OFFERING THE PAIN OF DISEASE AS AN ASCETIC PRACTICE

 

Part of a Christian's spiritual program has, for centuries, usually included the imposition of some sort of painful, uncomfortable or inconvenient practice that imitates the suffering of Christ and thereby draws us closer to Him. Christ's pains were taken on purposely, willfully, in reparation for the sins of the world. He certainly did not merit the terrible punishments he received. He offered them to the Father in order to atone for our sorry selves.

Also, to the Catholic mind, humans are body and mind BOTH. We are not spirits who occupy a body for a time and then dispose of it when we die. IN FACT, we are promised that we will rise in our glorified bodies at the second coming of Christ. Our bodies are not awful things. We were all made in the likeness and image of our beautiful Lord but, due to the fall of mankind, the body's demands have become disordered and require tempering and balance.

Thus, part of the purpose of penitential practices is to gain control over the selfish and pleasure-loving body and ego and keep it in proper balance with our spiritual selves. Ascetic practices require and build the discipline necessary to the task. In fact, the instrument with which one whips oneself with cords, made from leather or rope, that is still used in some monastic communities, is itself called "the discipline."  Also a "scourge." 

John the Baptist wearing a garment of camel hair.

In the Middle Ages, pious people might wear a hair shirt under their clothes so that all the day long their skin would be pricked and irritated by it. Some of the saints recommend praying for hours with arms outstretched, in imitation of that agonizing position that Christ was made to take while nailed to the cross.

If one does not know the purpose of these practices and instruments of penance, it can seem odd to the modern mind, but I am not prepared to launch into a detailed explanation of the need for ascetic practice because I am usually writing for a community of people who are generally aware of the basics of Catholicism and monastic life. If you have stumbled across my blog, however, and you are not familiar, I will be happy to refer you to some excellent articles that explain these things. Just send me a comment here or find me on Facebook and I will be happy to speak with you. It need not be a public conversation, as I do not publish the comments I receive.

All sorts of things are considered penitential. Giving alms to the poor, for instance, is considered a penitential practice. Any time we give of ourselves, it involves some sacrifice on our part, and it can be considered to be a penance, especially if done intentionally.

20 years ago, when I became so disabled that I was no longer physically able to work outside the home, I decided to live as an independent monastic, in the tradition of a hermit, since my circumstances forced me into a semi-solitary state. My hermitage has to be located in a fairly urban area because my disabilities require medical supervision and care. The situation of an "urban hermit" is not the traditional setup, obviously, but the location of my apartment is somewhat rural, and it works for me.

Being physically disabled is not considered to be an ideal state in which to embark upon monastic life. It is a difficult life that requires a lot of discipline and a degree of penance, depending on the order one joins. I would never be accepted into a monastic institution in my current state or age of life, as I would be an increasingly inconvenient member of the community. 

In fact, 40 years ago, before I converted to Christianity, I was already beginning to experience some physical problems when I was a nun in a Hindu convent. Even then, I found it extremely difficult to carry out the many daily hours of physical labor that were required. I was often on the cooking schedule, for instance, making the one daily meal for the community of 12, with little or no help, and I remember having to endure quite a lot of physical pain because of all the standing. In fact, it injured me, and I spent a few weeks in a wheel chair, simply from the stress of it, as the disabilities from which I currently suffer were making themselves known at that time. This was inconvenient to the community and caused some of the women to become irate. It was a distressing situation that most monastic institutions are careful to avoid, when they can. 

Me, on the left, when I was in the Hindu Convent,

sitting with friends and the swami

If I had not left to get baptized and convert to Catholicism, I do not know how long they would have allowed me to stay, considering my poor physical condition. My intellectual and spiritual gifts were not in high demand. Half of the nuns were already seniors who were occupying the few jobs that were primarily of an intellectual nature. Their need was for young, physically able people who could keep us fed and the house clean and everything in good working order. This is not an unusual state of affairs for a monastic institution of any religion.

The nuns, eating our main meal of the day

(with the swami visiting)

We meditated a minimum of 3 hours per day, which was a delight, but the newer nuns were also required to do all the menial labor jobs, such as house cleaning, cooking, and that sort of thing. We also performed the daily worship services, which involved some gardening, hiking, and flower preparation. These positions were avoided by the senior members, but I enjoyed the quiet physicality, even if it did hurt my body.

I have always been a voracious reader, and while I was in that convent, I read all the books that were sold in the book store and our catalog by mail. The books by and about the  Catholic mystics and contemplatives, such as St. Teresa of Avilla and St. John of the Cross, Jane de Chantal and St. Francis de Sales tugged at my heart strings.

Saint Jane de Chantal

I read the Desert "fathers" and "mothers," as well as the modern writers, such as Thomas Merton. I couldn't get enough of the mystics! I realized that Catholicism had struck my heart in a way that Vedanta never could. So I left the convent, became Christian, and went back to work in a secular job as a legal secretary. But I always missed monastic life.

Therefore, when I had to retire early, it quickly occurred to me that I could replicate convent life for myself in my little urban apartment and live as an urban hermit, dedicated to God, and live a contemplative life, similar to what I had experienced in the Hindu convent, the schedule and setup of which had been modeled on Catholic contemplative orders. I missed monastic life very much and was thrilled at the idea that I might return to it, in my own fashion.

Saint Anthony the Great - Hermit

My inability to do physical labor would not inconvenience anyone but myself. Keeping a monastic schedule would prove to be difficult, of course. The older I became, the worse the illnesses grew. My Rule of Life had to adhere to the spiritual principles and aims of a monastic hermit life while at the same time accommodating my increasingly inconvenient physical condition. It took some time to come to grips with my limitations and to accept the fact that, like Brother Lawrence, who practiced the presence of God, I am not one of those "high class" monastics whose practice appears to be perfectly regulated to the typical standard.

With regard to my prayer schedule, I adjusted that to accommodate the fact that simply caring for oneself, without help, takes a terribly long time. My solution for that was to be flexible about the timing of my formal prayers and to "pray without ceasing" at all times of the day, through various methods. (I have dealt with this in my blog post about MY RULE OF LIFE, which you may find HERE)

The Jesus Prayer is dear to my heart, and I pray it throughout the day:

"Lord, 

Jesus Christ,

Son of God,

Have mercy upon me,

a poor sinner."

In the early stages of organizing my hermitage, I realized that, rather than having to artificially create pain or inconvenience to fulfill the penitential aspect of the life, I could simply make use of the terrible chronic pain and disfunction which I suffer naturally. I offer it to God in reparation for my own sins and the sins of the world. 

Since I live in an urban setting, albeit close to a rural area and the Rio Grande River, I do have neighbors and, although I do not seek them out for entertainment, I work hard to be helpful to them, when needed. These are small offerings, but they are intentional. 

In these ways, I have transformed, in my mind, what could be considered a personal disaster into a blessed life for which I am grateful. I am a living offering to the Lord, even though my living space has few of the accoutrements enjoyed by monastics living in traditional monastic quarters.

In the beginning of my hermit life, I was more physically able, and I regularly attended mass, but I am not longer able to do that, so I stream the Mass from various providers on the internet. I have no real spiritual support from my parish. I was finally able to get someone to bring me the eucharist at home, but it took a couple years of calling them and begging for it. 

UPDATE (5/26/25): Receiving the Eucharist at home did not last long. A few months into reception of the Eucharist, the woman who brought the Eucharist turned out to be suffering from something which caused her to experience bouts of terrifyingly violent explosions of anger. While driving back from an errand one day, with me in the car with her, instead of talking to me, she screamed and yelled and "talked to" other drivers on the road. She was irate at the way everyone else was driving. 

Suddenly, she stopped the car - in the middle of the street, with me in it - so that she could walk to the car behind us, stand outside it and yell at the driver of that vehicle! It was nerve-wracking for me, especially since I am particularly sensitive to unrestrained or savage scenes.

At my home, she set in on me with that same anger. I was sitting in my recliner, and she loomed above me - standing over me and yelling at me. I was afraid she was going to hit me or do something else violent. I did not allow her to return after that.

When I told the Deacon manager of homebound ministry what had happened, he told me he did not believe me because he knew she would never do something like that and that he would not be sending anyone else. His manner was cold and unfeeling. 

Telling me that I am a liar does not seem like a wise or Christian thing to do. It demonstrated to me that he is yet another person who is faking his religious sentiments. There is a lot of that sort of thing in America at this time. For some people, religion is a social construct and/or a manner in which some people find a position of power or prestige. Others find social connections by which they telegraph legitimacy and respectability. The love of Christ is absent.

The hard-bitten and cruel attitudes of Donald Trump and his minions are reflected in the attitudes and behavior of these people. If you are poor with no family and have nothing to bring to the parish, or if you are not a devotee of Trump, you are shunned.

But the more I am mistreated by these people, the kinder The Lord is to me. The vast lacuna of Christian friendship that the parish leaves behind is filled to overflowing with God, the Blessed Mother, the angels and the saints. I am especially blessed with many sainted ancestors in my family tree, such as Saint Margaret of Scotland and Saint Olga of Kiev "Equal to the Apostles."

Not all parishes are cold and hostile places - but enough are there to present a challenge when trying to make a connection with The Church when one is disabled and homebound.

"Anger is a kind of temporary madness"

~ St. Basil the Great ~

Some Catholic parishes shun and mistreat the poor and needy, disabled and senior who reach out to them, while at the same time they express wonder at why their membership is dwindling.

At any rate, you cannot live this life and be emotionally needy. As a modern-day hermit, one has to be confident in one's connection with The Lord and His love for you because the parish will not likely reach out to you unless you were well known to them prior to becoming disabled and/or you have a lot of family that belongs to the parish. Every community has its own personality, of course. I am just saying that lack of spiritual support from your church family may be one of those painful things you will have to offer up, if you embark on this life, and, even if you have no interest in becoming a hermit, disability and isolation may force you into that position, so you might as well find a way to enjoy it and embrace the vocation that has been thrust on you. God brings all things to the good for those who believe.

Saint Melania the Elder

as a Hermit

Another challenging situation to offer up is that growing disabilities make it more and more difficult to make one's hermitage look like a place of prayer. I have no help at home, even though approved for 28 hours of housekeeping services a week by Medicaid because there are simply not enough people available to do this kind of work. Every once in a while, someone is offered by the agency, but I have had to eventually reject these people, as most of them have had domestic problems that interfere or they were drug addicts, alcoholics, or generally unreliable.

I am learning to accept things as they are and to be grateful for everything, even though there are dishes piled up in the sink. Art projects and rosary makings, meant to supplement the income, present a colorful, happy mess on the art table. The mail has piled up because I am now blind in one eye, and it takes a long time to slog through it. The floor needs sweeping. But, in my mind and heart, I am in Heaven with God, our Blessed Mother, and all the saints and angels.  I am surrounded by the entire Heavenly Court, singing the Lord's praises and enjoying the consolations that being near The Lord bestows.

I predict that we are going to have a growing number of senior Catholics turning to this kind of life, as they grow older. Baby boomers are retiring at the rate of about 10,000 people PER DAY, many of them in fragile or ill health, and it has occurred to me that all of those who are Catholic could do the same as what I am doing. There are SO MANY resources in the forms of books and videos, YouTube talks, and  streaming mass that the guidance is available, even if you do not have a single human person leading you down this path. The ascetic practices become a natural outgrowth of one's normal life as a senior person.

Living as a hermitess is also considered to be, in itself, a penitential type of life. Many baby boomers find themselves alone at the end of their lives. Perhaps this vocation is meant to be.

Saint Marina

as a Hermit

Whether you construct your life as an "urban hermit" or a wife and mother, or a single working person, the method of adopting the intentional offering of life's sufferings as a spiritual practice can be used by anyone. You don't need a hair shirt or a scourge. Offer up all of the naturally occurring sufferings! In this way, all of it becomes spiritual currency. 

The emptiness of your life will be filled by Christ, His Blessed Mother, the angels and the saints, as it is mine.

God bless us all. 

Silver Rose

SAINT PAUL OF THEBES, THE FIRST HERMIT - JANUARY 15

 

Saint Paul receiving bread from the raven

that was purported to keep him alive to

be more than 100 years old

In a couple weeks, I will be celebrating my 20th anniversary as an urban hermit, so the topic is on my mind.

You know, I am always fascinated to read about the lives of these saints who were hermits, and there are quite a few of them in recorded history.

Paul is considered the first Christian hermit. We know about him because Saint Jerome wrote about him and Saint Anthony the Great, who had a connection later in life.  Paul is said to have lived to be more than 113 years old, kept alive by a raven that brought him half a loaf of bread every evening. I don't know what to say about that. I don't think I could be kept alive by only half a loaf of bread every night!

Paul did not initially intend to become a hermit. His brother-in-law wanted to grab his inheritance, so he was about to report Paul to the authorities for being a Christian. Paul went out into the desert to escape being imprisoned and killed but he eventually realized that hermit life suited him.

Obviously, he could not benefit from his inheritance ANYWAY, living in the desert like that, so it appears that he was not that attached to money to begin with, and his brother-in-law needn't have conspired to rob him of it. I find it interesting that I was also robbed of my inheritance and, although I was originally distressed about the injustice of it, considering the level of my needs as a result of my numerous disabilities, I have come to see that it might have turned out to be a curse, if I had not been written out of my father's will after he got Alzheimer's. I would likely have been hounded by people who were intent on grabbing what they could. Money is not the solution some people imagine it to be.  

I DO wish I wasn't a burden on friends, though. That is the one regret. On the flip side, I believe that The Lord has personally sent these kind people to me as his emissaries of love.

The person who robbed the inheritance will have to pay the price instead of me, I suspect. Anyway, the lack of the inheritance provides more opportunity for suffering that I may then offer to the Lord, and I should be grateful for the grace to endure it. I know it sounds backward to some people, but suffering is a type of spiritual currency. It is just ONE of the many ways that God brings all things to the good for those who believe.

Hermits, though they live alone, are normal human beings. They do have friends, but the nature of the relationships are not frequent or typical. Saint Paul became friends with Saint Anthony the Great during two days in Paul's 113th year!

Saint Anthony the Great and Saint

Paul of Thebes, the first hermit

Anthony and Paul only spent a day and a half together, and the next time Anthony went to see him, Paul was dead. There is a charming myth that two lions helped Saint Anthony dig Paul's grave.

I would have loved to have heard the conversation between those two holy men. I can only imagine!

There have been times, when considering my hermit life, that I have thought I should give it up because I am "doing it" imperfectly, but except for the rare moment of loneliness, I still feel that this life suits me, even if I am not a saint thereby. It is good for the ego for a person not to be too "successful," especially a religious person, it seems to me.

So I will slog along in my pathetic representation of a religious hermit, do the best I can, and be grateful for it all. When I celebrate my anniversary on February 3rd, I will be suitably humble before God.

The lives of the hermit saints bear little, if any resemblance to my life, but then the life of the typical resident of Thebes at that time looks nothing like the typical American in 2023! In addition to the differences connected with living a modern life, my numerous and growing disabilities also interfere with the aceticism one would usually expect from a hermit, so I do the best I can. The constant chronic pain is my offering and may be a more painful sacrifice to give than the more austere lives of these early saints. We all do the best we can within the conditions that are provided and the parameters of our own abilities.

Don't get me wrong. I have given it a lot of thought and wondered if I "should" give up the idea of the hermit life, but, although my religious practice is not perfect and, in some superficial ways, I appear to be a fairly typical senior lady of my time and place, I have no strong desire to have any other kind of life goal. I kept trying to see myself doing anything other than what I do now, and I just could not rustle up the interest! If I had wanted a more "normal" life, such as the other women I know, I surely would have tried for it long before my 20 year anniversary, don't you think?

Whatever defects remain in my daily practice must be battled and subdued, if possible, but in any case I will not give up the goal of gaining a more perfect union with The Lord through giving myself to Him alone, even if I fail in the attempt.  Please wish me the best and pray for me.

In the meantime, if you are interested in Saint Paul of Thebes, the First Hermit, and his contemporaries, or you are curious about early hermit life and lore, please take a look at the following links:

CATHOLIC.ORG

WIKIPEDIA.ORG - SAINT PAUL

WIKIPEDIA.ORG - SAINT JEROME

WIKIPEDIA.ORG - SAINT ANTHONY THE GREAT

WIKIPEDIA.ORG - SAINT ATHANASIUS

At some point, I believe that, such as with Anthony and Paul,  I would also like to develop a friendship with at lease one other hermit - especially an urban hermit. We have much to share with one another, I think - especially after 20 years of doing this. I also wonder if it would be a good idea to find a regular confessor, especially now that Covid is not as much of a problem as it was - but I suspect that I may wait another year before risking spending too much time outside the hermitage. God will bring what He wants for me.

I hope you will all pray for me, as I pray for you.

God bless and keep you!

Silver Rose

HOLY POVERTY DOES NOT WORK FOR DISABLED PEOPLE

 

PACKING TAPE COVERS THE HOLE THE

THIEVES LEFT WHERE THE WINDOW USED

TO BE

"Holy poverty" is something one learns to live with and, for the most part, I have adjusted to the limitations, but it would be a lot easier if I was not also variously disabled.

I have lived alone as a disabled urban religious for the last 20 years, surviving on my Social Security retirement income that I accumulated over more than 30 years of working as a secretary and office manager, something I did between stints in a Hindu convent. I also wrote for television in my early 20's, but the environment did not suit me and I left it behind.

Throughout my working life, I was battling poor health, mostly from what I now know to be inherited arthritic conditions, until I finally could not work any more and I had to stop. (In addition, I was suffering from long-term complex PTSD from several near-death and violent experiences, on top of Asberger's syndrome.)

My life has never been easy, but I have offered it up for the glory of God and, while I am happy to do that, it is still necessary to SURVIVE, something that is very difficult to do if one is disabled, mobility challenged, and does not have close family.

For some years after becoming disabled, I anticipated the inheritance my father had willed to me, but after he got Alzheimer's, someone took him to an attorney friend of theirs who did not know him, instead of the attorney he had used for decades who knew me, and that third person had me written  out of my father's will in favor of herself and her relatives. Shortly thereafter, he died under very suspicious circumstances. 

I was not notified that my father had died until after his body had been cremated. Shortly thereafter, the man who signed my father's death certificate went to prison for writing bogus prescriptions for people he had never seen. It is fairly obvious what happened here.  

I was even conned by another estranged relative who called me out of the blue and promised to get my inheritance back for me, but it turned out to be a conspiracy on top of a con job so that I could be pushed aside in favor of HER. That was more than a decade ago. There was nothing I could do to right these injustices. I had to acknowledge that I am too trusting and not nearly as clever as these people who were willing to lie, cheat, steal, and more, in order to grab money.  I had to just bless them and release them, knowing that The Lord will deal with them in His own way and I had to just move on.

A painting I did of our Blessed

Mother and Baby Jesus

Ever since that time, I have tried to supplement my retirement income by working at several types of crafts to sell, but without help to market and sell these things, I was unable to do it. One woman from church offered to sell things at a table during one of our church events, then she backed out after I had made a large supply of silver earrings because she realized she had misinformed me about the type of craft items that were allowed to be sold. A local store agreed to see my work, but when I finished producing the line to show her and/or sell, she backed out because she had gotten an influx of "vendors" into her shop and she did not even want to see what I had made for her! She had "too much stock." Recently, a very good friend generously offered to share her yearly craft table at a local fair, and I prepared a large number of things for it, but the day before the craft fair, her husband came down with Covid, and of course the whole project had to be scrapped. Between the tools and supplies, I had spent a good deal of money  - all for naught. I gave up on those projects and am donating everything to charity.

There are two creative projects left, both of which have generated some income for me in the past. One is a set of paintings I have designed, along with hand-made matching frames,  and the other is a novel I have been struggling to write. I was unsure if The Lord was wanting me to continue to strive forward with these, so I asked him recently, "Lord, please tell me if you want me to give up the creative projects and just devote myself to prayer alone" and within a minute, I had my answer. He gave me the introductory scenes and the denouement of a novel that had eluded me for two years! It was as if he handed me the entire project timeline from Heaven!  He just laid it on me in one fell swoop! My own personal miracle. I still have to write it, mind you, but He gave me those essential plot points that I've needed for so very long. Thanks be to God!

"Lady of the Stars"

watercolor I painted

The really wonderful thing is that the novel has an underlying spiritual dimension that could speak to nearly everyone. The story is realistic without being negative, uplifting without being saccharine. I will continue to work on it and hope to finish it this year.

IN THE MEANTIME, the recent upsurge in prices at the market, as well as incredibly expensive heating bills over the fall and winter, have left me absolutely "skint," as my British friends would say. Combine this with the deficit created by the money spent on the creative projects I was not able to sell, and you have a real disaster waiting to happen. I was robbing Peter to pay Paul, all the while hoping to somehow catch up.

That disaster happened today, when I had one more emergency than I was prepared to handle. My car's battery has died for the last time. It is not holding a charge. The battery was failing, and the recent freezing weather killed it. It is almost 30 years old, however, so I am grateful it lasted as long as it has!

To make it even more pathetic, the

car also has a flat front tire.

Batteries, along with everything else, have increased dramatically in price. The last time I had to buy a battery, it was $30. Now they are, at minimum, about $140. That does not include the labor to install them.

In addition, the back passenger window is still missing, the hole covered with tape. The front driver's window is permanently in the "closed" position because the mechanism broke some time ago and we did not generate enough money to fix it properly, so a friend of a friend opened up the door panel and tied the window in place. Now, whenever faced with a drive-through of any sort, I have to open the entire door. This is not a SAFE arrangement, but it will cost about $500 to install a working mechanism to lift the window up and down.

I am forced to create a GOFUNDME campaign to get the car worked on. I could actually use a couple thousand dollars to fix everything that is wrong with it, but I thought it better to ask for as little as possible, thinking it may encourage folks to donate, if it does not look like an impossible goal. I am actually hoping for more than we've asked for, but at the very LEAST would like to get a new or reconditioned battery.

I realize that my situation my not seem pathetic enough to some, but my survival actually depends on getting some help. I have done everything I can to help myself, to no avail, and I hope that my readers may find it in their hearts to contribute.

You can find my GO FUND ME CAMPAIGN HERE.

If you are unable to contribute, I ask that you to pray for me.

God bless us all

SAINT LIMBANIA - HERMITESS - AUGUST 16

 

SAINT LIMBANIA

Virgin, Hermitess

This post is a place mark, for the insertion of text at a later date.

SAINT WIBORADA - MY INSPIRATION OF THE DAY - MAY 2, 2021

 

    

Saint Wiborada of Saint Gallens Abbey

Died 926

I have recently been unable to post on this blog due to a broken computer and surgery for melanoma cancer and subsequent healing. The computer and I are in fine condition now, and I have returned to the musings.

Every day, I try to examine the list of saints who share the feast day. Typically, it is a list of about a dozen men. Every once in a while, one or two women will be included, but they're usually obscure, little-known women for whom not much is known.

Men have traditionally made a fuss over the saintliness of other men, while giving short shrift to the women.

In about 80% of cases, there is almost nothing known about the female saint mentioned, except perhaps if she is a virgin, which is made a big fuss over, but men are never congratulated for it in those lists of saints. Mostly, we will know that she is a virgin and rebuked the offers of marriage. That's the most popular story...that the parents wanted her to marry and she refused because she belongs to God alone - and then she goes on to become an anchoress, a hermit or an abbess.

But seriously - what about the men? Why is a man never lauded as a "virgin?" I really want to know why this is such a big deal for a woman but not even worth mentioning for men. Chastity is equally expected of all Christians (ostensibly), so why this stark difference between the men and women? Perhaps one of our readers will chime in with some information I've never read.

Wiborada and Bishop Salomon

The women we do tend to hear about are the wealthy ones who endowed convents and monasteries - or the women are are related or linked to a male saint of some renown. My response to all this is to ignore the male saints, except for my direct ancestors, concentrating on the more obscure women, taking their stories to heart and using them to inspire my monastic inclinations and doing my part to bring attention to them.

I look to the unknown saints - the silent ones - for inspiration about the monastic life that I am living alone because what I am doing is very similar to what most of them did, and that is to ignore the typical demands of our culture for women to attach ourselves to men and orbit around them, attempting to live in the reflected life of the glory of the male triumphs. This mode of life is so unique, that people often fail to understand the motivation.

I live for God alone, and there is little to no support for that idea in modern society. In fact, even religious who should know better sometimes consider it kooky - especially if it is a woman who has set foot on this path. They seem to quickly get over this reticence to dignify the aspirations of a female monastic if the woman has money and wants to endow an institution, which is how many of my sainted ancestors got support for their vocations. While women are dismissed out of hand in many cases, men are fawned over and revered without the jaundiced, critical eye customarily used when regarding the women. This sounds harsh, I know, but it is historically accurate, for the most part. (Yes, there are exceptions for every rule of life, but not many for this one.)

Obviously, ignoring women's accomplishments isn't reserved to the Catholic hierarchy. It is a cultural thing all over the world and has been for some time. Every endeavor in every arena is submerged in the idea of women's inferiority, and this has been going on for so long that even women have internalized this idea that they are naturally subservient peons. I think this may be why females have such a hard time supporting and encouraging one another. Instead, some women will try to destroy another of their sex who dares to attempt the remarkable. There is so little respect to go around that it puts us all into competition with one another. In response to this deficit, women have resorted to spreading rumors and engaging in petty and juvenile character assassinations, like the mean girls in the schoolyard. I feel sad about the number of times I have seen this drama played out.

At the same time, I have been privileged to know exceptional women who have transcended this sad reality. They are holy women - women for whom gossip and spite are far beneath them. They fly through life on angel wings. I would like to mention one of these women today.

Our dear friend, Iris, avid reader of this blog and sometimes meditation student, has left us. Unbeknownst to most of us, she suffered stage 4 liver cancer for the last year or so. She hid it from us, and I wish she hadn't, but I believe she was afraid we would try to talk her into cooperating with the doctors. I respect the wishes of others when it comes to their own health care, but I just wish I had the opportunity to say goodbye to her and to tell her how much her friendship meant to me. I would have welcomed the opportunity to help her transition to her new life in Christ. I ask that you all please pray for her soul. 

Today's saint appeals to me because she and I have some interests and conditions in common. First, she was a descendant of a noble Swabian family (now Switzerland.) I am also descended from Swabian nobility way way back in time, so at some point she and I shared some ancestors. (I am related to and descended from many of the European noble families because they were forever marrying one another. In fact, I am a cousin to myself many times over!) 

As a writer, I have always been mad about books, and Wiborada is the patron saint of libraries and librarians because she spent some time binding books for her brother, who was a priest.

Wiborada lived for some time with her brother Hatto at the Abbey of Saint Gall/Gallen. She made some of his clothes, and I am also a seamstress of sorts, having designed and made clothing for my own small clothing shop in Hollywood in the 1970's. I have lost most of my vision in my left eye, so it is much more difficult to sew, but I am gamely giving it a try, making some linen dresses for a simple monastic wardrobe.

Wiborada was also credited with visions and premonitions and predicted the Hungarian invasion of her region, which helped them hide the books (and the wine!) She refused to flee for her life, and when the Magyar marauders later reached St. Gall Abbey, they found her kneeling in prayer in her cell and immediately killed her with a blow to her head with a shepherd's axe. Because she played a pivotal role in saving the library and the lives of others while refusing to do what would be necessary to save her own, she was given the status of martyr.

Saint Wiborada is far braver than I. To be honest, I don't see me becoming a martyr under any circumstances, even though I have become rather accustomed to offering up chronic pain. Those of you who are disabled, in similar circumstances, know what I mean. Even though life can be excruciatingly uncomfortable when saddled with continuous aches, I am not anxious to experience the afterlife any sooner than necessary. There is a reason we have been given life, and it is important to live out our destinies here.

When I write about these female saints and draw parallels to myself, it is because it inspires me to improve my spiritual disciplines and, well, everything else too! The similarities draw my interest and attention to her, only so that the ways in which I fall short can be highlighted. Give it a try with a saint that appeals to you also and see if it doesn't produce similar results.

I have a request that you also pray for some special needs I heard about today.  First of all, a family that has not been together for a long time is looking forward to spending time together and traveling to another state. The mother is in her 90's, and who knows how long she will remain as she is? I am praying to the Lord that he protect all of them and facilitate a very happy and healthy reunion. This family is very special to me. Please pray for them.

Secondly, I know of a husband and wife from a former parish of mine who are currently hospitalized with Covid.  Evidently, the two of them had bought into the anti-vaccination propaganda of a certain section of the right wing. Consequently, they BOTH became quite ill and  are now hospitalized. I believe they are in their late 70's, and the wife had previously been a smoker, so her lungs are compromised. I just have this feeling that now is not the time for them to go. They need time. I think you know what I mean. Please pray for them.

Thirdly, there is a lady in my apartment complex who I have known for ten years, and she has become quite ill with some kind of dementia. She is on a long, slow slide, and it is painful to see. It is also very uncomfortable to deal with because she has become sharp, angry, critical and often hostile - especially when someone is trying to help her. She needs the help and wants it, but I think somewhere inside her she resents needing the help. She knows that her mind is "going." Please pray for her.

Fourth, I ask for your prayers for the wonderful people who recently bought me a new computer so that I could continue with my writing. I am more grateful to them than I can say. Will you join me in prayer for their welfare, that their generosity be rewarded?

As for myself, I ask prayers for healing. Since I last wrote a blog post, I had surgery to remove a melanoma cancer tumor from my scalp. It was much bigger than any of us anticipated when they first found it...but it is certainly smaller than the wound to Wiborada's scalp when the marauders split it with that axe! (Another fine example of how the examples found in stories about the saints help us to live ours!)

I hope you'll try to make use of the lives of the stories about the saints to help and encourage you on your journey, and please write us and let us know how it goes for you also! I would love to hear from you about this.

God bless us all

Silver Rose

SELFISHNESS

 

I took my dog out for our late evening potty break but was unable to use my electric "mobility scooter" because a large car had parked right on top of the handicap ramp that is the only way to have access to the majority of the parking lot and walking areas. I had to fight back groans of pain while I hobbled with my cane instead of being able to USE the scooter. 

The ramp was OBVIOUSLY meant for disabled people - but whoever parked there did not consider anyone else's needs and desires but their own.

When I got close to the back gate, I noticed that someone had left a car parked directly in front of and completely blocking our one and only fire exit. There is a wide expanse of space where they could have parked instead - space that would not block our fire exit. As I passed, I wondered why they didn't consider anyone else's needs and desires but their own?

A little further on, I was unhappy to see that the movie company that is filming outside our gates decided to install their outdoor toilet right up against our fence,  two inches from the access gate the residents use to take their walks along the irrigation ditch and down to the dog park and just two feet from my neighbors' front door. Again, there are acres of room out there and they could have chosen to toilet themselves AWAY from our doors, sidewalks and walkways, but they didn't. I could almost SEE the stench rising from the latrine .  I wonder why they didn't consider anyone else's needs and desires but their own?

As I turned toward home, I thought about how life "themes" tend to strike me within the daily happenings, and I can see a string of meaning - a life course, of sorts. The last few months, I have been getting teachings about selfishness. It is easy to recall many examples of it For instance:

Last week, a visitor parked their car in front of my garage so I could not enter or exit - and when I asked her to move, three people joined her in some very frightening intimidation, screaming and yelling at me, calling me vulgar names and making reference to my being "old." They kept me prisoner in my car for 20 minutes, blocking me from going forward by moving the traffic cone in front of my car and then leaning over the hood while they screamed at me and made filthy faces and hand gestures. It was a nightmare.  Their belief appears to be that their comfort and convenience supersedes the rights and needs of everyone - even a disabled senior lady who pays rent for that space the interloper misappropriated. Their own parking space is just a few feet further away than the one they covet, and apparently this is of great insult to them, these newcomers to the building who drive a vehicle that sports, in LARGE letters, the motto, "F - - K THE POPULATION," an anti-social modern saying.

I had an experience recently in which other shoppers have been so absorbed in their own mental processes that they have banged into me, jostled me, reached across my body to get something they wanted - and all of this happened during a pandemic in which consciousness of one's proximity to other people is really important. When I asked one woman to stop touching me and to give me some space, she stood over me and glowered at me. She was awfully tall - at least six feet. Most women aren't that tall, and I remember wondering if her height had helped to turn her into a bully. She must have been an awful creature on the playground. She refused to get out of my space, so I had to leave and circle back later for the vegetables I had been picking when she accosted  me.

This is how gangs take charge of neighborhoods, I imagine. No one wants to go near these anti-social cretins, so everyone is forced to just give them what they want.

Something that happens as you progress in meditation practice is the ability to see the condition of other humans - the darkness and preoccupation of their minds - and how cut off they are from consciousness. Selfishness makes these people spin around inside their own minds, orbiting around the mania of the moment. Buddhists call this "monkey mind."  It is a terrible ordeal and torment for them.

Lately, I feel surrounded by these lost souls, as I have had to go to the doctor many times for a skin cancer that needs to be removed, and I am out in the public much more than is customary. In the process of getting my medical needs met, I have had to interact with some of these "monkey minds" including that of a very young surgeon I met with yesterday. She was manic and used hyperbole to mask her lack of concentration. The "conversation" was disturbing, as she repeated answers to questions I had not asked, ignored some of the questions I DID ask, and misinterpreted some things I had said - ostensibly because she was not paying proper attention. Recognizing the signs of "monkey mind", I have scheduled an appointment with a different surgeon.

I was very glad to interact with a man at the Cancer Center who DID seem completely present and conscious - the man who had been tasked with pushing my wheelchair around the facility. He took some time to show me some of the art on the walls, and then took me to my car. I was sad not to have had any cash to give him and made a mental note to carry some with me next time I go to the hospital. Their valet parking and other services are "free" but I am sure a tip would be welcome. It was a psychic relief to interact with someone who was present and selfless.

Tonight, while I walked and prayed and thought, I held the dog's leash with one hand and the recently purchased cannister of pepper spray attached to my key chain in my other. I am idealistic, but I am also practical. Now that people have started aggressing on me, I need to be prepared. I had no idea that some disabled and senior folks are routinely faced with abuse simply because they aren't vigorous enough to defend themselves. It's a sad commentary on human nature, and one that gives me great pain to observe.

Cherishing the delights of being able to help other human beings, and mourning the loss of this ability, through disability and its resultant poverty, makes me very sad for myself but especially for these people who apparently are ignorant of one of the most dazzling pleasures that being human provides.

Of all the memories I cherish in my old age, it is the memory of the handful of times I have been able to help other sentient beings get some need met or some long cherished desire realized. I can't imagine a life in which this is not experienced, desired or pursued.

The beauty of selflessness, of loving one's neighbor, of kindness and consideration, is sublime - exquisite - and supremely satisfying. I pray that everyone gets to experience its pleasures because it changes one's outlook on life entirely. I am betting that all my readers are well aware of this, as you all tend to be highly evolved people, I have observed. Please join me in my prayer that the bullies of the world get to experience and be transformed by selflessness, something Jesus talked about more than any other topic.

Silver Rose
Sannyasini Kaliprana