, but they represent some of those things I need to sweep out of my way in my quest for simplicity. In particular, the clothing project is on my mind. I have already given to the poor about a dozen trash bags of clothing that no longer fits me. When I finish making the dresses and purchasing and making a few ancillary items, I will have greatly streamlined a major aspect of daily life and even reduced the amount of laundry I have to do.

When I became disabled, people started giving me a lot of things and I sometimes find myself with piles of things I can't use, and I have to give them away. I have learned how to say "no" when I don't need something - but didn't learn it soon enough to keep my apartment from developing a bit of clutter. This year, one of the resolutions is to present a more serene environment to the gaze.

I am going to try not to add any more resolutions because I have already seen how much I tend to overload myself with projects - so I am going to leave it here, for now.

Blessings to all!

Silver Rose

Kaliprana

NEW DIRECTIONS

 

I have enjoyed writing my diary entries and publishing them here, but just like yesterdays newspaper that today is used to wrap the table scraps for disposal, this blog has grown stale. I have less news to share, as the days wear on, because I am doing nothing but meditating and praying, creating art works, and doing some housework on the side.

The book I began years ago has ALSO begun to accumulate some dust, and I am beginning to wonder if I have enough interest in it to finish it - but, more important, whether or not there is anything of sufficient value to put out into society.

Most pertinent, however, is the fact that I have lost most of my vision in my left eye. It is as if I am trying to gaze through a puddle of water. This makes it very difficult to see my work here. I am still able to type without looking at the keyboard, but peering at the computer screen has become a headache.

The time has come to order my life toward accommodating the loss of vision. Thanks be to God, I don't need my eyes to meditate or pray - but everything else has become more complicated.

It is possible I will start an entirely NEW blog with another focus. But I need to rest for a while first.

In the meantime, feel free to wander over to my Facebook page and we can chat there. If you have any meditation questions, I will be available for recommendations.

God bless us all.

Silver

Sannyasini Kaliprana

SAINT ADELAIDE OF ITALY, MY 30TH GREAT AUNT

Saint Adelaide of Italy

(Sometimes called Adelaide of Bergundy)

931-999

My 30th Great Aunt

Most days of the year have quite a number of saints whose feasts we celebrate in the Catholic and Orthodox churches. Typically, the men are the most famous and get the most attention, while the women remain but a whisper in the background, which is why I like to concentrate on the female members of this august body, and I take great pleasure in the fact that quite a number of them are related to me. It is my hope that something of their holiness and sanctity travels down to me in our shared blood connection - our DNA. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

Saint Adelaide was the sister of King Conrad I "The Peaceful" of Bergundy, who was my 29th Great Grandfather. This family connection was researched primarily through history books and thepeerage.com, a thoroughly researched historical website that documents the families of the peerage of Great Britain and other prominent European families.

Of course, many of the women whose sainted reputations have been conveyed to us over the centuries, were also prominent figures in political history: queens and princesses. In fact, this particular saint is the patron saint of princesses, as well as abuse victims, brides, empresses, exiles, in-law problems, parenthood, parents of large families, prisoners, second marriages, step-parents, and widows.

I like to draw upon the power and dignity of figures such as these - women who sacrificed themselves for the greater good, usually for the sake of their country alliances as well as our God, and whose memory is retained in classical works of nonfiction.

Adelaide was one of those princesses who was offered up to a rival to create a more pleasing relationship with a competing kingdom, the first time at age 15, when she married Lothair II, the ersatz King of Italy, but this union barely had time to produce one child, Emma, before Lothair II died, probably of poisoning. Certain factions then tried to force Adelaide to marry the son of a Lombardy king who hoped to increase his power, but, after a few months of imprisonment, she fled to the protection of Otto I of Germany, instead, thereafter marrying him.

It is interesting to note that, breaking with custom, the Pope crowned her as Holy Roman Empress at the same time that her husband Otto was crowned Holy Roman Emperor. It says something about the esteem with which she was held in the hearts of the people of that day. They respected her, which is saying something, since women were typically nothing more than chattel in that era.

OTTO THE GREAT

Despite being used as a biological chess piece in the world belonging to men, it appears that Saint Adelaide's strong religious temperament had always been a feature of her character. She maintained a long and continuingly close relationship with Cluny, a powerful abbey in France, dedicated to St. Peter, and the center of ecclesiastical reform in that day.

CLUNY ABBEY

Saint Adelaide retired to a nunnery that she founded in 991, called Selz Abbey. She died on this date in the year 999, a handful of days short of the year 1,000 - the year that many hoped and believed would bring the second coming of Christ.  Yet, here we are, well into the 2,000 years, and no sign of Him. We could certainly use him now.

SELZ ABBEY

Even to this day, women who have discharged family responsibilities, outlived husbands (and sometimes children) are left wanting only God and, if they have money and can support themselves and a few other women, will start some sort of monastic institution and live out their days communing with the Lord. It reminds me of my current state in life, except that I live in an apartment because I am poor and can do little to rectify that situation, since I am also disabled.

While the typical trappings of the grand monastic life of a "retired' Holy Roman Empress are beyond my reach, a prayerful heart is not, so, like many of my readers, I continue on here, living the solitary monastic life of the accidental hermit.

As a person who has been subjected to abuse, I call upon the prayers of Saint Adelaide, the patron saint of abuse victims - which means that I ask her to intercede for me, just as I might ask you to pray for me, out of the goodness of your heart. I know that Adelaide was used as a pawn in the hands of the men, for the purpose of cementing political alliances and other considerations of earthly power, yet she maintained her devotion to the Heavenly powers above all else and, for this reason, she is inspiring to me.

Just this Saturday, I had occasion to call upon the sobriety and poise of a saint. I had to go to the grocery store.

Shopping is a generally traumatic event for me, mostly because of my physical disabilities and the pain and inconvenience they cause when I try to attend to my survival needs.

First of all, when I arrived at the Smiths Grocery on Constitution and Carlisle, I discovered that, although they had 3 or 4 battery-operated carts, one of them was completely dead and immovable and was blocking all the others. This is fairly typical of most stores that keep these handicap vehicles available for customers. You can tell by the manner of upkeep just how little they really care about the handicapped patrons and how little thought they put into our needs.





Since I was only purchasing 3 small items, I took the chance that I could stand in line with my cane and still make it back to my car. I was disappointed to see that, in that entire store, there were only two lanes that were open and had a human being at the helm. I am unable to deal with the computerized self-service checkouts and I also object to replacing human beings with machines, so I never get into those lines. Instead, I hobbled up to the closest line, which was clogged with people whose carts were overflowing.

There I was, leaning on my cane, carrying two bags of fresh cranberries and a tiny little smoked ham that fit in the palm of one hand. I smiled and commented to the man in front of me, "you'd think that on a Saturday they would open a few more lanes."

The man, who was about my age, turned to me with an unpleasant expression and informed me that, if I did't like it, I was free to stand in line at the self-serve. Perhaps he thought I was trying to get him to let me get in line ahead of him, when I was actually trying to make my waiting time in line as agreeable as possible and distract myself from the awful pain that was creeping up my legs.

Then again, I have turned into my grandmother, in some respects. When I was in my 20's, it used to embarrass me no end when she would turn to some stranger and strike up a conversation, but now I do it all the time myself. Everyone I run into in this world is my neighbor, either my neighbor in my apartment complex, my street, my grocery store or my town. They're my neighbors, and I am enjoined to love them, no matter how rude or inconsiderate they behave.

Typically, I will draw a slow, warm smile and continue chatting as if I do not understand or receive my neighbor's lack of charity, and that is exactly what I did this day. I didn't push myself on this man, however, since he was surly and I didn't want to aggravate him, but I DID call upon my sainted ancestor ladies for guidance and help getting through the line, with as much gravitas as I could muster. If I was a saint, what would I do? How would I behave? I ask myself questions like these during difficult times. I don't pretend to be successful in my efforts to emulate my sainted ancestors, but I do try.

I stood there, leaning on my cane, gamely smiling, for a good 20 minutes, while this man loaded a cartful of cans and boxes onto the counter. Not a vegetable in sight. It occurred to me that perhaps he was constipated, with a diet like that, and he was in a bad mood because he hadn't gone to the bathroom in 3 days. Then he handed the clerk a fistful of coupons. All of this could have been done with the computerized self-checkout that he recommended to me, so I also wonder why he did not avail himself of it. It's not like he had to weigh any vegetables!

It took a long time to get from the store to my parking spot. As I've explained before, there is not enough handicap parking at this location.

The pain was so great as a result of the physical challenge of standing in the grocery store, that I was unable to do anything but sit in my recliner the rest of the day. I could not cook a meal or clean my house, take a shower or  do anything on my feet. In fact, it was one of those days when I was unable to even change out of my clothing, and I ended up sleeping in the dress I wore to the store that day. I fell asleep in my recliner, exhausted, and woke early in the morning on Sunday.

Donald Trump mocks this disabled reporter

What is really needed is a low-slung van of some sort - a van that can be tricked out with a ramp onto which I could drive my electric scooter, so that I am not at the mercy of shop keepers and store owners. I cannot rely upon those people to meet my needs. I have begged for several  years now for funds to purchase a van and pay for it to be equipped for my electric scooter, but disabled old ladies without an exciting sob story get very little traction in the world of philanthropy. There are also a LOT of old disabled ladies living in little city apartments. America is not doing a good job of taking care of their elderly, and Americans do not care much about the poor, the disabled, the senior Americans, unless there is a great story attached. I am ordinary and therefor boring.






There is also the tendency of comfortable people to impugn the character of the poor. Whenever I talk about the poor, the first thing said is usually something about drugs, ignoring the fact that MOST poor people do not take illicit drugs and MOST poor people are NOT able bodied people who "refuse to work."

Then there is the Trump factor. I disapprove of Trump's lies, misogyny, and xenophobia, his prejudice against the disabled and other minorities; his criminal; unethical self-dealing; and his vulgarity. On top of all this, he is a terrible bully - mocking disabled people and others who are weaker and have less power than himself. He punches down, and I don't like it.

I have spoken frankly about this, at which point "Catholics" in real life, on Facebook and here at my little blog, have shunned me because of it. Even a donor in IRELAND took umbrage at my disapproval of Trump and withdrew her occasional assistance with increasingly passive aggressive, then angry emails. It is the first time in my life that people have snubbed me for a political purpose. I do not pretend to know the hearts or minds of people trapped in the Trump cult and won't venture a guess about motive or incentive, but it does seem rather small and peevish to me. Our American democracy celebrates our freedom of speech, among other things, and to retaliate against a handicapped woman for expressing a different political perspective is the antithesis of our democratic philosophy, and certainly does not comport with general Christian values.

Anyway, I digress. For whatever reason, my disapproval of Trump or my boring story, the point is that my efforts at begging have not been terribly fruitful and, although I am leaving the "donate" button on this blog, I have stopped flogging my GOFUNDME CAMPAIGN . It doesn't seem worth the humiliation.

For all these reasons, it is even more important for me to become better acquainted with the saints, many of whose lives were more painful, more stressful and more poverty stricken than mine (except for the empresses and princesses. THEY probably do not run out of food at the end of every month! Their sacrifices and trials were of a different nature.)  The saints typically offer up the difficulties - and many of them did, indeed, die much sooner than they would have if they'd had their survival needs met, but there is no indication that they did much, if anything, to take care of their health or longevity. I am usually pro-active about my health, but perhaps that is the wrong way to go.

My 30th great aunt, Saint Adelaide of Italy, whose feast day we celebrate today, may not have suffered privations, per se, but she was used as a pawn in a political chess match in which her body was traded for political power. I wonder if she really gave consent to either of her marriages. Her consent did not appear to be necessary at the time. Regardless, I look to her as an example of how to survive in this brutal world with a little grace and dignity, AND, especially, without losing faith! That is the most important aspect.

God bless us all.

Silver "Rose"

ADJUSTABLE BED AND OTHER BIG GIRL FURNITURE NEEDED

I came to New Mexico with only what I could fit in my little Toyota, thinking I could replace my furniture when I started working, but very soon after I got here, I became completely disabled and my Social Security is not enough to purchase furniture.

A friend from church gave me a recliner that I have been sleeping in for a couple of years, and a pink leather couch that I just love - but I desperately need a real bed that adjusts for my painful disabilities, as well as some furniture on which to work, write and paint and in which to store art supplies, paints, yarn, etc.

There is a neighbor in my complex who I can pay to put together the furniture. He used to do it professionally, lucky for me.

I have picked out the least expensive options that would work in my apartment. Amazon has my address and will ship to me direct.

Please take a look at my DONATION WISH LIST HERE

If you cannot afford any of the items on the list, but you would like to donate, please click on the PAYPAL DONATION LINK, to the right.

You know, most of my life I spent in a very minimalist style, living mainly on the floor, but I will be 65 this year, and I can't get up off the floor, once I get down there - so it's time to live like a grownup, don't you think?

God bless us all, and thank you.

Silver Rose

A PERSONAL NOTE

Garden photo, during a year

when we had some rain.

copyright (c) 2014

I am furiously working on all my creative projects in anticipation of the day when I will be too blind to do them. There are several conditions that are causing me to lose my sight, very gradually and, while I hope to stave it off as long as possible by protecting my eyes from the sun and avoiding strain, I want to do as many of my imagined projects as possible.

Currently, I am having real trouble even seeing that big 40 inch television that was given to me. I have to squeeze my eyes very tight, and even then, I can't make out very much of what is on the screen, though it is not far from my chair.

As most of you probably realize, Medicare doesn't pay for eyeglasses or dental work. Eyeglass insurance doesn't come anywhere near to giving me what I need.

Because of the complexity of my issues, I need three separate pairs of eyeglasses: One for computer work, one pair of really dark sunglasses, and one for daily activities and reading. The last two would be progressive lenses, while the computer glasses are measured according to how far from the screen I keep my eyes.

Each pair will cost about $250. I may be able to reduce the prices if the optometrist allows me to use some old frames that I have kept from years ago. Sometimes they don't want to do that, and they will not guarantee that they won't break them. I hope to use the old frames for sunglasses, at the very least.

Once I get the eyeglasses, I will need to campaign for some dental work, which I'm not looking forward to doing - but one thing at a time.

I realize there is a lot of need in the world at this time. So MANY people are suffering now! If I had any resources, I would definitely use those, but I don't. If you can give a bit toward my eyeglasses, that would be great. Please donate through the Paypal link on this page (above my profile picture.)

If you are unable to give, please consider telling your friends and/or posting my blog to your Facebook. I also have a gofundme page, if you'd like to use that. Just attach a comment to this post, and I'll figure out how to direct you to the right page on the gofundme site.

God bless you all!

Silver Rose

I WAS DISCRIMINATED AGAINST BY SMITHS MARKET EMPLOYEE

Yesterday, I stopped by Smith's Food on Constitution and Carlisle in Albuquerque. All of the handicap parking spots were taken. Several of the cars parked in those spots were not exhibiting any handicap placard or license plate. The lot was jam packed, and I was in too much pain to walk from the faraway spots that were available. I resolved to return the next day at an earlier time.

Today, I drove back to that market at about 10:40 a.m.  Again, the lot was packed, and handicap spots were few and far between, with all but one occupied. I noticed a trim and energetic young woman park in the spot reserved for pregnant ladies next to the handicap spot I was able to get, and then RUN into the market.  She was dressed in exercise gear. She had dark curly hair and appeared to be about 30 years old, or a bit younger. I called out to her but she ignored me. It reminded me that I had intended to speak to someone at Smith's about the parking situation for handicapped people.

I noticed two Smiths employees standing outside the market, apparently shooting the breeze. Perhaps they were on a break. One was very tall and of stocky build, with gray or blonde hair. The other was shorter, with dark hair.

Approaching them, I asked politely, "hey, do you guys ever keep track of the non-handicapped people using handicap parking? I see people using handicap parking all the time."

The tall man, with a derisive look on his face, said to me, "I believe in Trump's law. If you don't have two arms cut off or two legs, you're not handicapped."

The other man appeared to be somewhat uncomfortable by the tall man's comments. He shuffled his feet and avoided my gaze.

I said to the tall man, "Well, that's a mean comment!"

Still with an arrogant attitude, a cruel smirk on his face, he said, "There's too many of you." He continued to talk about how Trump feels about the topic of disabled people.

I asked him how we are supposed to get our shopping done. He said that we WOULDN'T.

His meaning was clearly communicated to me. He is one of those people that thinks that all disabled people are living off the dole and that we are sissies and not deserving of any kindness. CLEARLY he does not agree with the Americans with Disabilities Act, which is the law of the land, not some imaginary law of Trump.

His comments and hostile manner made my PTSD blow up. My heart started racing. I felt frightened, in danger, and prompted to FLEE.

As I left, I said to the man, "go back to Russia!" and I went into the store as fast as I could, given my limping, pained body. I would have gone directly to the manager, had the place not been exploding with people and had I not been suffering with a full blown PTSD attack which I was working on tamping down. I decided to report the incident later.

This blog is just the start.

Trump mocking the gestures of a disabled person

When Trump mocks disabled people in his speeches, he is mocking me. When he makes derogatory comments about the relative attractiveness of women, calling them "dogs" or "fat pigs," he is talking about me. When he brags about grabbing women "by the pussy" without their permission, he is talking about me. When he discounts the suffering of the disabled, he is talking about me, and when he likewise promotes the idea that poor people are worthless and criminally minded and a drain on society, he is ALSO talking about me. These lies that he spreads about the vulnerable classes filter down to cads like that guy at Smiths who treated me with CONTEMPT.

Trump has proposed and managed to effect many government measures that make the lives of disabled people much more difficult.  In addition to public policies, his lies and demeaning comments about vulnerable people, the disabled, the marginalized, women, the poor DO impact my life and the lives of other disabled people by emboldening his followers to feel entitled to bully us.

I am constantly being assaulted by Trump's ideas. My life has been rendered MUCH more difficult than it already is. People who are supposed to be giving me service treat me, not as a valuable customer, but as an unworthy person. They feel entitled to diminish me, mock me and hurt me; physically, financially and psychologically. My rights are continually being abridged or dispensed with entirely.

"When you give a crazed crying lowlife a break,

and give her a job at the White House, I guess it

just didn't work out. Good work by General Kelly

for quickly firing that dog."

~ Donald Trump, disparaging former female appointee

All of these indignities are being perpetrated against me while I am in awful pain, the inconvenience of which is compounded by mobility issues.

That stupid Smith's employee does not have x-ray vision. He cannot see that the valves of the major vein in my left leg DO NOT WORK. He cannot see that the valves DO NOT PUMP THE BLOOD THROUGH MY LEG and that, the longer I am standing upright, the more critical this issue becomes. The blood pools in my feet and ankles. The leg falls asleep and I gradually become more and more pale because of the improper distribution of blood. Often, if I stand for too long, I come close to fainting. I am not missing any of my limbs, but I might as well be, considering the effect.

That Smith's employee cannot see my scoliosis, or the fact that my left leg is shorter than the right, and that my right arm is longer than the left. He cannot know about the Ehler's Danlos type syndrome that affects all the collagen-based structures in my body, making me weaker than the typical person and more likely to fall and break bones, which I have done many times in my life. At this very moment, I am recovering from a break in a knuckle of my right hand, which became chipped when I fell. The x-ray showed a piece of bone, wedged in my muscles, causing me constant pain and reduced function. That Smith's employee cannot see any of that.

He cannot see that there is very little cushion between the bones of all my joints. When my doctor saw the x-rays, years ago, he said to me, "no wonder you're in so much pain." The doctors rely upon x-rays and other tests to diagnose me, but that Smith's employee thinks that his eyeballs are superior.

That Smith's employee perfectly demonstrated the gross and barbaric stupidity of many of Trump's supporters, who rely upon prejudiced and limited observations instead of facts. I had all my arms and legs, so I was therefore not disabled in his eyes. When he said, "there are too many of you," he was making reference to the Trumpian idea that most disabled people do not deserve the moniker, that we are faking it, that we have larcenous hearts and just looking to take advantage of more deserving citizens who work for a living, dammit.

Forget that I worked and supported myself for more than 30 years, that I am living on my Social Security insurance into which I paid money for everything I earned during 32 years. Forget that it is extremely difficult to retire early on your Social Security income because the Social Security doctors have strict standards of disability, and typically make you wait YEARS before approving you because the standards are so high and they make you jump through so many hoops!

Ignorant but opinionated people like that Smith's employee, who know nothing of the process, spread the rumor that all you need to do is lie about being disabled and "the government" just hands you money. When that man retires on HIS Social Security, he'll think nothing of it. He will think that it is somehow different than MY Social Security, that he "deserves" it but I don't.

Fortunately, the law is on my side, and I must have some kind of recourse. I'll let you know how it works out. In the meantime, perhaps it is best to stay away from Smith's Market in Albuquerque, at the corner of Constitution and Carlisle

UPDATE:

I called and spoke to the manager, Elena Sharbutt, who could not have been nicer. She too was shocked by the comments of that employee and assured me that those comments were unacceptable and do not represent the policies of Smith's. Several times during the conversation, she emphasized that I am a valuable customer and that Smith's wants me to enjoy my shopping experience. She was very warm and gracious, in addition to being efficient. She said she will look at the video. I told her the approximate time of the conversation and other pertinent details. We will talk again later, and I will keep you updated.

Silver Rose