SAINT THORFINN VS. DONALD TRUMP

Reuters/Mark Theiler/File photo - January 6, 2021

A couple days ago, I watched as Donald Trump stood before a crowd of devotees and exhorted them to go to the Capitol building and take over the government, hammering out the drum beat of a fictional tale of an election "stolen" from their HERO (him) citing his tired old conspiracy theories calculated to inflame the crowd. Prior to this, he had primed the pump by announcing on Twitter that he was calling them to go to the Capitol building and that it was going to be "wild."

"He was oppressed and He was afflicted, 

yet he did not open his mouth,

Like a lamb that is led to slaughter,

And like a sheep that is silent before its shearers,

He did not open His mouth."

Isaiah 53:7

Two days later, we are still dealing with this unprecedented assault on our democracy.

Somehow this man captured the imaginations and hearts of people who feel left behind by society - a society that had moved on to welcome and embrace different "lifestyles" than theirs - a society they had grown to hate because it was - is - a society that ignored them, when they used to be its masters and its mythical heroes. The reins had been taken from their hands with a surly look and a patronizing, "Ok, Boomer."

This is why the average age of Trump's rage-fueled crowd that broke down the doors and invaded the Capitol building was considerably older than what you typically see in a protest event. But this was never intended to be a peaceful "protest." It was always meant to be a bloody holy crusade. Their bitterness and resentment had coalesced and hardened under an aging tyrant whose indignation at being left behind was even more intense than theirs and who was selling them a fantasy in which each one of them could be the savior of the American way of life - or at least their version of it. "Make America Great Again" really means "put us in charge again, like we were before."

"And I looked and behold, you had sinned against the Lord your God.

You had made yourselves a golden calf. You had turned aside quickly

from the way that the Lord had commanded you."

Deuteronomy 9:15

But Trump's followers are not a cohesive group because Trump's only requirement is that they be loyal to him. That's it. Different people come to him for different reasons. I know people who voted for him and supported him because they're very involved in the "pro-life" movement and they wanted him to appoint "pro-life" judges that they believed would reverse Roe v. Wade. They wouldn't be caught dead in a red MAGA hat while sitting in the bleachers of a Trump rally, and they were definitely not breaking into the Capitol building.

He had called his troops to Washington D.C. via Twitter, the internet platform that he adopted as his personal, exclusive mode of communication, eschewing the "official" channels of government that are curated and overseen by government professionals whose skill has been honed by years of managing official government edicts. Trump would have none of it. He alone would be in control. Typical of this attitude, when he was campaigning he had said "I alone can fix it."

(Twitter announced today that Trump is now permanently banned from their platform. Facebook had beat them to it on the day this happened.)

"He will not quarrel, nor cry out,

Nor will anyone hear His voice in the streets."

Matthew 12:19

I have known many Trumps in my life. Having been born into, raised up in, and worked in the entertainment industry until my late 20's, I met countless Trump clones - people with stars in their eyes and aspirations of fame in their souls - for whom reality is relative and "image" is everything. I have watched these people create fables about themselves and weave epic tales that overlay the truth of who they really are, yearning all the while for the adoration of a crowd. They want to be a star. They want to be THE star.

This is why I knew that a Trump presidency was going to be a nightmare - and I was right.

Trump told the crowd that he would accompany them to the Capitol, that he would be there beside them, but in classic coward's fashion, he slipped into a waiting car that took him in the opposite direction. He had given marching orders to his troops and probably didn't even give a backward glance to watch them parading off toward the capitol, with their flags flying: Trump flags, American flags - and the ominous Confederate flags that telegraph The South's "lost cause" to anyone with an historical perspective.

"But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, 

as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, 

idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be 

in the lake that burns with fire and sulphur, 

which is the second death."

Revelation 21:8

The Confederate flags are a dead giveaway as to the genesis of a very active portion of Trump's followers. His blatant racism and xenophobia had activated the sons of The South. The Civil War never ended here in America, so when the Ku Klux Klan, the Proud Boys, the Neo-Nazis, anti-Semites and the generic white supremacists heard Trump's racist dog-whistles, they jumped to follow him. I suspect that a good portion of Trump's younger devotees belong to this general group that showed up fully costumed in military kit, complete with long guns. One of the men brought 11 "Molotov cocktails." Among the weapons were long guns, hand guns and  i.e.d.'s, as would be recognized by anyone with recent military experience, and a number of pipe bombs.

Among the flags were numerous signs and T-Shirts with slogans emblazed on them, of course, at least one of which read: "6 million Jews is not enough."

Outside the Capitol building, the crowd appeared to grow in frenetic energy. An angry group attacked a black passer-by, demanding to know who she voted for and why she was there. They tore out her hair extensions, sprayed pepper spray into her eyes from close-up, and man-handled her. She was eventually rescued. 

Journalists were accosted, questioned and assaulted, their equipment, in many cases, destroyed or damaged.

By the end of the day, fifty police officers had been injured and one was on life support (he later died.) One woman was shot and killed by police. Three other rioters were killed from some aspect of their involvement in the insurrection.

From their midst, I heard someone blowing the shofar - a ram's horn that was used as a wind instrument during Biblical times in order to signal battle instructions during war time. The crowd pressed forward and began to fight the few police that were there. The pitiful little iron barricades were quickly dispensed with and it didn't take long before the anarchists were streaming into the building. There were more than a hundred of them, by my estimation.

(Later, I learned that, right about the time that I heard the shofar being blown, Trump had issued a tweet of disappointment that Mike Pence had not done what Trump had urged him to do, which was to violate the Constitution and interfere with the counting of the votes of the Electors that had been delivered. The Vice President was basically supposed to open the envelopes - like a presenter at the Academy Awards. It is a ceremonial function and it would not have been possible for him to change the outcome, but Trump refused to believe it. I suspect that the blowing of the shofar was the signal for the mob to break into the Capitol, as per a pre-arranged plan. I will be following the hearings in the months to come and will be interested in the back story on all of it.)

"If anyone loves me he will keep my word and my father 

will love him,and we will come to him and 

make our home with him."

John 14:23

Absent a leader, the madding crowd didn't know what to do after they broke into the Capitol building and random chaos ensued. I watched them wandering around, yelling frenetically, this slogan or that one. "U.S.A.! U.S.A.!" or "Stop the steal!" They destroyed benches, desks and chairs, walked away with lecterns under their arms, rifled through papers and generally acted like dogs pissing all over the furniture, in an effort to mask the scent of those in power and proclaim dominance over them.

The picture of a middle-aged, bearded yahoo, kicking back in the chair in the office of the speaker of the house, with his clodhopper boots casually planted on the government papers on her desk, is the perfect icon for this event. It was an expression of contempt for our government. (That man stole some of those papers off her desk, and it didn't take long for the police to find him.)

"Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which

no one will see the Lord."

Hebrews 12:14

A lot of selfies were taken and most likely uploaded to social media, where law enforcement can easily find them, if they care to do so. I was shocked that some officers were too few and too friendly with this violent mob, even after one of them was beaten to death by a Trumper wielding a heavy fire extinguisher.  Some of the officers took selfies with intruders inside the Capitol! Oh, boy. Recent reports are beginning to report on government officials and police officers having been involved in the melee inside the building, and people are losing their jobs as a result.

"But as He who has called you is holy, you also be holy in all 

your conduct, since it is written, "You shall be holy, 

for I am holy."

1 Peter 1:15-16

There is video of most of this attempted coup, and I have seen it all. But later I learned that five people died as a result of the insurrection. One of them was that police officer I mentioned. In the midst of carnage and death, there was a celebratory, carnival-level jocularity that was insane. One man jumped onto the pedestal of a statue of one of our former presidents that had been decorated with a protester's flag and some other junk so he could have his picture taken.

Outside, when reporters asked them what they hoped to achieve, the answers were incomprehensible. Some of them yelled, "This is OUR government!" One woman stumbled for a response and finally said, "We pay them. This is ours." A wild-eyed man inside the building yelled his response that was  something similar - that the Capitol belonged to him. Another said, "this is all we can do." It was an unfocused but violent and chaotic mob.

"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by 

the renewal of your mid, that by testing you may discern 

what is good and acceptable

and perfect."

Romans 12:2

If they had intended to actually make a change in government, there would have been a focused plan of attack, a specific mission, with a target. But because their leader was cowering, in safety, at another property far away, nothing but anarchy could result.  I keep thinking about the plastic flex cuffs that bristled from the belt of a man dressed in tactical gear and wonder just how many Senators and Representatives he intended to handcuff with them and what he would do with them once they were captured and restrained. Thank God our people were safely harbored in a secure place, otherwise this could have been even worse.

It took hours for the military to arrive and quell the insurrection, a fact that is going to require a significant and far-reaching study and probably numerous prosecutions. MANY heads will roll by the time the investigations are concluded. There were some arrests on that day and early evening, but they were mostly arrests of people who violated the curfew after the rioters were ejected. For some inexplicable reason, the police allowed the violent protesters to leave the building without being taken into custody. I watched, in real time, as these traitors sauntered out the front door with smug looks on their faces. I could easily see their expressions because they weren't wearing masks in the middle of a pandemic. So, not only was this a terrorist attack against our government, it was a super-spreader event.

Earlier this summer, the police employed thousands of officers, fully equipped for a riot, to come down on PEACEFUL black protesters in the wake of the recent murder of a black man by officers (another horrifying murder preserved for posterity on videotape.) I saw these officers knock over elderly people, unarmed people, mothers and others. It was a nightmare. Then, too, there was the really harsh treatment of the peaceful protesters that Trump had violently pushed aside so that he could walk over to the nearby church and wave a Bible around so that he could get a good photograph taken for publicity purposes. Incredibly, he advertises himself as a "Christian." (I can barely type that sentence without my stomach tensing, the idea of Trump being a big Christian is so ridiculous.) But the white insurrectionists that came to hurt our government and who caused the deaths of 5 people, were allowed to wander out the front door of the Capitol building they had just trashed - with smiles on their faces.

"Therefore, prepare your minds for action, and being 

sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace 

that will be brought to you at the revelation

of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not 

be conformed to the passions of your former 

ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, 

you also be holy in all your conduct, 

since it is written, 

"You shall be holy, for I am holy."

1 Peter 1:13-16

Since these events, our country has been in turmoil. Trump is reported to be raging, like a hurt and caged animal. Even after all this, he refuses to admit that he lost the election. He continues to spout ridiculous illogical and disproven conspiracy theories that have been rejected by a majority of the American people, by the election officials in every state (from both major parties), by the courts, and by the official electors. He is giving the appearance of someone who actually believes the yarn he has been spinning since before the election.

I wonder if he will ever realize that the conspiracy theories were never even close to being realistic and that he himself had been led down the garden path by dark characters in the shadows of the internet whose imaginations and twisted way of analyzing innocent events captured something very needy and craven within Trump's psyche. As malignantly narcissistic and evil as he has demonstrated himself to be, he is not even the architect of his own demise. I am betting that the people who created and promoted these absurd conspiracy theories and tried to "prove" those theories with transparently implausible, logistically impossible rationales, are pleased and surprised that their "influence" is so far reaching. Who knows if even they believe the nonsense they have manufactured and disseminated.

Today the Democrats, aided by Republicans who have not sold their souls to Trump, are trying to restore and strengthen our Democracy. Some Republicans who have aided and abetted this monster over the last 4 years are only now walking away - 12 days before the end of his tenure - probably so that they won't be associated with any insane thing he does between now and his ignominious exit. Some people are positing that they do not want to be in the position of having to vote about whether or not Trump should be removed. They're cowards - just like him.

The leader of the house, Nancy Pelosi, upon whose desk one of Trump's men had placed his jackboots, has announced that unless the vice president and others remove Trump from office with the 25th amendment, The House may impeach. There are discussions all over tv, in the newspapers and on the internet about which method (or both) may be appropriate because it is generally agreed that Trump is a dangerous, unhinged man that cannot be trusted not to create another crisis during the last 13 days. He has the nuclear codes, after all.

Whatever is done, I have been praying that cooler heads have found a way to restrain Trump and prevent him from acting in any capacity for the next 12 days. He has announced that he will not be present for the inauguration, but he has not issued any message to his followers that would deter them from attacking that event, at which our entire governmental edifice will be present. I hope to God that whoever was in charge of securing the Capitol is not the same person in charge of security for this event, otherwise our government is doomed because I feel sure that, given the ease with which these domestic terrorists were able to break into the Capitol and into the most sacred halls of democracy, and how smooth their exit, completely without consequences, they are certainly emboldened to continue in this vein, especially since Trump has continued to bleat his pathetic lies about the election being stolen from him, even during "his" announcement that was supposed to call off the dogs.

"Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but those who act faithfully

are his delight."

Proverbs 12:22

I had previously vowed not to think much or write much about politics. After all, I reasoned, remember the politics of Jesus' day. There have always been cruel despots in power at various times in history - and Trump is just another one - but this is historic, and I feel that my diary would be inauthentic if I ignored it. It's just too big. While there have been plenty of events in the public sphere worth discussing in conversation - this event is one for the history books, so I am not going to be all precious and pretend it doesn't affect me. It does.

In stark contrast with today's political and societal atmosphere, the saint of the day for January 8th was a retiring fellow that we knew very little about until after his tomb was opened, a beautiful fragrance wafted from the grave and miracles began to occur when his name was invoked.

Saints - the real heroes - do not stoke the petty resentments and animosities of their admirers. In fact, they avoid admirers, if there is any way to do so. Their humility is a feature of their spiritual disciplines and a response to the humble nature of Jesus Himself.

"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me
for I am gentle and humble in heart and you
will find rest for your souls."
Matthew 11:29

SAINT THORFINN

Saint Thorfinn of Hamar, Norway

BISHOP

Saint Thorfinn was probably a Cistercian monk before being made bishop in medieval times. Along with several other priests, he was involved in negotiations with King Eric II of Norway, who was nicknamed "priest hater." We can imagine how he may have gotten that moniker! 

(As it happens, King Eric is another one of my "shirt tail relations, as he was married to my 2nd cousin, 24 times removed!)

King Eric II had repudiated the Tonsberg Concord that regulated issues between church and state, especially episcopal elections. Evidently, things got heated between King Eric II and the Archbishop, so he banished the archbishop and his two supporters, one of whom was Saint Thorfinn. With his "glamorous" and weighty work concluded, Thorfinn was happy to return to the state of a humble monk.

On the way to the Abbey of Ter Doest (near Bruges), Bishop Thorfinn encountered many difficulties, and was even shipwrecked, but evidently he took it all in stride and settled into his new life without complaint. It wasn't long before he died there, on this day in 1285.

His was a mind of equanimity, whether he was conversing with kings or commoners, bishops or monks. Becoming ill and sensing he was not long for the world, he made out his will, divided what little he had, and prepared for death, which came fairly soon thereafter.

Saint Thorfinn had not done anything to attract attention to himself during his time in the monastery, and he was soon forgotten, but something like 50 years after he died, his tomb was broken into in connection with some building project and that is how the "odor of sanctity" was perceived coming from his body.

An aged monk who had known Thorfinn in his youth recalled a man of gentle goodness and strength, so he wrote a poem about Thorfinn in Latin and it was hung over his tomb. In it, Saint Thorfinn is described as a kind patient generous monk, whose mild demeanor belied a strong will that stood solidly against anything that smacked of evil.

"He will not cry out or raise his voice,

Nor make his voice heard in the street."

Isaiah 42:2

There were miracles associated with his relics, people began to visit his tomb (which was later moved) and gradually he became one of Norway's few Catholic saints, and a very popular one. (Norway is not a big Catholic country.)

If Donald Trump had chosen a holy life marked by honesty, kindness, generosity and equanimity, as did today's Saint Thorfinn, the "eternal praise" he yearned for would have been his.

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom;

All who follow his precepts have good understanding.

To him belongs eternal praise."

May we all be blessed, and may out country be healed

Silver Rose

SAINT PAULA OF TUSCANY AND SYNCLETICA OF ALEXANDRIA - JANUARY 5TH - MAKING USE OF ONE'S CIRCUMSTANCES

 

Saint Paula

I am delving into the lives of two of the nineteen saints who share a feast day of January 5th, along with 17 other holy people. The two I have chosen, Saint Paula of Tuscany and Syncletica of Alexandria, were not linked in life, but I see some parallels in the way in which they made use of the circumstances that were thrust upon them. 

In the case of Saint Paula (d. 1368), she was "given" to the Camaldolese nuns when she was very young - which is usually an indication that the parents had no dowry for the girl or they were too poor to feed and house her. The death of a parent could also result in the girl being given to the nuns to raise. I haven't found any details about that.

Saint Syncletica, however, was born into a Macedonian family of means. Being both wealthy and beautiful, she had many suitors for her hand, but at a young age she dedicated herself to The Lord and refused all offers of marriage. As it happens, the entirety of her parents' estate was given to her, as both of her brothers died and her blind sister was dependent upon her and put into her care.

Saint Syncletica

While Saint Paula was placed in religious life due to lack of resources, Saint Syncletica came to it with quite a bit of money. She could have had any sort of life she wanted, but chose the contemplative life instead.

Bad circumstances can lead us to religious life just as well as happy ones, as today's saints can attest. It is a question of access and livelihood that would allow it.

In my own case, I had spent some time in a Vedanta (Hindu-based) convent in my 30's and loved the life but ended up leaving, which is a long story in itself. Suffice it to say that, for many reasons, I was in the wrong place, so I got a job and took an apartment. In my late 40's, the disabilities that have plagued me since childhood exerted so much pressure on me that I had to stop working. I simply could not work outside the home any more. The disabilities had worsened, increased in chronic pain, and multiplied. It was more than I could handle.

After my initial dismay, I prayed about my situation and suddenly realized that I could re-dedicate myself to the contemplative life, turning lemons into lemonade thereby. I was going to be stuck at home ANYWAY, and my retirement income, though very small, would be enough for food and a roof over my head, so I took the plunge.

In one sense, it was "easy" for me because I am temperamentally suited to contemplative life and I had always intended to return to it "full time" and perhaps even start a group for contemplative women of a certain age.

The day of my vows.
(I've lost a bit of weight since then.)

Every day is a new opportunity to make the choice to put my mind on the Divine. There are many days when my body interferes with that process. (It is demanding, this envelope of flesh!) The choices one is allowed consist of opportunities outside the parameters of earthly limitations, and I have quite a few of those - especially now that I have begun to lose my vision. But I ask myself every day if I am taking advantage of whatever choices are available to me at this time. I ask myself if my attention is on the Divine? If it is, then my choices will reflect that reality because whatever decision I make, large or small, is colored by the inclination of my mind.

Both Paula and Syncletica became known for their holiness, and many women came to them for instruction. In addition, Paula is best known for also easing tensions between Pisa and Florence, acting as a peacemaker between the two warring cities.  See: CATHOLIC SAINTS INFO - "BLESSED PAULA OF TUSCANY" You would think that, with such a weighty accomplishment there would be more written about her - but no. In fact, there are so many Saints called Paula that many of the writers have mixed them all up.

Saint Syncletica

Syncletica gave away her fortune to the poor and withdrew to a lonely spot with her blind sister whom she still had to care for. She was widely known for her devotion to humility and spoke frequently about this spiritual quality. She died of a terrible cancer that ate away a portion of her face. Her last few months, understandably, were excruciatingly painful, but she was gifted with the consolations of visions from God and left this earthly plane in a heavenly state. See: CATHOLIC ONLINE - SAINT SYNCLETICA

Every day, I try to remember to study at least one of the saints of the day, so that I can celebrate a feast every day! There are usually ten to twenty of them, but I will choose one that appeals to me - usually a female monastic - and then I imagine that the saint walks with me throughout that day. Their story becomes intertwined with my boring life.

My New Year's resolution to simplify my life, more and more, is proving increasingly complicated because modern life itself is complicated. I am struggling against my physical conditions. They taunt my aspirations and torment my mood, challenging the patience that I have worked so hard to develop over so many years! But at least my face isn't being eaten away, like poor Saint Syncletica!

Today I had to pick up groceries from the market across town. It took hours to get myself showered, dressed and prepared, with the dog walked, morning pills consumed, hair washed, etc. I had to drive through the bank to get a few $5 bills to save for tipping the people who load my car. By the time I swing by my friend's house to drop off some old clothing made of good fabric she could use in her sewing projects, she was worried about me and told me she had thought about calling me but didn't want to distract me while driving. It had taken me hours to get out of the house.

By the time I got home with the groceries and unloaded them, I was exhausted and in terrible pain. I sat in my reclining chair, and I remain there until this minute. I really need someone to shop for me but the professional shoppers won't go to the stores that I choose. They will only shop at the very closest stores, and the ones in my low-rent neighborhood do not have healthy food. I am almost in a food desert. So I have to order the groceries online, then get in the car and drive across town, and they load it into my trunk. Today, I was supposed to be there between 9 am and 10 am. I got there about 3:30.

Not being able to pick out the groceries myself is turning out to be a real trial. I have had to throw away at least 2 or 3 items in each shopping trip because they pick rotten food or expired food or they substitute with something that is FULL of chemicals. I had two nightmare food items in the bags today and I had to throw them away.

I can feel myself slowly, gradually, losing my abilities. Driving will soon be impossible, thanks to my vision loss. I am just praying that I can keep all the plates spinning in the air until after Covid has been vanquished and it will be safe to have an attendant in the car with me or in the house with me. I keep telling myself "then I can fall apart!"

On difficult days like today, I think about how, if my inheritance hadn't been stolen from me when my father got Alzheimer's, I would be better able to take care of myself - but this is what happens when one's parent is a flaming narcissist with millions of dollars, a glamorous career, and a stable of women in which he was unfaithful to every one of them. The woman with the most access is bound to retaliate. Resentful of his "miserliness" or that he refused to buy her a fur coat, they feel that the man owes them everything - even the inheritance he promised to his children. My inheritance would have enabled me to better prepare for the impending blindness and other issues, with plenty left over to help others, instead of paying for some woman's fur coat.

I have to assume, however, that, after promising myself to God, he isn't going to make it impossible for me to follow him. I have to assume that He will attend to my needs and that the money won't be necessary. So I pray for the souls of the people who stole it and try not to wish it hadn't happened.

I am stuck in the chair for the rest of the evening but, fortunately, there is much I can do while sitting in this chair, aside from prayer, meditation and holy reading. I am crocheting some pillow covers to match the blanket I made for a dear friend. I write this blog, my novel and some poems. Sometimes I practice music (if you can call it that) on my guitalele (6-string ukelele.)

Later, I have to fight my recalcitrant body once more and take the service dog for a walk. Then we had to move the car into the garage because I couldn't unload the car if it is in there. There isn't enough room. 

Poor Charlemagne must find me very boring. I have too much pain to spend much time outside with the poor little fuzzy boy. But, right now, he is snoozing away happily on my left leg while the laptop is propped on my right. It often crosses my mind that my circumstances could be far worse. A surge of gratitude courses through me. Much of the world is much less comfortable than I am, even considering my considerable pain and handicaps.

Earlier today, when I slipped the $5 bill into the hands of the young man who loaded my car for me, he wished me a happy new year. I promised him that 2021 would be a better year - not perfect - and maybe not even a "good" year - but things should be measurably better by January of 2022. And this is what I offer you. I do believe that the nightmare of the last few years will fall away, bit by bit, and we will eventually conquer Covid.

In the meantime, I pray to God that people stop dying from this awful scourge.

May god bless us all.

Silver Rose

BLESSED MARIE-ANNE HACHER DU BOIS - At the Mercy of Circumstance - New Years' Resolutions

 

Blessed Marie-Anne Hacher du Bois

being dragged to her death during the French Revolution

The ONE woman on the Catholic calendar of saints for whom November 2 is the feast has almost nothing written about her that I can find on the internet. Imagine this: that you give up your life, to die in an horrific manner, for the sake of your religion, and the Church in which you do this doesn't bother to retain information about your life story.

As usual, the official "Saint of the Day" is Basil "The Great" and there are all sorts of things written about him. Historians might say that more is known about this man than Marie-Anne Hacher du Bois, who was martyred for her faith - but I would contend there is a reason for that as well. Historians are traditionally men, and men ignore the accomplishments and saintliness of women. Yes, I am expressing a broad generalization, but this generalization is far more true than not.

Despite the paucity of information for this female "blessed," I am taking her up anyway. Oddly enough, we have her actual birth date, April 3, 1765, and her death date: February 10, 1794, in Avrille, France. As an expert genealogist, I will tell you that knowing the exact birth date of someone born in the mid 18th century is fairly unusual, with the exception of those born into the royal houses of Europe. As far as I know, this blessed was an ordinary woman of Anjou, France. Some of her "biographies" say she was a laywoman. A few claim her as a nun. In any case, she died during the French Revolution for the sake of her faith.

Whenever I am studying a saintly person from history, I always try to align myself with their circumstances, and in this respect, with this particular woman, I feel like she and I were each caught up in the turmoil of general societal circumstances over which we have no control. In her life, it was the French revolution, and in mine it is a world-wide pandemic and, to a lesser degree, a government that has gone mad in the hands of a wealthy despot.

Spiritual life transcends every other aspect of existence, as far as I am concerned. Those of us who have given ourselves over entirely to our faith must opt to follow the dictates of that faith rather than occupy our hearts and minds with anger toward our circumstances. Most Americans are distracted by the dangers of the "novel" Covid virus and the implied perils and pitfalls of a surprisingly fascist government, but Jesus himself was killed at the hands of misguided government, and his inner peace and sense of mission were not thrown off by it. Other than educating the powers-that-be when they accosted him, he stayed focused on the matters of God.

I am too easily distracted by the failures of everyone else, specifically with regard to orders I place for various survival items. None of the merchants I deal with seem to be able to produce the items they claim they have for sale, but they go ahead and send me SOMETHING ELSE I cannot use. Food prepared or picked by others arrives rotten or unpleasant or otherwise WRONG in some way. This is all complicated by the fact that when I prepare my own meals or make my own supplies, I am unable to clean up after myself, as it requires more standing than I am able to tolerate while washing pots and pans.

As I write this, pots and pans from CHRISTMAS DAY remain in the sink, moldering away. (The nuns of the Vedanta Convent could tell you about my messy cooking habits, which have not changed. They would always ask me plaintively, "can't you wash your OWN pots and pans?" I could not. Standing on my crumbling bones to cook the meal for a dozen women was all I could manage because, even though I was only in my mid-30's, the arthritis I inherited from my mother's side of the family had already taken hold and was eating away at my bones and joints. Thank God I was a fairly good cook.)

I COULD have an attendant come to help me from the agency. Medicaid will pay for it. But it is far too dangerous to have someone come into my house when there is a deadly pandemic virus coursing through the population. The world and everyone in it has become dangerous.

These pressures have taken their toll on my mood. I have become irritated far too easily - and this corresponds with my failure to discipline myself better with my meditation routine. Like many elderly disabled people who suffer constant pain, I am having trouble sleeping, and it is throwing me off my schedule. This has been going on for a very long time, and whenever I push myself very hard to adjust my sleep, I not only fail to do what I aim to do but I also have an even greater difficulty restraining the irritation.

It has become obvious that two things are now necessary. I need to give up many of my "do it yourself" decisions and habits. I can no longer "do it myself" no matter how hard I try. My body has retaliated against me.

As was once suggested to me by a very spiritually advanced priest, I need to use the many painful circumstances of my life to push me closer to the Divine, and this is, indeed, the job of the mystic.

For instance, since I am determined to simplify while at the same time eating very healthy, I can also develop a type of ascetic eating habit that involves as much raw fruit and veg as possible. To some degree, some of my food has to be prepared by others, so I have decided to try a food delivery service called DAILY HARVEST, which is rather expensive and will really cut into my food supplies. Therefore, I will also use this as an opportunity to lose more weight - though perhaps in a faster mode than previously. Mostly, I have ordered some frozen fruits and veg that, combined with some soy milk in the blender, will be a nutritious breakfast. They ship it to you in dry ice, after the fresh fruit and veg have been frozen "at the farm." We shall see.

Secondly, I need to work on my decision to avoid complaining.  To qualify that term, I would say that reporting what has happened is not the same thing as complaining. Frankly, I have found that for poor people, most news is "bad" news. Nearly every saint I have studied had a life liberally peppered with unfortunate circumstances. It is how you greet your circumstances that is the key. Everyone has to decide for themselves what this means, but I think that desiring too much sympathy may be a warning sign, at times. But mostly, I would say that one's mood is the real indicator.

Now - what if you have what is called a "mood disorder?" I am not a psychiatrist and I don't have a mood disorder myself, so I can't say. I do have a big case of PTSD, dating back to childhood, and this comes with its own baggage, but my personal experience is that the decision to manage it is the tell-tale indicator of whether or not one is complaining or simply reporting the daily goings on of life.

The most important signal to watch for, I would imagine, is whether or not one remains curious about the welfare of OTHERS. If you lose track of the needs and circumstances of other humans and remain focused on your own disappointments, selfishness has taken hold.

As with all spiritual disciplines, it is not one's success in overcoming all these obstacles that is the most important thing. It is our aspiration and our attempts that matter. What do we intend to do? How sincerely do we work at it?

One thing I particularly love about New Year's observances is the tradition of committing to New Years "resolutions." Everything I have talked about in this post pertains to my New Year's resolutions for 2021. As usual, it all centers around my spiritual disciplines.

I would love to hear your resolutions for this new year. Take a minute to write me and let me know.

In the meantime, may God bless us all.

Silver Rose

SAINT AILERAN - "SAPIENS THE WISE"

SAINT AILERAN

aka "Aireran", "Ercran" and 

"Sapiens the Wise" or "Aireran an teagnaidh"

{Aireran the Wise}

During the time between Christmas and New Years, my personal tradition is to try to get a jump on my New Years' resolutions, which usually include greater simplicity in the household and in my clothing. This typically will involve giving a lot to the poor - but I have already done that, and the only things left are clothings that, though WAY too big for me, I must keep because I have nothing else until I can make myself a wardrobe.

In the interest of our poor ecology, and with deference to my multiple allergies to chemicals, I try only to use natural fabrics when I make clothes. This means cotton, wool, linen and silk. It is ironic that these natural things are customarily more expensive than artificial fabrics that ruin the environment, but even though linen is more expensive than polyester, making my own clothing from linen is STILL less expensive than buying ready-made clothing. The robes and dresses I make will accommodate future weight loss so I don't have to do this again, and the type of clothing best suited to my needs can't be found among the ready-made options anyway. This year will be a year of tying up loose ends, simplifying, sewing, and preparing for a period of greater attention to my monastic routine

Resolutions for 2021 include pulling myself away from too much attention to political matters. Lord willing, I will finish the first draft of my novel. I will make myself a simple "capsule" wardrobe, including home-knit socks that I have to learn how to make. I would like to lose another 40 pounds. I hope to survive the Covid era. Those are my only real resolutions, though I have many projects in the queue. During social isolation, I will not be bored.

One of my perennial projects is the study of and meditation on some of the saints I find inspiring.  Being a Celtic gal, I am rather partial to the saints with Irish and Scottish links. In today's case, the saint was also a monastic as well as a highly intellectual type and a writer who penned a biography of Saint Patrick, as well as one (each) for Saints Brigid and Finian.

Saint Patrick

(Aileran wrote the 4th life of St. Patrick)

Apparently, Aileron was a highly esteemed scholar at the Abbey of Clonard, having been welcomed to it by Saint Finian himself. The modern "Clonard Monastery" is not the same facility. It is a more modern place, in the center of busy West Belfast in Northern Ireland, which is part of the United Kingdom.

Saint Finian of Clonard

Clonard Abbey, where Saints Aileran and Finian resided, used to sit on the River Boyne which is now in the Republic of Ireland, which is an independent country that is not part of the U.K. It is in the County of Meath, and the village of Clonard is very near.

This is a photo of the approximate monastic site of Clonard, courtesy of Andreas F. Borchert. [See: LINK]

Site of former Clonard Abbey

In the year 650, Saint Aileran was made Rector of the Abbey, though it is hard to imagine him taking on the extra duties, considering the scholarly works he produced, as well as the fact that he became proficient in Latin and Greek during his time there, and proceeded to translate ancient works in those languages.

A fragment of his Short Moral Explanation of the Sacred Names is extant and is read aloud each year in various European scholarly institutions.

His last work was a treatise on the Genealogy of Christ, According to St. Matthew [An Allegorical Exposition of the Genealogy of Christ.] This was first published by Thomas Sirin, in 1667 under the title Ailerani Scoto-Hibernia, Cognomento Sapientis, Interpretatio Mystica Progenitorum. The explanation of the sacred names, mentioned above, was attached to it. Apparently, these are the only representatives of all his works, the previous mentioned biographies of Saints Finian and Brigid, as well as the other works, having been lost somewhere in time.

The work is detailed in the Lives of Illustrious and Distinguished Irishmen, edited by James Wills. A (free) copy of that work may be found, online, at THIS LINK.

Aileran died of the yellow fever on today's date in the year 665, which is detailed in the Annals of Ulster, under the name of Aileran the Wise.

When I read about the wonderful works that celebrated monastics are able to produce while attending to the daily office and becoming scholars and translators of multiple languages to boot, I sometimes wistfully long for a simpler life, and perhaps a life lived in common, that would allow me to concentrate my energies on intellectual pursuits. Modern life provides so many avenues of distraction that I often wonder if civilization is such a boon to humans, after all.

On the other hand, I feel tremendous gratitude for the inspirational gift of these manifold channels of education that come to me so easily through the internet here at home, and, truth to tell, I am not constitutionally suited to the rigors of the typical monastic life, considering my multifarious infirmities and a creative spirit with which I was born and which forms the basis of whatever "work" I can claim to do. 

When I examine my life with an eye toward making my New Year's Resolutions, it makes me a bit melancholy that I am not able to follow anything but the most modest standards of sanctity, but I am determined to work at remaining humble and satisfied with my limited gifts, and the whole of my life, with its domestic demands and frustrations. I tamp down the unrealized dreams when they arise, and I am indebted to the saints, whose lives I study are a wonderful illustration of holiness to which I aspire.

May we all be inspired by saints like Aileran, the Wise.

.

Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

SAINT AILERAN - "SAPIENS THE WISE" - New Year's Resolutions

 

SAINT AILERAN

aka "Aireran", "Ercran" and 

"Sapiens the Wise" or "Aireran an teagnaidh"

{Aireran the Wise}

During the time between Christmas and New Years, my personal tradition is to try to get a jump on my New Years' resolutions, which usually include greater simplicity in the household and in my clothing. This typically will involve giving a lot to the poor - but I have already done that, and the only things left are clothings that, though WAY too big for me, I must keep because I have nothing else until I can make myself a wardrobe.

In the interest of our poor ecology, and with deference to my multiple allergies to chemicals, I try only to use natural fabrics when I make clothes. This means cotton, wool, linen and silk. It is ironic that these natural things are customarily more expensive than artificial fabrics that ruin the environment, but even though linen is more expensive than polyester, making my own clothing from linen is STILL less expensive than buying ready-made clothing. The robes and dresses I make will accommodate future weight loss so I don't have to do this again, and the type of clothing best suited to my needs can't be found among the ready-made options anyway. This year will be a year of tying up loose ends, simplifying, sewing, and preparing for a period of greater attention to my monastic routine

Resolutions for 2021 include pulling myself away from too much attention to political matters. Lord willing, I will finish the first draft of my novel. I will make myself a simple "capsule" wardrobe, including home-knit socks that I have to learn how to make. I would like to lose another 40 pounds. I hope to survive the Covid era. Those are my only real resolutions, though I have many projects in the queue. During social isolation, I will not be bored.

One of my perennial projects is the study of and meditation on some of the saints I find inspiring.  Being a Celtic gal, I am rather partial to the saints with Irish and Scottish links. In today's case, the saint was also a monastic as well as a highly intellectual type and a writer who penned a biography of Saint Patrick, as well as one (each) for Saints Brigid and Finian.

Saint Patrick

(Aileran wrote the 4th life of St. Patrick)

Apparently, Aileron was a highly esteemed scholar at the Abbey of Clonard, having been welcomed to it by Saint Finian himself. The modern "Clonard Monastery" is not the same facility. It is a more modern place, in the center of busy West Belfast in Northern Ireland, which is part of the United Kingdom.

                                                                                        Saint Finian of Clonard

Clonard Abbey, where Saints Aileran and Finian resided, used to sit on the River Boyne which is now in the Republic of Ireland, which is an independent country that is not part of the U.K. It is in the County of Meath, and the village of Clonard is very near.

This is a photo of the approximate monastic site of Clonard, courtesy of Andreas F. Borchert.

Site of former Clonard Abbey

In the year 650, Saint Aileran was made Rector of the Abbey, though it is hard to imagine him taking on the extra duties, considering the scholarly works he produced, as well as the fact that he became proficient in Latin and Greek during his time there, and proceeded to translate ancient works in those languages.

A fragment of his Short Moral Explanation of the Sacred Names is extant and is read aloud each year in various European scholarly institutions.

His last work was a treatise on the Genealogy of Christ, According to St. Matthew [An Allegorical Exposition of the Genealogy of Christ.] This was first published by Thomas Sirin, in 1667 under the title Ailerani Scoto-Hibernia, Cognomento Sapientis, Interpretatio Mystica Progenitorum. The explanation of the sacred names, mentioned above, was attached to it. Apparently, these are the only representatives of all his works, the previous mentioned biographies of Saints Finian and Brigid, as well as the other works, having been lost somewhere in time.

The work is detailed in the Lives of Illustrious and Distinguished Irishmen, edited by James Wills. A (free) copy of that work may be found, online, at THIS LINK.

Aileran died of the yellow fever on today's date in the year 665, which is detailed in the Annals of Ulster, under the name of Aileran the Wise.

When I read about the wonderful works that celebrated monastics are able to produce while attending to the daily office and becoming scholars and translators of multiple languages to boot, I sometimes wistfully long for a simpler life, and perhaps a life lived in common, that would allow me to concentrate my energies on intellectual pursuits. Modern life provides so many avenues of distraction that I often wonder if civilization is such a boon to humans, after all.

On the other hand, I feel tremendous gratitude for the inspirational gift of these manifold channels of education that come to me so easily through the internet here at home, and, truth to tell, I am not constitutionally suited to the rigors of the typical monastic life, considering my multifarious infirmities and a creative spirit with which I was born and which forms the basis of whatever "work" I can claim to do. 

When I examine my life with an eye toward making my New Year's Resolutions, it makes me a bit melancholy that I am not able to follow anything but the most modest standards of sanctity, but I am determined to work at remaining humble and satisfied with my limited gifts, and the whole of my life, with its domestic demands and frustrations. I tamp down the unrealized dreams when they arise, and I am indebted to the saints, whose lives I study are a wonderful illustration of holiness to which I aspire.

May we all be inspired by saints like Aileran, the Wise.

.

Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

PAY ATTENTION

 

Saint Anthony the Hermit

Part of the advantage of meditating is beneficial side effects. When you learn to concentrate your mind on the divine in meditation, your mind becomes more and more refined. Many people try to remove the religion from this practice - because they want the ancillary skills and benefits that a meditation practice provides but they assume it can be divested of spiritual content. I have found that removing the spiritual aspect truncates those side effects. I can't tell you why.

The effort of concentration is too much for some people. They walk through life on auto pilot. They don't pay attention to communications. They have poor study habits. Their relationships suffer from inattention. 

Jesus Christ - praying in the Garden of Gethsemane

Too many people are not fully present for life.

This morning, I saw a perfect example of this. A woman on Facebook posted her desire to offer one of her kidneys to the medical community for a person who may have need of one because she says her type 0-negative blood is 'rare.' 

I asked her, "would you get mad at me if I tried to talk you out of this?"

She said, "no," with a funny little emoji, so I gave her two reasons why she might not want to give a kidney to a stranger. It was a short exchange, but I checked with her first because I myself do not like unsolicited "advice" and I am very careful not to step on toes in this regard.

The next thing I knew, she has 'blocked' me on Facebook and sent me a hostile message in which it was CLEAR she had not read or comprehended the question. Her final comment? "We are through," she said. The whole thing was bizarre.

When she said "no," for some reason, she thought she had said "no" to comments instead of "no" to whether she would get mad at me. She was not paying attention and I can't talk it out with her and have her re-read the sentence because she blocked me without engaging in any discussion, which is too bad because I rather liked her.

Now, maybe this is all for the best because it does seem more than just a little odd that, after a history of completely benign and pacific exchanges between us, she would fly into a rage like that, so my guess is that there are other things going on with her mentally, that don't have anything to do with today's communication. I will pray for her, and I hope you do also. Perhaps she will re-read the comments in that thread and realize her mistake.

Today is the feast day of Saint Anthony the Hermit. I take a keen interest in the histories of other hermits.  Their stories are typically very sad, with plenty of harsh treatment received at the hands of other people. I feel a kindship with them, for both the mystical consolations AND the miserable circumstances of life.

Saint Anthony, born about 468 in Valeria (now in Hungary) suffered the loss of his father and was given to the Abbot Severinus of Noricum (now in Austria.) When Severinus died, Anthony went to Germany to his uncle Constantius, Bishop of Lorsch. By the time he was 20, he was already a monk and had retreated to an island in Lake Como. As with many hermits, he attracted a group of followers, wanting to become holy. He lived in several solitary places then became a monk at the Abbey of Lerins. He was known for great holiness and some miracles.

It is very interesting to me that most hermits have similar histories, in that they do not remain strictly alone. It is the strength of their belief in their connection with the Lord that keeps them on the solitary path. THEIR attention isn't diverted - and it this grip they maintain on the grace of the Lord that attracts others to follow them.

Modern life exerts pressures on modern hermits that didn't exist in bygone eras. I am finally starting to compose my Christmas cards. They are "late" in the sense that it is after December 25th, but that day is just the first day of the 12 days of Christmas, and I personally love to celebrate as long as I possibly can. Would Saint Anthony the hermit send Christmas cards if he was living today? Would he have a cupboard full of dishes and teapots and things with which to feed others? I often wonder.

Tomorrow I have to upload bank statements to the Medicaid people for the special program that helps disabled people like me. I am not very good with technology, and the time that will be eaten up in this process will eat into my spiritual disciplines. Would Saint Anthony eschew the help they offer? I wonder.

I remember when I first left the Vedanta Convent and two of the nuns came to visit me in my new apartment where I lived on a carpeted floor with no furniture. In the living room, there was only 4 large pillows and 2 folding lap trays. I had no furniture and sat on the floor for everything. One of them, an Australian woman with English airs, put her plate on the carpeted floor. I moved it to the little folding tray, as I didn't want her to have to eat off the floor where people's feet had trod.

"Oh, so you're house proud," she said.  Although the rest of them lived in an actual mansion with plenty of furniture, I was house proud because I moved a plate from the floor. This woman wasn't paying attention either, which is a shame because she had all the benefits of a life geared entirely for it.

Keeping a simple life accommodates so very many different styles, doesn't it? If you are disabled, living in constant chronic pain, as I am, ascetic practices are "built in," so to speak. It is the pain that becomes the spiritual currency that we offer to God, when we are no longer able to live on the floor.

There are many people who, at what the Swami would call "the fag end of life," have only pain to offer the Lord in reparation. Eventually, I should write up my rule of life, and it will be for people like me - disabled folk who suffer much and struggle to turn the lemons of bodily injury into the lemonade of spiritual exaltation.

In the meantime, I am getting out the Christmas cards and struggling to upload documents with tiny little print I can barely read so that I can get the medical care I need without having to stop eating in order to do it. Then there is the 'simplification' project in which I make some matching robes and eliminate unnecessaries to reduce the obligation of choices - and the amount of daily laundry! When you stay in one place for 16 years, things tend to pile up which is, perhaps, the reason why Saint Anthony moved about so very many times.

Moving is no longer possible for me, however. Everyone's body gives out, in the end.

Another neighbor has died - this time, the man who lived on the second floor above me. Just a few days ago, I opened my door just as the attendants were putting his body into a long, low and very black unmarked station wagon of sorts. As they slid the gurney in, and the legs snapped into place, his feet, which had been wrapped with a white sheet, jiggled in a way that told me his spirit had left his body. I had JUST been thinking about getting his Christmas card into the mail. I wonder if people realize how many elderly people end up dying alone in their apartments? I have seen many of them in the 16 years I have lived here. 

Good night, everyone. Tomorrow is another day.

God bless us all

Silver Rose
Sannyasini Kaliprana

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