WATCH WHAT YOU WATCH

"Satan knows that he has lost the soul that

perseveringly practices mental prayer"

~Saint Teresa of Avila~

The news is full of very distressing occurrences, both natural and artificial. Wide spread and uncontrolled Fires in the Amazon that threaten "the lungs" of our planet; copious bits and filaments of plastic found deep within the ice caps which we'd hoped to find pristine; torturous conditions for wee little children at the border in facilities likened to concentration camps; sudden, previously unannounced deportations of children receiving life-saving medical care at several of our hospitals; the reversal of ecological measures meant to save the planet; and a president whose lawlessness, moral and ethical bankruptcy, erratic behavior and cruel policies have given rise to a credible concern that, in addition to being a scofflaw and con man, he may also be suffering from some sort of dementia or insanity: these are all matters that provoke anxiety, and it is natural that our attention would be drawn to them.

I've always advocated for peace and justice and fought against evil. Even when I was a child of 11 or so, I was marching in anti-war demonstrations. I still believe that it is important to promote the values around the themes of peace and justice. My lifelong devotion to these ideals dovetail perfectly with the commandments of Christ, so much so that when I read the words and life stories of the mystics and the rest of the saints, I felt I had come home at last. For me, Jesus embodies the perfect combination of contemplation and peaceful action.

Saint Hildegard of Bingen

Spiritual enlightenment in action

My personal mental hygiene also entails paying close attention to the balance between staying informed about the day-to-day events, on the one hand, and attending to the Lord, on the other. Ideally, we should all be like Brother Lawrence, keeping company with God while managing the material world in an holistic action of body and soul.

Saint Joan of Arc

She brought her Lord onto the battlefield.

In this age of distressing political events, with a background of scary ecological consequences of our selfishness and what it means for future generations, I remind myself constantly to view all of it with the eyes of the Divine and to stay established in the peace of the Lord. For those of us with PTSD or anxiety or other similar issues, it can be a challenge, but it is very much possible.

Saint Margaret of Scotland

Queen and Saint

Beloved of her people.

My 29th Great Grandmother

Tending the inner garden with one's mind on the Divine can be done, and I want to encourage all of you to join me in that space where we are all one, and where we can work together for peace and justice and the enlightenment and sanctification of souls.

While you are coping with each new horror that is announced, don't forget to connect with the rest of us who are likewise inclined to the Divine. We can draw strength and courage from one another in that transcendent space.

God bless us all.

Silver Rose
(Sannyasini Kaliprana)

Silver Cottage Ashram Hermitage

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Copyright © 2019

All rights reserved.

MEDITATION ON JOB

Our old Catholic Church in Old Town, Albuquerque

(copyright (c) Silver Parnell)

For some time now, my life has taken on a tinge of terrible. Whatever can go wrong, does go wrong, no matter how right I behave. I had started to become glum. Was I under some kind of curse? Was I being punished?

Never to be one who gives up easily, I put aside these depressive ideas and practiced my "breathe and smile." I centered myself and, in an orderly fashion, began to clean the kitchen, reciting the Jesus prayer in my heart, while I slowly washed the dishes, pots and pans.

Breathe and smile. Breathe and smile.

"Lord, Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy upon me, a poor sinner."

Breathe and smile. Breathe and smile.

"Lord, Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy upon me, a poor sinner."

The story of Job came to mind, unbidden. Job's life went wonky, not because he was a bad person, not because he was saddled with sin, but because The Lord was so confident of Job's love for him that he let Satan test him and do horrible things to him. Satan thought he could turn Job away from God, but God knew better.

God used Job to help him give a lesson to Satan.

Meditating on this wonderful reminder brought a spontaneous smile to my lips, and I returned to the dishes.

Breathe and smile. Breathe and smile.

"Lord, Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy upon me, a poor sinner."


God bless us all
Silver

A MORE TRANQUIL CHRISTMAS VISION

WINTER IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD - 2015

The other morning, I was horrified to hear newscasters advocating for the best way to DISPOSE OF Christmas cards, in light of the need to recycle paper goods. I had a quick vision of friends tossing my cards in the recycle bin, along with all my effort (and expense!)

I spend many hours on my Christmas cards and typically write a personal note in each one. Choosing just the right card was, for every year of my adult life, a really special tradition. I treasured every card I was given in return, and although some personal catastrophes forced me to eliminate nearly all of my possessions at three separate points in time, I eventually resumed the habit of saving the cards I was given each year.

"Nativity at night"

by Geertgen ton Sint Jans

1490

Not many people put as much effort into their cards as I do. Many just sign their names, but the cards themselves are often graced with the most exquisite art works! In years past, I have cut the picture side from the card and placed it in a beautiful little frame, displaying it in a pretty corner or on my desk during the Christmas season. I may even frame it informally in a little wooden frame and hang it on the wall above my writing desk or cosmetic vanity.

I remember one year when I cut the image from the cards I'd been given and wrote "thank you" notes for Christmas presents on the reverse, using them as post cards, while affixing a thrifty post card stamp on it.

L'ADORATION DES BERGERS

by Georges de la Tour

1644

Currently, I am saving cards and images from magazines to use in several decoupage projects - applying the images to some lightweight wooden boxes, to be later displayed and used as jewelry boxes, hair tie boxes, and the like. [This is the type of project that is especially suited to your older children, by the way - being a lesson in the "reuse" portion of the "reduce, reuse, recycle" mantra.]

While it is true that most Americans are drowning in little bits of this-and-that (even poor people) I think it's important to differentiate between the generic machine-made, artificial blobs of STUFF and those things into which people have infused some effort and personalization. If it is really the thought that counts, then let's act like it!

If you receive a card, it means someone thought of you. There was some effort in picking out the card, the right pen, the stickers, the stamps. On top of all that inherent value, sometimes a personal note from someone like me will be layered. There are so many coats of thought and intention applied to those Christmas cards, they're like little paper vitamins for the soul and the mind! It isn't just about the holiday, though it is the reason for the season for which there is plenty of meaning imbued on its own.

CHRISTMAS TIME - THE BLODGETT FAMILY

by Eastman Johnson

When I was a little girl, my mother, my sister and I spent several Christmas seasons making our own Christmas cards at the kitchen table. We loved it! Being poor as church mice, we couldn't give anything but our time, a few sheets of paper, a little glitter, and some postage stamps. If you have a lot of time on your hands, and your Christmas card list is not long, you may become ambitious and make personalized cards uniquely your own. It's a risk that all your work will still end up in the rubbish bin, though, so keep that in mind.

Looking at this from yet another angle, I want to encourage each person who reads this to stop and consider how cavalier most of us have become about the astonishing availability of beautiful images on commercially made objects.  We take them for granted, for the most part. A couple hundred years ago, none of this was possible. How easy it has become to throw away images originally created by the great masters! There was a time, not so long ago, when you only got to see that image if you stood in front of the original painting.

NATIVITY

by Jean Baptiste Marie Pierre

(1714-1789)

Classical works of art, and many modern ones, as well, have particular lines and shapes organized along the geometric planes of whatever ground one chooses to hold the images, which lines and shapes stimulate the mind, as there are particular organizations of structure that appeal to the brain in an organic, natural fashion.

How does this translate to a more tranquil Christmas vision? I offer to you a lesson I have learned since become disabled 15 years ago. Here it is: I am not rich, and neither are you. Instead of flogging ourselves to buy as many people as much stuff as we possibly can squeeze out of our meager funds, how about all of us reduce the number of presents we feel compelled to buy and, instead, do one thing really well? I am not suggesting we should tank the economy by withdrawing all purchases entirely - just focusing our attentions more narrowly so that we are not perpetuating that constant stream of junk that is entering into the world.

THE NATIVITY

by Jacopo Tintoretto (Jacopo Robusti)

late 1550's - reworked 1570's

Since I don't have money to supply all my necessary wants, I am relieved from buying presents for anyone, since everyone knows my situation. I did give a few tokens of affection this year (mostly scarves I crocheted), but Christmas has become, for me, all about the CARDS. What I concentrated upon was writing personal notes in each of the 50 cards I sent out. They weren't expensive cards. A postage stamp cost a lot more than most of them, but because I am relieved from giving presents, for the most part, I made an effort with the cards, in which I tried to instill as much of the LOVE of Christmas that I could muster.

It occurred to me, while I was hunkered down with all those cards, that a good rule of thumb would be for everyone to give people what would fit in a card. If the person has plenty of junk clogging their shelves and cupboards and really needs nothing that you know about in particular (like most Americans) donate money to a good cause that appeals to you or to them, and include a note to that effect in the card. If you are close to the person and would like to render personal services, make your own "redeemable upon demand" coupon, and slip that into the card. If the recipient is someone whose needs exceed their income, then put some crisp bills in that person's card and you'll have their undying gratitude. They can go out and purchase the exact thing they need and love.

CHRISTMAS PAINTING

by Stefan Baumann

On Christmas Eve day, I made East Indian spiced tea and modest snacks at my house for a few other disabled ladies in my apartment complex. We savored our simple snacks, the Christmas music and our cheerful conversation. On Christmas day, I spent time with a cousin and his mate, relishing a surprisingly expert meal and the company of a few lovely people who went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. The best Christmas ever.

Throughout the Christmas season, I am making an effort to be available to friends for conversation and simple friendship, taking one out for a short grocery shopping excursion, being attentive to another who is suffering with a personal difficulty, etc. Because my Christmas has become modest, in terms of shopping and preparations, I am better able to serve others in a quiet manner, since I have the time.

Victorian Christmas Mantel

I am really enjoying the  Christmas season this year more than any other Christmas I've ever had. I am feeling really happy, and I attribute it to paring down purchases to the bare minimum, concentrating on giving a small piece of myself in Christmas cards and spending time with people, reveling in Christmas cheer. I highly recommend it!

Silver Rose

EVERYTHING IS GONNA BE ALRIGHT

With both The Church and The Government in chaos, it would be easy to throw up our hands in frustration and just give ourselves over to the fates, but we can't give in to the temptation.

Now is the time when our faith in and understanding of Jesus and our heavenly father is tested. He is with us through the chaos. That is the gift. Whether he allows events, directs them, or has no part in them at all, one thing is certain, and that is his presence.

The Practice of the Presence of God is a wonderful little book the contains a collection of teachings of Brother Lawrence, a Carmelite monk of the 1600's, which was compiled by Father Joseph de Beaufort. It is one of the primary books that I leaned upon while a nun in the Hindu convent and which is largely responsible for my conversion to Catholicism and its wonderful mystical tradition.

The development and maintenance of a constant inner awareness of the Divine remains an essential element of my spiritual journey and one which I recommend highly to everyone because, in the end, it is God alone on whom we can depend to accompany us through every trial and travail. While he may or may not step into the procession of events in this world, as far as changing the action or the outcome, he is certainly with us in love, regardless of what happens.

If you want to give yourself over in relationship to the Lord, you can feel the love of God, feel him within you, and enjoy his presence. Much of the contemplative tradition is about this process of inclining the mind toward the Lord and residing within him, and He in us.

There are stages in which we may not be gifted with the consolations of feeling God within us. That does happen, but usually only for the advanced practitioner. Mother Teresa of Calcutta experienced it for 30 years - something I was terribly surprised to learn after she died. One doesn't think of the saints suffering in THAT way, at least I never did. The saints do not enjoy the constant beatific vision while floating 6 inches off the ground with choirs of angels singing in the background. No. The saints suffer. They believe, in spite of it.

If anything can put that stupid "prosperity gospel" to shame, it is a thorough education in the lives of the saints. There are no better people than the saints, yet nearly every single one of them had wretched lives. Remember that.

The particular value of Brother Lawrence for our modern, busy lives is that he makes the case for God being more present to us in our daily activities than even in  "the choir stall." The Lord is with us in our duties which occupy most of our time. While I love my practice of contemplation, and enjoy all the beauty of the shrines, holy pictures, candles and incense, even I cannot spend the entire day communing with God with my eyes closed. Like everyone else, I need to be "up and doing." God is "up and doing" with all of us throughout our day. He does not reserve his love for the hour and a half one is at church or sitting at prayer in front of one's altar.

If I wasn't suffering like the saints, I would buy a thousand copies of The Practice of the Presence of God and give them all away, but all I can do is recommend that you read it and hope you pass it along to someone else who might benefit.

Currently, there IS a version you can read AND HEAR online, through the Christian Classics Ethereal Library, which you can access on THIS LINK. I prefer the actual book, which is fairly small and can be carried with you, but the online version will certainly do until you can obtain a copy.

Let us all remind one another to grasp the Lord's hand firmly while we walk through the chaos of this difficult era. Everything will be alright because He will be with us through all of it.

God bless us all.

Silver Rose

THE SOUND OF SILENCE

"I need solitude for my writing - not like a "hermit" - 

that wouldn't be enough -

but like a dead man."

~Franz Kafka~

Earlier this month, I had to stop in the middle of a grocery store aisle and yell, "This music is too loud!" Of course, no one paid the slightest bit of attention to this crazy lady, holding her hands to her ears in the dog food aisle while some old song blasted out of the speakers above my head.

Shopping used to be very enjoyable for me. Stores were quiet. If there WAS music, it was typically very soothing, but then some idiot got the bright idea to bombard shoppers with advertisements punctuated by blaring music. The advertisements are created by manufacturers of the products that the stores sell. The store gets some kind of financial benefit from the manufacturers when they blast their customers with this kind of canned sound.

I learned this about 5 years ago, when I complained to the manager of Smiths grocery store, where I used to shop. The manager told me that she wasn't allowed to turn the music down, even though I appeared to be the only person shopping there, at some odd time of day. "Corporate" had to approve turning off or turning down the volume of the music. The customer is no longer right. The customer is now a captive.

The problem with loud music is that it prevents me from concentrating on what I need to buy. Instead, I typically flee the premises, my head pounding, and a growing sense of desperation. Half the time, I don't buy half of what is on my list. I have learned what I can go without, as a result of this recent assault on my brain cells. Smiths Grocery Store, and other corporate monsters, would make more money if they eliminated this music torture from their policies, but I doubt they will give it up, since they believe they are benefiting from it financially. Maybe the manufacturers of the products give them more money than what they would make from the customers who run frantically out of their stores.

Smiths Grocery Store no longer gets any of my meager funds. Instead, I shop at Sprouts, but they have ALSO started playing really loud music. To combat this modern tendency, I have taken to wearing ear plugs when I shop. They help to tone down the volume, but I would be happier if they took out all the noise.

A few years ago, I found out that I have several eye problems that are going to result in partial or complete blindness at some point in the future. I really wish I could have lost my hearing instead.

I have always wondered why appreciation for peace and quiet does not seem to be shared by others, since even when people have the option to enjoy the sounds of nature, for instance at a park, they will destroy the environment with loud radios and other noise devices. I have often remarked about this to friends, wondering aloud why other people seem to be intent on receiving as many separate streams of noise as is humanly possible, whereas I cannot even filter out a conversation if music is also playing.

Yesterday, I read a medical ARTICLE about how some great writers and creative people have an inability to filter out extraneous noise. They have the kind of brains that incorporate a wide ranging amount of information in their construction of literature, or painting or whatever. Marcel Proust also wore ear plugs! He covered the walls of his room with cork.

Evidently, creative geniuses have "leaky sensory gating." I am very happy to be in such illustrious company, instead of just being eccentric. Now, if I could only be paid like a genius, my life would be a heck of a lot more serene. I could buy a shipment of cork.

Silver Rose Parnell
(c) Copyright 2018
All rights reserved.

SAND HILL CRANES IN THE MORNING

Early Winter landscape

I heard the distinctive crackling cries of sand hill cranes toward the end of our morning constitutional and looked up to see a large flock of these giant birds sailing in a wide, lazy circle over the trees. Migration time. A bit late in the year, compared to earlier days when I would see them traveling in October, around the time of the balloon fiesta. They are going South to Bosque del Apache, the nature reserve a couple hours south from here by car. There, they will have a field of corn, grown just for them, that has been threshed and left to dry on the ground. They will mingle with the fat white snow geese and smaller varmints that cannot resist the sweet fresh smell of high quality food that is spread across the earth just for them, an incredible banquet.

Across the wide viewing path and boggy wetlands, the raptors will perch in giant trees. I saw a bald eagle there once, and many goldens. The memory of a brilliant male pheasant, arrayed in the height of his glory with gorgeous glistening plumes of bright feather, has stayed with me for more than 14 years. Glimpses of the timid are treasured.

Though I usually try to keep moving on my slow, shuffling walks around the property, I stood for several minutes, leaning on my cane, watching as the cranes slowly formed themselves into three parties of about 25 each. In beautiful "v" formations, following one another, they flew out of their orbit around the patch of cottonwoods and headed south.

These infusions of natural life sustain me and speak to a spot in my soul that is unnamable but gives me a deep sense of satisfaction. On the other hand, a wild sorrow grips me each time a bit of access to nature is eaten away by the dictates of government types for whom the bottom line is the ONLY priority, and the beauty of nature is irrelevant, inconvenient, or allowed only for the wealthy.

No sooner did I get inside my apartment, than the "landscapers" showed up with their infernal, roaring instruments of torture, otherwise known as leaf blowers. They blasted my front door with the vengeance, with me sitting just two feet away. The powered air forced dirt into my apartment through every crack between the door and the sill. After they covered every surface in my apartment with all the fine bits from the parking lot, they blew leaves and detritus into my garden and left me sneezing in fits, another tortured city asthmatic.

As soon as they were finished, a large machine on the golf course began chewing up the air with its artificial noise, mowing or sowing or who-knows-what. It continued for quite a long time, causing me to begin the now too familiar battle to calm nerves that have been jangled by the chaos of modern life.

Soon, the workmen that have been spackling the ceilings of the outdoor spaces will return with their ladders, their loud laughter, and their yelling to one another from one building to another. Hovering outside the windows of the many retired tenants, and slopping white spackling material all over the sidewalks, in the dirt and on the glass of the windows, they have been a constant presence for weeks now.

The building has gotten to the age where numerous repairs are required and, because the building was constructed so poorly to begin with, and the repairs are done in a slap-dash manner by non-professional, untrained laborers who do not speak English and are probably not even legally in this country, the repairs have continued for a couple of years now.

Every year, the activity in this complex becomes more and more intrusive, noisy, inconvenient and not conducive to the life of silence and contemplation of a hermit type person. Imagine, if you will, sorting oneself out so that the soul is in silence and ready to receive the Lord, and, suddenly, the place is overrun with jabbering, clueless workmen who are clanging pails and scrapers and paint brushes and thermoses in a cacophony of disorganization.

A few quiet moments of watching the sand hill cranes was a blessed (and rare) break from the mayhem of the majority of the rest of the day. I will be grateful for it and cling to it, thinking back to when life was much more like the former than the latter and how the balance has shifted so dramatically that I hardly feel as if I live on the same planet as I did in 1970 or 1980.

How will I meditate on God and say my prayers in the midst of this grotesquerie? How can one established sacred space when noise and the constant presence of strangers invades my privacy and seeps in with the dirt from the parking lot? All the icons in the world can't keep out this sort of invasion.

Please pray for me, as I pray for you.

Silver Rose Parnell
Copyright (c) 2015, All rights reserved