Gentle In Your Speech

Today my thoughts turn to being gentle in one's speech. What gets said, what it means, how it affects the person to whom it is said, and the one who says it; all are questions that should come to my mind in every encounter with other human beings. Where one segment of my life used to value wit, and a cunning repartee, this segment of my life demands a crucifixion. Intelligence does not have to be sacrificed, neither do personal opinions, but what gets said...that needs a serious discussion.

Why do we say things? What are we hoping to accomplish when we speak? What makes us open our mouths and let our thoughts out to others? There are essential communications, those of ordinary life, statements that are useful, and helpful. Then there are the non essentials.

Essentials. "Hello, please sit down." Or. "Welcome, there are dry towels in the bathroom. Make yourself at home." It is made up of subjects that are benign in themselves, and communicate information. This is the speech of normal life.

Non essentials. "Can you believe how fat she is?" Or. "I heard that he said that ... " Those are clear examples of what simply does not need to be said. Both of those statements have only one object in mind, to exalt self while making someone else look bad, fat, or stupid. Those who don't agree with us are easy to see as bad, or stupid. Of course, they don't agree, how could they? They are evil! They are stupid!

Speech is more complicated than I make out here, but some elementary facts need to be put down at the start. We speak essentially, or we speak non essentially. Each has multitudes of subheadings and it would be easy to split hairs over where a heading falls, or if it is essential or not. The point is that speech has an impact, whether it helps others, or it hurts others.

Every interaction we have, every day, in some small way changes creation. Anyone who has grieved and experienced a word of kindness from someone knows that what is said has an impact on us. What one person says to me sends effect from them to me. What I respond sends effect to them. That is am impact on creation because we are all one in God. Words can heal a wounded psyche. The sacraments are symbolized in words. Speech and words are holy.

We are in creation--yes, as creatures--and every moment of our lives we interact with creation. Our actions have impact on creation, obviously, thanks to global warming, deforestation, etc., so our words have an impact on the entire spiritual order whenever we speak. So it is even more important that we watch out for the idle word that hurts, or the put down so subtle we're not even sure what it meant until after the harm is done.

In my own life there have been many times when I hurt someone else, and regreatably, it was on purpose. Usually I was responding to some hurt they had inflicted on me. It doesn't matter. Hurting others is hurting others, there is no way to slice it and justify our use of hurtful words. Even in idle speech, which usually is gossip dressed in finer clothes, we hurt others by reputation. Or we build up false images of others, thereby making it nearly impossible for them to be as grand in another persons eye, because we have over stated our case.

"O you deceitful tongue." How true the psalm. "You love all words that hurt."

This calls for conversion. Guarding the lips is hard work. I pray to God that there be grace enough for me to learn it.

Friday

It's 4:42 in the morning. I got up at 4am so that any coughing that needed doing, could be done and over with by 6:15 Mass. Coughing during the silence is so disruptive that I've stayed away, so as to not disturb everyone else in the church. But, Oh, do I miss morning mass. This morning I'm going to mass and there are no two ways about it.

There is something wonderful about these pre-dawn hours. The silence is complete, and with no one else awake, the silence can be kept. The Vigil psalms are some of the best each day. For the sake of clarity I should say that waking early has always been the way for me. It's not some heroic effort to get up early and pray, it's just what is already in place in my life. Filling the time before sunrise with prayer is a blessing. Some people think it's special that I get up so early, but I think it's just the way my body is made. The only place choice comes into it, is the choice to pray.

Humility Lessons

There is only one reason why I am still sick after two weeks--I don't have insurance. It's very easy to identify with the poor when you face one of their problems; lack of medical care. In so many other ways I am not poor. A house to live in, food to eat, those are not hallmarks of poverty, or humility, but not having proper medical care...

What I am learning is patience, which is the handmaid of humility. There is no special reason why I should have medical care when others do not. I am not a special case. There does exist an obligation to my body and to my life, but just because I'm Steve doesn't mean that I deserve medical care one bit more than any other person on earth.

There is a certain social justice aspect to all this, but at this point in my life I am focused on the humility. The first thing was facing the fact that I'm not special. The next, and most important, is how those things, like insurance, cause us to think that we are indeed special.

An imagined illustration: "I went to the doctor today. If not for insurance the office visit would have run $75, and the medications $200. How do poeple do it without insurance? I feel so for the poor."

Imagined illustration from someone else: "I am sick and have no insurance. I am poor."

What does this mean? I don't know, but so far, my sense of "specialness" is crucified.

Prepping Up My Autobiography

Today's post is going to be a short one because I've been working on my spiritual autobiography. It's a job I've put off for decades because I'd confused spiritual autobiography with confessional writing. Well, who really wants to write out a life baring confession? Not I.

So, it's been on my mind today. Also, my list of people to pray for is starting to grow. One way that seems to be working is to recall their names several times a day. Sure, a specific outcome is wished, but when it comes to lifting them in prayer it doesn't seem wise to tell God what that outcome ought to be.

Like I said, a short post. Today I end with the Salve Regina

Hail, holy Queen, Mother of mercy,
hail, our life, our sweetness, and our hope!
To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve,
to thee do we send up our sighs,
mourning and weeping in this vale of tears.
Turn then, most gracious advocate,
thine eyes of mercy towards us;
and after this our exile,
shew unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.

Cosmos and Damien, and the Martyrdom of Coughing Humiliation

Saints Cosmas and Damien. An Optional Memorial, so the Ordo at Gethsemani listed it. The gospel reading, of course, had only the most marginal realtionship to the thought of martyrs. So in honor of another feast of martyrs, I offer this reading from Breviary.net Go down the page to Lessons IV through VI.

Writing like that is full of power when read in the context of Vigils, and with the Responsories. I especially like this:

Ye endured pitiless torment until it was consummated in glory. The tormentors did not wear you out. Nay, rather ye wore out your tormentors.

Even though those of us in the USA generally don't have to worry about being tortured for being Christian, we do know that the Trappists' have martyrs. That happened in the 1990s, so it is possible to still die an ugly death for your faith. Now, the vast majority of Christians are not called to be martyrs. What we are called to do is to put to death our inordinate desires and affections. And we know how hard that is to do.

It is a martyrdom on its own. Facing ugly truths about ourselves is another kind of martyrdom. Some would rather face a death than to face some of their ugliest truths. Yet, it is only when we face those truths, with all the sticky interior stuff that goes with it, are we able to offer it to God. Until it is offered to God it's just a hard time in your life. When it is offered to God, it becomes something holy.

Fully Human

Today I feel fully human. It is a relief to get up and not spend the next forty minutes hacking and blowing my nose. All that remais for me to do now is to thank Almighty God for the improvement.

The mass gospel today is Luke 8:16-18.

"No one who lights a lamp conceals it with a vessel or sets it under a bed; rather, he places it on a lampstand so that those who enter may see the light. For there is nothing hidden that will not become visible, and nothing secret that will not be known and come to light. Take care, then, how you hear. To anyone who has, more will be given, and from the one who has not, even what he seems to have will be taken away."

That last verse seems almost heartless. It could be read to mean that the poor are only going to get poorer. Yet, in the context it refers not to material goods, but to spiritual goods. Or, to humility. The reading of the verse that seems most applicable is when the goods are faith. I'm sure that more learned people would have something more profound to say about it, but I think this reading is one where we are forced to stand before God with nothing, and realize that it is a mystery.

In a way, it could be a Christian Koan.

Sinus Infection Last Stand

Just when I thought it was safe to venture out into the world again without spewing nastiness to everyone in the area, two bouts of serious coughing and choking convinced me that I wasn't ready. Tomorrow is doctor time. I hate going to the doctor because I don't have insurance. A job, Lord send me a job!

I didn't go to Br. Alban's funeral for two reasons. One, I didn't want to disrupt things by hacking all through the mass. Two, to me, a funeral is a private thing. I didn't really know Br. Alban. Yes, I'd seen him around, but we never talked. I felt that by going all I would have done was be a voyeur.

Something more disturbing is on my mind today. Why is it that when I am sick I can't keep control of my mind? That really does bother me. All summer I have worked hard to keep watch of my thoughts, to guard my lips, etc., and one week of sickness blows it all out of the water. No, I wasn't indulging in sex fantasies or anything like that, but the thoughts were wild just the same. Here and there and everywhere, and not one thought made a lick of sense. It's made me realize that I am still subject to the body. The body got sick, and the mind went wild.

Pray for me.

Death of a Trappist

Br. Alban died and his body rests in the church. Around the clock one of the monks will be with his body, reciting psalms, until the burial tomorrow. Fr. James told me Alban had MS for over thirty years. Thirty years is a long time to tolerate a wasting disease. Many people knew him, and the funeral will likely be packed.

It was beautiful to see the monks in choir, and Br. Alban's body, in his cowl, layed in the aisle. There is a great deal of dignity in that. In life, as in death, he was a trappist. At his head is the crucifix, at his feet the paschal candle. On the floor a tasteful arrangement of flowers. He is not forgotten amongst the monks, and his physical presence in the church drove that point home.

The whole thing speaks of loving care, and makes me feel the presence of those who suffer and die alone. They do not have loving care. It causes me to ask myself what can I do to help with the loneliness and suffering? People lay in hospitals, in nursing homes, in their own homes, and they are alone. It must feel like the whole world has forgotten you.

The problem is just too big. There are too many lonely people, forgotten people, discarded people. How do we respond to this?

Meditation

"I ask God from the wealth of his glory
to give you power through his Spirit
to be strong in your inner selves,
and I pray that Christ
will make his home in your hearts through faith...
[that you] be completely filled with the very nature of God." Today's English Version


Why use the Today's English Version, also known as the Good News Bible? In the past there was a paraphrase called The Good News, but Today's English Version (TEV) is a translation, not a paraphrase. The translators were careful to use the most clear and unambiguous words to render the truest meaning of the words, without any doctrinal slant. Also excluded was any effort to reproduce in English the sentence structure and grammar of biblical languages. So far, this is the only translation I have found that uses the phrase "inner selves."

A new way of seeing things; a different slant; the path not taken; all of these describe a moment offering repentance. The grace comes by acting, holding the attention upon that new way. That must be what is asked of us when a moment of graces comes--keep your mind free and open to God. Let God act. That is being "strong in your inner selves."

"I ask God from the wealth of his Glory to give you power through his Spirit." Imagine it, the gift of strength in our inner selves, is a direct gift of the Spirit from the "Glory" of God. Glory? Inner strength, or grace, is an act originating in the Glory of God? From God, yes, but from the Glory of God?

How extraordinary that is. Simple humans given something from the Glory of God. But, is glory just another empty term? First look at the dictionary meaning.

Glory

n. pl. glo·ries

1. Great honor, praise, or distinction accorded by common consent; renown.

2. Something conferring honor or renown.

3. A highly praiseworthy asset: Your wit is your crowning glory.

4. Adoration, praise, and thanksgiving offered in worship.

5. Majestic beauty and splendor; resplendence: The sun set in a blaze of glory.

6. The splendor and bliss of heaven; perfect happiness.

7. A height of achievement, enjoyment, or prosperity: ancient Rome in its greatest glory.

8. A halo, nimbus, or aureole. Also called gloriole.

intr.v. glo·riedb, glo·ry·ing, glo·ries

To rejoice triumphantly; exult: a sports team that gloried in its hard-won victory.

We see from the first definition that it is "great honor" to have glory. To receive part of that glory is also an honor and a distinction. Adoration, praise and thanksgiving are all parts of worship, so the Glory of God in us helps us to worship more fully. It may open us to the full splendor and beauty in all of creation, so that we might enjoy it. Glory in us will help us achieve our vocation with truth.

The last to mention in this post is the phrase "that Christ will make his home in your hearts through faith." It seems to imply that along with the glory of God making us strong in our inner selves, we also receive Christ into our hearts. What a generous offering of self (for God) and what blessed people we are to receive.

Dizzy, but Happy

Part of the fun of infections are the little side effects, like dizziness. It's not serious, but enough to keep me from driving a car. The road to Gethsemani from Bardstown is too curvy for me to try to drive out there this morning.

That doesn't stop happiness though. No, I don't wanna sing the Ren and Stimpy "Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy" song, but I am happy that when I wake up my thoughts turn to God. There is something wonderful about reading the long vigil psalms while you wake up, the words gradually making sense. That way the thoughts are trained to focus on the center--God.

My Lectio for the past two days has been on a couple of verses from Ephesians 3.16-17, 19b.

"I ask God from the wealth of his glory
to give you power through his Spirit
to be strong in your inner selves,
and I pray that Christ
will make his home in your hearts through faith...
[that you] be completely filled with the very nature of God." Today's English Version

The implication that inner strength comes from the glory of God, is astonishing. How often do we think about it that way, that the strength we pray for comes to us from God's own glory? Or, that we can be filled with the "very nature of God?"

During the course of my life I've read Ephesians many, many times. Yet, reading those verses were like the first time. Lectio is so powerful a tool for prayer that I haven't yet exhausted the verses of meaning.

Intecession: In Sickness and in Health.

At three this morning I woke up unable to breathe. No, I wasn't dying, but I spent the next twenty minutes in the bathroom coughing and blowing my nose. Believe it or not, I actually found something spiritual in the experience. Vulnerable.

It was, after all, only 3:15 in the morning, so why not. I sat on the side of my bed, grabbed the notebook where I keep the Gethsemani psalm scheme, drank OJ and then started Vigils.

It softened my heart. It was a sense of openness so powerful it nearly made me cry. For some reason, tears have been around lately, and that's not all together a bad thing. It's happened enough in my life that it's clearly not sadness, or even illness, it just comes from time to time. Usually, it is tied to something spiritual. I think it is due to my commitment to Intercession.

I know that we are told to pray for other people, and that we do it in the liturgy/mass/bedtime, but there's more to it than that. While I wrote earlier that it was easy, and it is, I hadn't understood that a deep shift in my heart was going to take place. Even though I just started talking about it, I've been praying about intercession for years. I didn't understand it.

It seems easy enough to understand, but that's only the surface. There are depths. That seems obvious enough, still, it is surprising when the chasm opens beneath your feet and you find yourself in a much more open place, inside your own heart!

May all beings be happy.
May they live in safety and joy.
All living beings,
Whether weak or strong,
Tall, stout, average or short,
Seen or unseen, near or distant,
Born or to be born,
May they all be happy.
-from the Metta Sutta
Sutta Nipata I.8

Tuesday is Sick Day

Today, the sinuses I fought all weekend have blossomed into a full blown cold. I'm living on Zicam and Sudafed-PE. That's just the normal situation for this time of year, and I accept that. What is bothersome though was trying to say vigils (since I was already awake) and having a heck of a time keeping track of where I was in the psalm. Usually when I wake up, I'm wide awake. This morning I'm awake, my body was in my room, but my mind is in Ft. Smith, Arkansas, or someplace equally distant.

Today is just another day in Ordinary Time, however, there is a memorial of St. Januarius. Funny, you would think someone named Januarius would be remembered in Janurary.

And what about the pope? You have to wonder what he was thinking. A sure way to start trouble is to insult Mohammed. How would Christians feel if a muslim cleric said that Jesus was an effete pansy? We wouldn't like it. And how is the pope going to live with himself once the reprisals start?

This post is all over the place, and I'm sorry about that, but sometimes the brain just will not shut up and let me have peace. It's just part of being sick, I suppose. Anyway, I pray whether my mind knows it or not.

Intercession Is Easy

During the weekend I realized part of my vocation--to be an intercessor. It's so obvious now that I think about it. Praying for someone is not a matter of work or particular effort, it is as simple is calling them to mind and holding them before God. It's not a time consumer, it's not a way day dreaming, it is a purposeful moment in time where you hold another person, or an entire group of people, in your prayer. They are present with you when you pray for them. Bringing others before God in your prayers is somehow participating in the mystery of redemption. At least it seems that way to me.

The wind was blowing when I walked out the door for mass. I'd had sinus misery all weekend, living on medications, which I was able to stop taking today, so I couldn't tell you with any accuracy what, if any, memorial or feast today is/was. Fr. Elias was celebrant, and at the sermon time he talked about the new translations. How in the revised missal it was be "Lord, I am not worthy... you to come under my roof..."

Change threatens. The English speaking church is less than thrilled that Rome has decided to take a dominate position about a translation that is not native to them. My position is...who cares. The church can be just as much of a distraction as the media. The moment we get involved with church politics is the moment we stop guarding our thoughts. What will be, will be, when it comes to humans and history. Sweating a translation is not something worth fighting to the bitter end. At least it's not to me.

Intercession is worth doing to the end. As silence grows in my life and I become more attuned to the inner abyss, the more the more obvious it becomes that devoting energies to prayer, and not to getting into heated subjects, is the way to go. Energy dissipates, but isn't destroyed. Putting energy into prayer is every bit as powerful, and effective, as those whom fight on the frontlines in every struggle.

People who lead the way in social justice, global issues and rights, etc., they are the soldiers of Christ, without doubt. The work they do is holy. But they will not have the energy to stay faithful unless they are supported by the energetic prayer of others. It is a vocation to pray.

This is where my instinct for imagery comes in, again. Right after visiting Gethsemani for the first time, I had an image of the prayers of the contemplative monks and nuns of the world, are the energy that keep the world going. Lay people must do this too.

The Big Retreat is Over

Whew! What a weekend. It will take weeks of prayer to really discern all the meaning and those Bernardian "Sweets," of the weekend. There is so much to the charism as yet unexplored that it is tremendously exciting just to be a part of it. The need for identifiable community has been met. I now know what they look like, at the very least.

If any should come to the guesthouse this year, I'll get to see them again.

One thing for certain. I will offer the entire group each morning at mass, and in the liturgy. Intercession and remembrance.

Lay Contemplatives of Gethsemani

It's Saturday afternoon on the day of programs for the retreat of LCG. I met a lot of people, and believe I have made some friends. There were two sessions this morning which were informative. One thing that did strike me was how strange it all is to be with all these people! My experience of Gethsemani is very much alone. It was nice to have so many people in the place.

While I was meshing with the crowd of LCG it began to dawn on me that each person present was exactly like me. We are all on the same path. It's like a long line at the grocery store. We need the food, so we stand in line. We need God, so the LCG forms...no, not a line--a chain of partners. Each one is on their own path, and each path intersects the other, in the Cistercian Charism. I ask you, is that a miracle or what?

Feast of the Holy Cross

It was a blessed thing to be able to attend mass this morning at the monastery. The blessing was all the greater because today is the Feast of the Holy Cross. Now, we all know that this is about St. Helena going to the Holy Land to find the relics of Jesus passion.

Did she find them? I don't know.

Does it matter? Not in the least.

You see, the cross is about us in the most intimate way. Jesus was stretched out there, with nails in his hands and feet, an obnoxious crown of thorns digging into his head; not one part of him was not in pain. Now, think about your life in your moments of suffering. When we suffer, we know that Jesus has felt the same pain.

That all sounds just right according to doctrine. It's true and I don't doubt it. But does it say anything beyond "ouch?" Yes! It says "this is not the end." We are also told that the cross has bought our salvation. Then, at the Resurrection we are redeemed. Take your sins and problems and nail them to the cross. Do it in your mind if you have to, imagine it. It helps so much. Or be a napkin flying in the wind, and become stuck on the cross so that your entire being is saturated with the blood of Christ.

Without it we are lessened. I think John Donne said it best. The cross itself was under attack by the Puritans who wanted to ban all images of the cross. For John Donne the cross was his living reality.

Other Responsibilities

Today I was unable to attend mass at Gethsemani. I have to be in Lexington early, and going to mass would have set the whole day back by an hour.

Instead, I said the psalms for Vigils, and what a wonderful set of psalms it is today. Psalm 78 (77) was for the first nocturne, and even though it is a history psalm, it is one of my favorites. In the Book of Common Prayer translation of the psalms it says, "He led them with a cloud by day; and all the night through with the glow of fire." That is an arresting image, one that is full of outer and inner meaning.

Outer meanings might include the possibility that they were following the light made by a volcano, and that is perfectly acceptable to me since in the Jewish tradition God acts in and through creation. The inner meaning is much more rich. Many times I have been in spiritual night, straining to see anything, and then in the distance perceive a "glow of fire." Yes, it is in the distance, not a place that I can run to by sheer force of will. Yet, it leads me on even in the darkness.

Visitation Time for Gethsemani

I'm not exactly certain what it is the Visitor does, but he was there today. He sat in Abbot Damien's place, and was celebrant at mass. Today was a votive mass of the Holy Spirit. All the assisting priests wore red stoles, and the celebrant wore a shocking red chasuble. Another odd thing, the place was packed with people.

The morning mass always has a few regular folks. Since I started attending back in June, they were already there. Their establishment at the place, that feeling of belonging, is wonderful. We all observe the rule for silence. There is very little, if any, chatting going on before or after mass. Less eye contact is made than is usual in a parish.

On Sunday's the usuals are there, plus about a hundred or more. Sunday's can be crowded. Of those hundreds are the ten or so that come only on Sunday morning, but they come every Sunday, and sit in the same place I like to sit, the monks choir stalls. Afterwards none of us chat. We might meet and smile, and even speak, at the Holy Water Fount, but other than that we don't stand around a chat. No messing about in each other's lives.

There is a great joy to be found in that kind of worship. Our community of the Third Church, as I like to call us, functions best in our anonymity, and the love of the place that each of us shares. I love these people without knowing them, because they love the Cistercian way. Who knows what their lives are like? God knows. And we know each other by our worshipping selves, souls, and bodies. Whenever we meet there, we are at worship.

This is a long post already, but the theme of visitation was alluring. The mass of the Holy Spirit had something to do with it too. As the monks pray for the Spirit to search their house, we too must call on the Spirit to search our house.

Not So Ordinary, Ordinary Time

My mother is having a ct scan of her lungs today. Pray for her.

Ordinary Time is hardly ordinary if you consider the range of gospel readings in the lectionary. Feeding miracles, healing miracles, nature miracles; all fall under the generic title of Ordinary Time. While there is no particular status accorded to the readings, they do tell us the most about Jesus earthly ministry: his actions. We might better honor the summer gospel readings by renaming them to more accurately describe their gist. We could call it Miracle Time.

St. Peter Claver

St. Peter Claver is not someone I knew much about before today. If you follow the link you will find a reading at the bottom of the page I heartily recommend. He was anti-slavery long before the United States was even a country. It's always good to look back in history and find examples of people who made a stand, even though all the evidence was against them.

Isn't that what the saints are for, really? To be examples to us of those who came before and stood up for the right, not the fashionable way, not the way of prevalent economics? While I didn't know of St. Peter Claver before, you can be sure that I will not forget him now. The world needs him more than ever. What would he say about the current debate on illegal immigrants?

St. Peter Claver, pray for us.

Feast of the Birth of the Virgin Mary

This morning my phone rang once at 4 a.m. No one was calling, Bell South was turning it off! At a more reasonable hour we turned the phone back on and I mentioned that a ringing phone at 4 in the morning is a sure and certain way to anger your customers. As if they cared...

It's always a delight to think about the Virgin Mary because she is the most human connection to the physical body of Jesus that we have. From her DNA came Jesus' bone, blood type, his entire personhood came from her. For that alone she is worthy of every feast she can get. Everytime there is a feast of the Virgin Mother I am amazed yet again at the magnificence of our religion. God became man in the womb of a virgin.

Morning Mass When You Don't Want to Go

I really didn't want to go to mass this morning at Gethsemani. I went anyway. I woke up with a head full of reasons, good reasons, not to go to mass. It seemed like a slap in God's face if I were to let those reasons prevent me from standing before God at the Eucharist, as I feel compelled to do, every day. Humans do some of the best creative thinking when searching for reasons not to do something. The first was "I'm tired." The second was, "I don't have clothes ready." The third was a variation on the I don't want to theme.

I did not want to go. Yet, part and parcel of the spiritual life is to not turn away from my vocation just because of a desire to spare myself some bother or inconvenience. For me, it is part of my conversion of life. And, oh, what a difficult task that is. The first lesson is to stay away from reasons "to not," when it involves something connected to the conversion of life. As Fr. Michael Cassagram said in his paper "Toward the Formation of LCG Members,"

When the spiritual journey gets rough, prayer is often the first thing to suffer; and yet isn't it at this moment that we are most in need of divine help and mercy? God asks us sooner or later just how serious we are about the journey.

It is the question of seriousness that demands the examination of every motive in each part of my life. Nothing can be left by the wayside, all must be brought into line with the single hope that I place, without reservation, in God. That hope for conversion requires me to no longer find the negative reason.

Opening Thoughts

This blog is dedicated to my journey in Lay Monasticism, as it is explored, sought, and hoped for, in the Cistercian Charism. It's not about becoming a monk that lives in the world.

The Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani is a holy place. A place of silence (silence being something from which humans run very fast) so deep, so profound, that the presence of God is perceptible. It brings a person to their deepest self -- the meeting place with God. Or put another way, God's conference room.

A note on my imagery. I use a lot of imagery, and that bothers a lot of people. All I can say is I'm sorry, and go right on with the imagery, because it is the way I think. I'm a fuzzy thinker, seldom following any type of logical progression. I think in themes that are translated into images, and from those Image Monatage, I arrive where I was going. So, "God's conference room," is not a cheap attempt to get a laugh, it is a very serious image. In a conference room uncomfortable situations sometimes arise, rather like walking into what you think is an empty conference room, only to run into the CEO coming around the corner, and you both falling down!

Running into God is just like that. The only difference is, God doesn't fall down.

This is the story of my journey to God.