Holy Door

There is a “Holy Door” at St Meinrad Archabbey, in St. Meinrad, Indiana.  These special doors are usually opened only once every 25 years and for a limited time. Pope Francis asked for these special doors (located in certain churches all over the world) to be open earlier than the normal interval to focus on the quality of mercy. You get a plenary indulgence for walking through and reciting a prayer in the church (along with a few other obligations). Each church that has a Holy Door should have information on what is required.

From reading the letter Pope Francis wrote about it, he wants this sacrament available to everyone.  He did not indicate that this is just for Catholics.

Here is the sign at the door in St. Meinrad.

door1

 

Here is the door from the outside.

door2

Here is the doorknob.

door3

Here is the door from the inside.

door4

Normally these doors are locked or in some cases even bricked up.  They are never doors that you would just happen to walk through – they are never the main doors.  Not all Catholic churches have these special doors set aside for this sacrament.

What is a sacrament?  It is “An outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual gift.”  These doors are reminders of the grace and mercy that God grants us – has granted us, will grant us.  We, being forgetful beings by the very nature of our being human, forget that God loves us unconditionally, and constantly welcomes us back when we stray.  We forget that God is the father that runs to greet us when we have wandered away, just like in the story of the Prodigal Son.

Going through a Holy Door doesn’t save you – you are already redeemed by Jesus.  That bill has already been paid.  But going through reminds you of that gift, reminds you that you are eternally loved.

A Plenary Indulgence is not a “get out of hell free card”, or a “get into heaven free card”.  You’ll have to look it up to know what the Catholic Church means by that term.  As for me, I don’t hold with the idea of indulgences or of penance, because they go against the message of Jesus.  Indulgences say that the Church, in the person of the ordained ministers of the Catholic Church, is able to forgive you for your sins, which is not something any human can do.  That is something God, and God alone, does. The idea of penance indicates that you have to pay for your sins yourself, which would mean that you are ignoring the price that Jesus paid for you on the cross.  Yes, we are to constantly be on guard for our sin, our times of “missing the mark”, and turn away from it and turn towards the Light that is God.  We are to make amends for our actions, certainly, but we can never buy our way into God’s love – that is something we already have.

Rattle not OK

When I was young, my parents had bought something for me for Christmas that had a sign on the outside of the box saying “Rattle OK”, meaning that if you shook the box and heard loose pieces rattling about, that it was normal – nothing was broken. But for us, a “rattle” is not a good sign. If we are scattered – if pieces of our selves, our souls, are loose, it is a sign that we need help.
Think of God as the good parent that God is. If you are carrying a heavy burden (of worry, stress, fear, anxiety…) hand it over to God to take care of it. It is too heavy for you alone, you cannot bear it. But God, the kind and capable parent, can carry whatever is weighing you down and knows what to do with it.
We are trained by the world to be independent, to bear up under incredible stress, to solve our own problems. However, Jesus teaches us that God is more than willing and able to help us if only we ask. We are not made to be alone, to do everything ourselves. To rely solely on your own ability is to put yourself in God’s place. This is a form of idolatry – it is to say that you do not need God, because you are enough. Instead, give your burdens and brokenness to God, the faithful and capable parent, to take care of.

Who do you follow?

I like that the word on Facebook when you don’t want to read everything that someone is saying is “unfollow”, rather than something else like “hide” or “block”. Not following some people is a good idea.

I don’t want to follow the people who continually refuse to take care of themselves and then complain about it. I don’t want to follow the people who, through every fault of their own, are obese or have cancer or in miserable relationships or jobs. Facebook is not the place to continuously complain about migraines or insomnia or sinus headaches. If they are happening that often, go to the doctor.

I don’t want to follow people who feel it necessary to share their fear about the government, the environment, or the future. Their need to “educate” me about their pet fear of the week is disturbing. I don’t read the news for a reason. The news is full of bad news with no way out. The news and these people show only the sickness and don’t offer the cure.

I don’t want to follow people whose every post is a passive aggressive rant about the world. Where they start off everything with “Dear (fill in the blank)” – someone that they are not friends with – such as “Dear person who pulled out in front of me at the Walmart shopping mall” or “Dear postman who lost my important parcel”. They complain about how that person did something wrong that adversely affected them. They’re addressing their anger to people who don’t deserve it. The people who are reading it are not the people who harmed them – they are their friends. I’m tired of listening to their craziness and having them pour their anger upon me – someone who doesn’t deserve it.

I won’t follow these people because I’m afraid I’m going to become like them. I’m afraid that I am going to drink the Kool-Aid along with them and become just as miserable as they are. They are addicted to their own pain and they want to share it. But mostly I don’t want to follow them because I’m afraid of where they’ll lead me.

Age limits?

Our society is doomed.  We either are raising children who are too stupid to have common sense, or we are overly litigious.  Both indicate the failure of people to take personal responsibility for their lives and think ahead before they do anything.

Check this out.

age1

This is for a credit-card sized magnifier with a light.  Seems simple enough, right?  Yet it is “Not recommended for children under 12.”  What is so dangerous about it that it can’t be used by a child who is 10? Or 6?

And this, discovered on the same day.  age2age3

 

It is a scarf (emblazoned with the Marauder’s Map from Harry Potter) that is for ages 14 and up.

What world have we found ourselves in (or created) that 13 year old  people can’t wear a scarf safely?  Or 12? Or even 8?   Sure, I can see a very young child might get tied up in it and choke himself. But only for 14 and up?

Perhaps you recall seeing these?

age8age11

Why would anyone think it would be a good idea to put their child in an enclosed plastic tub?  If you anyone is that dumb, doesn’t the Darwin award come into effect?

And if humans are so inept that we can drown in a few inches of water in a bucket, then why are we even still around?  Baby animals can take care of themselves far better than humans can very soon after being born.  Kittens can live independently at 6 weeks of age.  Meanwhile, humans can’t be left alone until they are at least 12, and that is only for a few hours.  Some can’t even support themselves at 50 and still live in their parent’s basements.

There are other warning labels around, to advise against hurting yourself. Here’s some great ones about fingers and hands.

age10age9

Here are ones that are sarcastic.

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Books that open your head

Alexander, Christopher W.  A Pattern Language: Towns, Buildings, Construction

Anderson, Walter Inglis   The Horn Island Logs of Walter Inglis Anderson
Arndt, Ingo      Animal Architecture

Bantock, Nick   Griffin and Sabine

Barklem, Jill       The Secret Staircase

Becker, Aaron      Journey

Bender, Tom      Silence Song and Shadows: Our Need for the Sacred in Our Surroundings

Berry, Jill K.      Map Art Lab: 52 Exciting Art Explorations in Mapmaking, Imagination, and Travel

Brown, Patricia D.       Paths to Prayer: Finding Your Own Way to the Presence of God

Brown, Peter         Mr. Tiger Goes Wild

Cameron, Julia    The Complete Artist’s Way : Creativity as a Spiritual Practice

Castaneda, Carlos   The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge

Chapin, Ross  Pocket Neighborhoods: Creating Small-Scale Community in a Large-Scale World

Cloud, Henry      Boundaries: When to Say Yes, How to Say No to Take Control of Your Life

Collins, Ross     Doodleday

Dass, Ram     Be Here Now

Dick, Philip K.        Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Egan, Tim        The Pink Refrigerator

Elgin, Suzette Haden        Star-Anchored, Star-Angered

Ewing, Al     I, Zombie

Foster, Alan Dean      Cyber Way

Gaiman, Neil     The Sandman, Vol. 1: Preludes and Nocturnes

Goldsworthy, Andy    Andy Goldsworthy: A Collaboration with Nature  (anything by him)

Hall, Michael     Red: A Crayon’s Story

Hallendy, Norman     Inuksuit: Silent Messengers of the Arctic

Hoff, Benjamin     The Tao of Pooh

Kalman, Maira        The Principles of Uncertainty

Lawhead, Stephen R.      The Skin Map (Bright Empires, #1)

L’Engle, Madeleine      A Wrinkle in Time

Lerner, Rokelle     Affirmations for the Inner Child

Lehman, Barbara    Museum Trip

MacBeth, Sybil       Praying in Color: Drawing a New Path to God

Martin, Bruce T.        Look Close, See Far: A Cultural Portrait of the Maya

Miles, Sara       Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion

Neeper, Cary      A Place Beyond Man: The Archives of Varok
Pohl, Frederik      A Plague of Pythons

Pratchett, Terry   Small Gods (Discworld, #13)

Rex, Adam      Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich

Roach, Mary       Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

Rumi, Jalaluddin      The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems

Saltz, Ina      Body Type: Intimate Messages Etched in Flesh

Seuss, Dr.      Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are?

Skloot, Rebecca     The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

Smith, Keri      Wreck This Journal

Snodgrass, Melinda M.      The Tears of the Singers

Spangler, Ann       Sitting at the Feet of Rabbi Jesus: How the Jewishness of Jesus Can Transform Your Faith

Swift, Vivian      When Wanderers Cease to Roam: A Traveler’s Journal of Staying Put

Tall, Stephen     The People Beyond the Wall

Tan, Shaun      The Arrival

Tolkein, J.R.R.      The Hobbit

Wiesner, David      Tuesday

Willems, Mo      You Can Never Find a Rickshaw When It Monsoons: The World on One Cartoon a Day

Zeff, Ted      The Highly Sensitive Person’s Survival Guide: Essential Skills for Living Well in an Overstimulating World

 

 

Many of these authors have other books – you are more than encouraged to explore them as well. Some of these books are fiction for adults, some are nonfiction, some are for children, and some are wordless, while some are just the beginning to a series that is just as interesting.

 

 

 

 

 

Roadside memorial

grave

Another roadside memorial.  This is at an intersection on Gallatin Road, in Madison, TN (part of Nashville).  They are everywhere.  This one’s front cannot be viewed from this angle, which makes it all the more mysterious.  The front faces Gallatin, and that is a very busy road.  There is no way someone would be able to read it from there, zipping along on the road.  There isn’t a stop sign there.  This is in a between place.

 

There is a small metal tag attached to the top – it looks like one for a motorcycle.  The front looks like it is painted red. I kind of wish I’d gotten out of the car to look at it up close.

These memorials raise more questions than answers for me.

Who is this for?  Did s/he die here?  Is it to warn others that this is a dangerous intersection?

Did the person who placed it get permission to put this here?  Is this public property? Does this mean anybody can post whatever they want here?

How long will it stay? Forever?

When did this trend start, to memorialize the dead where they died?

When will it stop?  Why do I want it to stop?

Will it spill out and go everywhere – one at the desk of the person who died at work?  One on the sidewalk for the person who had a heart attack while walking her dog?

Why is it OK to celebrate grief in random places?

Why has a private feeling become public, yet anonymous?

Why am I so uncomfortable with this?  Why do I think it is low-class, gauche, tacky?

Why are they always Christian crosses – do Buddhists and Jews and Muslims and Hindus not die in traffic accidents too?  Do their families not care?  Or do they just know how to contain their grief in better ways?

Why is a graveyard better?  Why is hiding away grief better?

Are these to be seen as “memento mori” signs – reminders that you will die, that life is fleeting?

 

Be fierce (poem)

Owning your life
without fear
is a lot of work
for anybody.

It requires
a lot of energy
to get past
the immense gravity of
inertia.

But – the downside
of not living
an authentic life
(meaning the life You
were called to live,
not the one others
think you
should live)

is to slowly sink
into the morass
of an empty and
meaningless
existence.

Alien Walkers (short story)

All the ones who had survived had learned to incarnate. There was no other way to relay the information back – the signal wouldn’t cross the membrane barrier. It was sink or swim as best you could. It was a sure way to weed out the ones who couldn’t adapt quickly.
It was an ugly way to go for those who couldn’t shift, who wouldn’t, who didn’t know how or didn’t think to. Their thin gray bodies desiccated in the Terran environment, reducing them to a wrinkled mass of flexible chiton in a matter of hours. Or the crushing gravity pulled Them down, rendering Them unable to move, unable to find enough nutrients to support Their hummingbird-like metabolism. Their silica-based skeletal structure was far too flimsy for this planet, so much larger than Their own, with so much more gravity. Or Their eyes, large and round like ostrich eggs, black as a waterless well, were quickly blinded by the intense rays of a sun three times larger than Their own. The natives who saw one of Them as They truly appeared were either seeing one who’d just arrived or as a thought hologram.
They’d had some preliminary forays the safest way possible (for Them) over the years using that technology. Why bother with a true hologram which required a transmitter to be physically present, when the same information could be simply beamed directly into the brains of the intended audience? Getting the signal right had taken quite some time. Too many otherwise sane people had been reduced to drooling idiots after they saw one of Them this way. They all had to be institutionalized, blathering on about aliens contacting them. These were the ones who had money, or relatives with money, of course. The rest shuffled off the chains of modern life and took to living in shacks they made out of cardboard and adopting rats as pets. Fortunately, they didn’t know the difference. To them, the rats looked like the pets they had abandoned when they went walkabout.
Some of the early visitors to Earth chose to “walk” into those unfortunates after the fact. They were like abandoned cars – all shell and no spark. The visitors were taking advantage of their loss. Best not to leave a good vessel to waste, they thought. Sure, the person was alive, after a fashion, but it was no life worth living. There was no return trip from the place their mind had gone. Back where the visitors came from it was considered a mercy to not let a friend or family member continue on with such an empty existence. There, early termination was normal. Perhaps the soul / body match was off. Perhaps it was the wrong timeline to incarnate in. Better to nip it in the bud before it grew into an ugly weed with thorns and rotting fruit. There just wasn’t space, money, or time for that kind of indulgence in their homeworld.
As a result, there was no homelessness, no poverty, no addictions of any kind where They came from. There was no pandering, no excuses, and certainly no jails. One example of self-or-other harm was enough. There was never a second. If the citizen didn’t realize their misalignment, others close to them did and took care of matters for them. There were EVAC tubes in every town hall for just such occasions. The soul was released, the body pulverized and scattered, returning the elements to the soil from whence they came. Prayers were said, rituals performed. Within a month and a half the soul had found another body to incarnate in to try again. During that time between incarnations the souls attended a sort of rehabilitation school. This school had no breaks because they didn’t have to sleep, eat, or exercise to keep their incarnate forms from falling apart.
Everyone on the planet had been through this process countless times. It was what you did. Rather than suffer through an ill-fitting soul / body match for the duration of the life expectancy of the body, just try again.
After the first few visitors traveled bodily to Earth and had such difficult transitions, They learned. The ones who survived took the closest body They could, be it eagle, skunk, or human. It didn’t matter as long as it was mobile. A few had “walked” into cacti or trees and found they were stuck. Not only could They not locate others (either of Their kind or indigenous), but They also couldn’t leave Their new vessels like They were used to. There were no EVAC units here, and once They tapped into the collective unconsciousness of Their hosts, They learned it wouldn’t ever be likely to be an option here. Locals preferred to tough it out or make the best of a bad situation. They held on for the sake of holding on, not realizing that path was full of unnecessary suffering.
The visitors soon learned the religious stories of the objects of Their study. Several had discussed reincarnation. One even had as a central figure a man who had reincarnated in an unbelievably fast three days – but he had said that he was the heir of the sovereign deity of that region. They guessed that perhaps he was more advanced due to his lineage and didn’t need as much rehabilitation as Their souls did. It had long been suspected that certain bloodlines ran more true, but on Their planet, admission to these families was by merit, not by luck like all the rest.
They developed star travel because Their planet had started to get full. There weren’t enough new bodies being created to fill the need for souls to inhabit. As a collective, the citizens had finally realized the need to maintain green space. For a long time They had treated undeveloped land as “scrub”, not understanding that the plants cooled the planet and made it possible for them to breathe. Once they understood, they intentionally chose to limit how many citizens could reside in an area and also required everyone to plant a garden to produce their own food.
Once they all realized the dire dilemma that was facing them, all citizens chose to limit themselves to only one offspring per couple. Singles who were already celibate remained so, and partners negotiated who was going to be sterilized if they’d already reached their quota. It was simple, really, and it made sense. Rather, it made sense until there was no place for the spirits to return to.
Some started beaming directly to earth to incarnate. Very few souls wanted to stay in the null-space that was the existence after being dis-incarnated. They learned from their research that the Catholic Church referred to that space as purgatory. It wasn’t quite enough of a word to describe what it was like for Them, but it was close. It wasn’t “nirvana” as the Buddhists called the next level on, the one where you had learned all you wanted to learn and became one with the All That Is. Nor was it as milquetoast as “limbo”. It was a bit like reform school, or rehab, or where you took your car to get the dents hammered out after an accident. It wasn’t a place where you wanted to stay for long.
There were difficulties with the first downloads, as would be expected. The natives had to invent new words to express what was going on. The Germans came up with “doppelgänger”, and before that the Vikings used “berserker” when adults were taken over. In England the word “changeling” was used to indicate a child who had been swapped. Perhaps “possessed” was the right word in all these cases, as the soul of the original occupant of the body remained but was suppressed. It was as if They were carjackers, who instead of stealing the car while it was parked outside of Walmart, took it over at a stoplight and threw the driver in the trunk. It wasn’t ideal, and many of Them hesitated to do it, but They overcame Their reticence once They saw how backwards and unevolved the earthlings were. It was exactly the same as how the Europeans could justify the murder and eviction of the Native Americans. They were seen as less than animals, or not even as animate beings. It is easy to oppress others when you don’t think of them as people, or even alive. They thought they were doing the inhabitants of favor.
But then there were individuals on Earth who were able to coexist with the visitors, those whose spirits were strong enough due to their own unique soul-work they had (fortuitously) done before the unexpected occupation of the “walk-ins”, or those who were naturally blessed with flexible minds. Rigidity of thought was a certain predictor of the occupation not going well for the original soul. Trying to maintain a sense of normalcy while suddenly living in a vastly more-dimensional world was tenuous at best for those who had never contemplated anything more involved than who to vote for on American Idol.
In times past these people who adapted to an extra presence and sensory experience would have been called seers or prophets, but in a world suspicious of anything even seeming to refer to religion, they chose to remain quiet about it. Some would read the works of mystics from the past to develop words for their own understanding of what was happening to them. Some read science fiction for the same purpose, while some wrote it. It was an odd awareness, this other knowing, this extra way of feeling and seeing before and between and beyond. It was precognition, to be sure, but it was so much more. It was like hearing sound after a lifetime of deafness. It was like seeing a rainbow after being born colorblind. It was everything all at once and with no warning.
Most native souls retreated during the onslaught of sensation that was the norm for the visitors, the aliens, the occupiers, making it easy for them to control the body-vessel. Enough random access memory remained after the upgrade for the visitor to integrate almost seamlessly. Passwords were remembered, along with names of pets and friends and where their house was located. The more adept “walkers” made it seem like nothing had changed it all. The moment of the possession had seemed as unremarkable as the lights flickering when a storm was in the area. Out for a second while the transfer overlay happened, and then back to business as usual.
It was discovered that those unwilling body donors who were able to not only endure but thrive during the overlay experience either had a lot of gold in them or on them. In some cases they had gold rings on their fingers or crowns on their teeth. Some naturally had gold in their bodies, the same as most people had copper or zinc. But gold, unlike those metals, wasn’t something you’d find in a multivitamin. Some had unknowingly obtained it by walking barefoot in the forest, while others had consumed an airplane bottle of Goldschlager schnapps on a dare in college. However the reason, the gold worked as a conductor and a buffer, retaining the best of both personalities and enabling both to work peaceably together.

There is hope after diagnosis

A guy came into my workplace yesterday, obviously experiencing the mania that comes with unmanaged mental dis-ease. He was raving about conspiracy theories and the Temple Mount – said he was even frisked by the police in the Holy Land just 50 days ago.

Little does he realize but I speak Crazy fluently, being a citizen of that country. I’ve also taken classes and read books on how to safely interact with people who are on the edge of “dealing with it”. I enjoyed the challenge of the conversation, but was also reminded of how far I’ve come.

Today is marks the 17 year anniversary of the last time I was in a mental hospital. There is hope after a diagnosis. Since I started taking care of myself, I’ve had the same job for 16 years, I’ve been married for 12, I’ve published four books and I have excellent credit. You can have a mental disorder and be fine – with proper care (a lot of it is self-care).

Like many people, I went through the trap of thinking it was a temporary thing and got off the meds (which weren’t good for anyone anyway – they no longer prescribe the one I took) and went off the deep end again. I went to the hospital again (both times self-initiated) and got on different meds that gave me clarity so I could start taking care of myself. It is hard to be “normal” when the high is so vivid and interesting. Everything is connected. Life is 31 flavors when high with mania – but only vanilla when “normal”. I’ve learned how to be in the middle.

A lot has to do with getting enough exercise, eating right, and enough sleep. Writing helps me a lot. But Americans aren’t into self-care for anything – do whatever you want and damn the consequences – and blame them on someone else. This is true with every disease we have.

The only way out is to –

admit that there is a problem,

that it won’t fix itself,

that it is chronic (think heart disease, not the flu),

and that you have a lot you can do to help yourself get better. It isn’t all about the meds – but they are important.  Look through my “Survival” book list for books that will help you help yourself.

 

Most of all – remember that a diagnosis is not a definition.  You are a person who has a mental health diagnosis.  You aren’t the disease.