The Perilous Realm

I think about my mental illness sometimes. I think it is not a defect, but a positive. I find I live between the real world and the perilous realm of demons and angels and dryads and nymphs and unicorns and fairies. Often I think that what we call the real world is only dust and dreams or for some nightmares. And what matters is the other world, the perilous realm. The world of demons and miracles where everything we do has eternal consequences and where the faith can move mountains and the spells of witches can cause sickness and death and the angels can cure them.

Often I think that before Christ came the demons had more power in the world and the perilous realm was closer to the real world and there were more links between it. But after the Crucifixion the perilous realm faded. But some people see it more than others. I have only seen glimpses. I can sense it more than see it. I am not that gifted and I am not practiced in the arts, except for wandering alone with no master, or alone except for my angel and the saints and God who look over me.

We all live in both realms at the same time but we can usually only see ourselves in the real world. But in the other realm we are slaying dragons or carrying the one ring to the fire mountain, or more likely fighting in Sauron's army.

Downy Woodpecker

 On my walk today I saw a Chinese lady with a blue and green parrot on her shoulder drying laundry on a clothes line. She waved to me and I waved back. And on the tree in my back yard I heard a knocking and I knew it was a woodpecker. But it was not the red-headed woodpecker I am used to seeing. It was a black-headed one new to me. It is apparently a downy woodpecker. There are some in New York but this is the first time I noticed one. All the previous woodpeckers I have seen in trees near my house have had red heads.

"Aurora" or "Dawn"

I do not think I blogged about my new pet goldfish. I bought her in mid-September. I asked on Cathinfo for advice about a name. Someone said to call her "Aurora" or "Dawn". I thought that was nice, so now she is named "Aurora" or "Dawn."

I have had bad luck with fish in the past, with them often dying. I hope that is not the case with "Aurora". I have one fish. One is enough. The pet store owner said in my tank I should not have more than one goldfish so one it is.

She swims back and forth. I purchased a set of Greek columns for her to swim around and hide under so there will be a prop. She swims for me, but often she hides behind the heater, which is currently the only obstacle in the tank. I hope soon she will hide behind the columns and look like a pretty little girl. When the columns arrive I will take another picture and put it on my blog.

Sweet "Aurora". How I love to watch you eat the little flakes I offer to you. How you swim around so swiftly to give thanks to the good God for creating you. Only for a moment, only for a moment, but your life in finitude is more devoted to Our Lord than the life of Saint Francis in infinity. Because as a fish everything you ever did and ever will do will be in accordance with the will of God but even the greatest of Saints, except for Our Lady, is guilty of sin, so their lives were not completely conformed to the will of the good God like the life of "Aurora."

Prayer

I pray less now, but I pray more. I find myself always thinking about God or holy things. My natural state is to pray subconsciously. When I walk I like to sing to myself the Salve Regina. It comes to me naturally. But people are always telling me to learn prayers and say prayers. That is beyond me. I pray. Does it matter the words that one says when one prays, if one is praying to the good God and not the demons? Is prayer merely opening up one's heart to God and one's vulnerable heart to the redeemer. They say when you stare into the abyss, the abyss looks back. But it is even more true that when you stare at the good God, the good God looks back. But you do not always see him. If your heart is flesh and blood you see him and he sees you. But if your heart is stone you look but do not see, you cry out but are not answered.

What I said is not always true. It is just me thinking.

Eucharistic Adoration has become important for me now. I like to look at Jesus. I believe he is there. I pray "Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto thine heart."

I will go now.

I have my prayer book with my morning and evening prayers and sometimes I pray the Angelus and I pray my Rosary and three Hail Marys in the morning for me, for another, and for another. Those are my prayers. The rest are unscripted. But know I try to always think of the good God. Not always, but often. I often think of him. Often.

Crows Bathing

As I was walking I was listening for birds and saw a lot of sparrows bathing in the dirt (I don't know why they do that). Then I decided to go to the park. It used to be called Jackson Pond. There are benches and a fountain that shoots water high up into the ground only to fall back down into a pool. I often see birds bathing there. I found a stone on the ground and placed it in the pool. Then I sat upon a bench below a trees full of turning red leaves and looked at the fountain and the pool.

In the distance I saw birds flying into the trees. Not the rock doves which are always flying around in packs or resting on the apartment buildings. These were black. Were they starlings? Or were they crows? Then suddenly all of them came flying towards me and towards the pool. Hundreds of them. Crows more crows than I have ever seen before and they were all coming towards me. Almost more birds than I have ever seen birds before. They swooped down in to the pool and started bathing. There were a sparrow or two among them as if inviting them into their pool. The sparrows are always there. The crows took turns in groups bathing in the pool and drinking. Some of the crows had little balls in their beaks that looked like eyeballs. They were not purely black but their feathers were colored with blues and pinks and purples and reds as if they were covered with oil and shining in the sun. When some of the crows were done bathing they flew into the tree above me and others came to drink and to bathe. After a while, several waves the crows started flying away.

I kneeled down to pray the Angelus and as I was on my knees the last of the crows flew away. Then I walked home. I sung the magpie song. It was a very spiritual song. I never knew there were so many crows around. Crows are  birds of ill omen. But I did not feel any fear. They were just birds who live in the city, which I did not know there were so many. Now I have seen them bathe and drink at the fountain.

Benches by the Library

Walking to the library there is a tree where all the songbirds sing. Above the benches where the drunks lay. They lay on the benches twitching as the songbirds sing their song and the squirrels look for nuts. Today I saw a black squirrel climb from a little tree to a big tree. Above the benches where the drunk lay. He is an important person in the neighborhood. Is he the rightful duke or the earl or the king? Why else would the songbirds serenade him though it was not night?

I Have a Million Ears on a String

I have a million ears on a string.
I cut them from my many lovers.
I have a thousand and three.
I put them on my bookshelf
And at night I hear them sing.
The sound of an ear has many waters
Like a stream running over a dry river bed.
Come into my soul and feel me shiver.
I have a soul, I have a soul.
Come into my soul, it is not empty,
And us three will live together
With a thousand and three.
The ghosts who are not there.
It is only us, you and me and he,
Us three.

My relics on the bookshelf.
The forty lashes a thousand and three.
In the night please come to me.
I am alone except for he.
There are no thousand and three.
Come to me in the night for I am alone.
A little warm blood to remember you by.
In a cup on a saucer warmed on the hearth,
And mixed with sake.
A little whiskey in Earl Grey tea;
A cure for rheumatism.

I always remember the thousand and three.
I know all of their names,
But I did not love them;
I love only he.
But my love for him is bitter;
I dare not call it love.
But come to me and I will promise
To love thee with a real love.
It will only be you and me,
And he. I can not shed the he.

Will you risk the dragon and try to set me free?
The dragon, the dragon,
And good Saint George died
A thousand years ago.
Nobody believes in dragons, in their roaring fire.
I do not believe in dragons, I know them.
I know he. But there is nobody alive
who will set me free. So come to me at least,
So it can be you and me and he.
And I promise to forget about
The thousand and three.

A poem by Julian Moore.

This one is called "The Harlot" but that is a common title and you can write a million poems about the harlot so I should not monopolize it for this poem, so I titled the post after the first line "I Have a Million Ears on a String". I just wrote it and did no editing so do not look at it as a finished product. I am not a good poet, I just write down my thoughts. I never studied rules of verse or wore a corset. But it is good to write down things that come from the soul. I am listening to Bizet's Carmen as I am writing this, so that is serving for s bit of inspiration.

Karen

Had a good talk with Karen. We talked about the devil. We both have the same diagnosis. She gets visits from God and the devil. I said it is hard to know when the devil comes and when God comes so you have to question everything and pray about it. You don't want to be lead by the wrong spirit.

Terry was talking about girls. He was saying how girls think they are hot stuff and are full of themselves because of social media. I said, well you've got to find a girl in Church. And he said the girls in Church are the same. And I said well if you can't find a girl in the world or a girl in Church, where will you find a girl? God will find one. Well he is new to our chapel, he mostly knows Holy Innocents. He said Marie Therese is nice. She is a Holy Innocents girl. I wonder what he would think about the lovely Helena, her sister, and the beautiful Cecilia. I imagine the best of people I know from Church. But I told him that God has a perfect girl for you, but the devil also has a perfect girl for you and you have to be careful because sometimes you can not tell them apart. And Terry and Barbara thought that was profound and nobody ever said that to either of them before. Is it an original thought? I don't think so. So I told them I already met the devil's perfect girl for me but I did not know who God's perfect girl for me is. I would say Gemma because she is. But she is not a girl for me, she is a saint who died in 1903. But she is perfect for me. For some reason I think about girls even though I am too old and unable to marry because of my condition. I want what I can not have I guess.

Pub

We went to a pub after Mass. Father and Sarah invited me. Five of us. Sarah, the beautiful Cecilia, Patrick, Father, and I. We watched football. I did not talk much. They were all good people.

I did not go out with the normal crowd for coffee. I will go back for coffee next week. I cannot afford 23 dollars every week. I am poor. But it was good to go out with different people. They are good. All of us should be together.

At Church today we had music. The lovely Helena played the organ and we sang two hymns. I really liked the music. I thought I preferred the quiet, but today I preferred the music. Probably because it was played by the lovely Helena. She is just a child, but I look up to her. Father says all she does is study and play the organ. He also said we had the best organist in the SSPX in our chapel. We are lucky to have her.

Crying is good. I can cry. Just a short post.

O John

O John who lay his head on Our Lord's breast in the Cenacle because thou wert innocent and pure. Who stood at the foot of the Cross when all the apostles fled. Who wrote the greatest of the Gospels, the Word Made Flesh. Pray for us in our vileness and impurity. Hope for us in our innocence. We are children of the devil, let us become children of God. Make us white as the virginal snow which falls from the heavens every day in some corner of the world as the manna fell from heaven for forty years in the desert. Let us be fed by the Word made flesh. Do not abandon us before the throne of the devil. Lead us up to the throne of the good God. The Cross you stood witness by for three hours on Good Friday to atone for thou falling asleep in the garden while Our Lord was in his first agony.

Poem # 2

It is Winter,
         after Noon.
Little children are carrying
Groceries for Mother.

A leaf falls, the Moon is near full,
The cars in turn are hopping.
The ladies are flutter like Flakes of Snow,
Another leaf is dropping.

Everything is in it's Place,
And all the Names are true,
Crickets brushing Cobble Stones,
And all the Jays are Blue.

The Music of the Spheres
Is Singinging along.
Robin and his Merry Men
Are dancing to this song.

Oh No!
There is only a Drop
                             left
                                 in
                                   Our
                                        Glass!

But Baby's there to sweep the sand
The world is safe at last.

Hooray!

Poem # 2 by Julian Moore

I wrote this a decade ago and just discovered it in my brother's Gideons Bible tonight. I wanted him to edit it but he did not. So I guess he thought it was perfect.

The Parable of the Onion

I find The Brother's Karamozov to be greatest novel written by a fallen man that I have ever read. The Novel is a fallen art form. The cry of Adam after the fall, trying to make sense of his misery after he lost the gifts of God. The tragedy of Don Quixote is that he loses the faith in the end after he is defeated and dies a broken man. But the Brother's Karamazov is a Novel of Hope. Dr. White sees in it an act of hope and a sign of the future conversion of Russia in fulfillment of the Fatima prophecies. Alyosha is the fictional character I adore and relate to the most. Who most touches me. People say he is boring. I see that as a sign they are bad people. I often think about Dostoyevsky and hope he is in heaven. He was buried in a Russian Orthodox Monastery. Thinking of EENS, we would assume he is damned, but we can always hope for a deathbed conversion to Catholicism. I would hope Dostoyevsky is in heaven more so than nearly any other man who died apparently outside the visible structures of the Church.

The two most important parables in the novel are "The Grand Inquisitor" and "The Parable of the Onion". I will be silent on the first and focus on the second. There is a wicked soul in hell who only ever performed one good act in her entire life. One day she saw a beggar at her door and she gave her an onion. So after she was damned her guardian angel told the good God about the onion and the good God told her to take that onion and offer it to the damned soul and if he could draw her out of hell using that onion she could be saved. So the angel offers the onion to the damsel and starts to draw her out and she is getting near out of hell. The other souls see her and cry out. "save us! Let us hold on to thy skirts so that we too can get out and be saved!" But the damsel was wicked. She did not want to help out the other poor souls. She wanted to be saved alone. And she had no faith. She thought that if the other souls grabbed on to her the onion would break. So she started kicking the other poor souls and crying out "It is my onion, not yours. Mine!" And as she cried out "Mine!" the onion broke and the damsel fell back into hell, deeper than she was before and remained there forever. Because she no compassion on her fellow souls in hell.

I feel that I have been through hell and I hope to be drawn out. I want to hold onto my onion until the sweet sweet end. I will try not to kick the other poor souls who cling on to me but instead to help them come aboard and maybe some of us will be drawn up to heaven and have peace in the bosom of Abraham forever and ever.

P.S. I saw someone from the hospital today. I will not share his name because it should remain private. He was Jewish. He looked old and feeble in the hospital and he was old and feeble today with a nurse walking with him.

A River of Tears

I have learned how to cry again;
A river of tears.
It is not a torrent but a leaky faucet.
For a while I could not cry,
But now I am able.
For my sins, for those of the world,
For my poor Emily;
Was she ever real or just a fig tree
Of my imagination?
A bitter fruit or a dove?
I am not innocent. I am so very innocent.
I am a crow. I am a dove.
I am a poor sinner.
I speak to the pines;
I pine away for my poor poor soul.
I am innocent as a dove as wicked as the raven
Who gouged out poor Gesmas' eyes
after the crucifixion
While he was still alive.
He screamed out in pain,
But God did not hear him.
For his blasphemies before the face of our redeemer,
Repentance was not for him.

There is a mouse in our house.
My mother wants to kill him,
But I am kind to him.
I want him to stay.
I will feed him tea and oranges
That come all the way from China.
Did I tell you that my father
Looks just like Leonard Cohen?

I cry when I think about the Annunciation.
And I cry when I think of the Crucifixion.
The conception and the redemption.
I am not afraid. I have no fear,
For the good God is with me;
He comforts me and give me peace
In this world of pain; For pain is dear to me.
It helps me grow and mature.
Without pain there is no progress,
Without progress, no victory.
Through pain and through prayer
Suffering and giving thanks
The two-handed engine of Saint Peter
That the poets sing of in forbidden poems
The songs of victory of the losers
The poet who won the laurels of earthly victory
But lost the heavenly crown of glory
The boxer who won the corruptible crown
But lost the eternal crown in heaven.

They speak of Esau selling his birthright
For a bowl or lentils. I have eaten lentils
And they are sweet and lovely.
I would not trade them for the world;
They give me solace in this world of pain.
But my soul is worth more than a thousand
Bowls of lentils. An infinity of lentils.
The pearl of great price is bought cheap
It only costs a few Hail Mary's
But its value is beyond measure.
I will feast on Mondays and Tuesdays
And Thursdays and Sundays.
I will Fast on Wednesdays and Fridays
And Saturdays.

The Cross, the Cross, my kingdom for the Cross.
The world for the Cross, but who would make that trade?

I had a vision in the hospital. A man sold his soul for a year worth of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he came back and sold his soul again for a month of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he sold his soul again for a week of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he sold his soul again for a day of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he sold his soul again for an hour of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he sold his soul again for a minute of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
Then he sold his soul again for a second of pleasure,
And the pleasure passed and he was bitter.
He kept on selling his soul again and again;
And each time his soul was worth less and less,
And the pleasure gained was less and less.
But the devil made the trade;
Again and again and again.

In my vision he did not die;
His soul was dead of course,
But the Judgment had not yet come.
He was too ashamed to turn to the Lord.
His sins were too great.
But we must pray that he does so turn.
With the help of the Blessed Mother,
He must come before the seat of the Good God.
Before the Cross, in the wedding garment
Fashioned by His Mother, and beg the pardon
Of the Good God he so often blasphemed.

And all will be forgiven, but he must turn.
As often as you sell your soul to the devil,
God is willing to pay the ransom.
All he asks is to love him and forgive others
As you have been forgiven.
And he will soften your heart of stone
And make it flesh and blood.
And you will cry a river of tears
For a year; for thousands of years
And you will have peace and happiness
For the rest of your days
And you will be buried happily
In an unmarked grave.

But the angels will remember you and the good Mother too
And nothing on earth will be as beautiful as you.

A poem of happy tears by Julian Moore.

Blue Parakeet

I was walking around the neighborhood and I saw a bird that looked like a blue parakeet. She was with a bunch of sparrows as if they were friends. They were eating together so I watched them eating. When I came closer they flew into tree branches and I watched them for a while.

On my second walk I went to the bird store and talked a little to the owner. I saw blue parakeets there so I told him that I saw one outside flying around. And he told me how some people buy birds from him and take them outside and let them fly away. "For Good Luck". And I said how then maybe they could live in the wild. Then I wondered if the birds fly back to the bird store. So he sells them, people release them for good luck, they come back to the store and he sells them again. That would be some racket. But I like the store. It is one of my stops on my walk to Atlantic Avenue.

Alexandra

This weekend we went to Alexandra's Christening at the Russian Orthodox Monastery. There were not a lot of people there. It was a wonderful trip. Some pictures:

An old Ford in front of the Tally-Ho Restaurant.

The Pier at Glimmer-Glass Lake. Look at the sky. The clouds were beautiful.

The bug at the Russian Monastery. Isn't she ugly? And the fruit. Are they poison? It was a wonderful ceremony. When I think of Russians I think of the schism and wonder. The adults would be presumed to be guilty of the sin of schism but the children are innocent and are baptized. So I looked at the children playing and crying and thought how they were little angels and hoped that they could hold on to God's grace for as long as possible and find the true Church before they are guilty of schism. The beautiful little children Nikolina and Alexandra.

The Noonday Demon

I remember a woman from the Hospital. She was a Russian Jew. She showed me a book called "The Noonday Demon". I thought she was a devil. She wanted to be friendly with me but she kept on clawing at my eyes. She offered me as a job tutoring her daughter. I don't know what is real. We played checkers. She had her own rules and did not tell me what the rules were while we were playing. I would try to move and she would tell me that no I was not allowed to make that move, but she never told me what the actual rules were.
Larissa
Leia

Vermin

"I am a worm and not a man." I remember reading about that phrase from the greatest of all the Psalms and the priest said that the word worm, "vermin," referred to a specific type of worm that was crimson and lived in wood and had little legs kind of like a centipede and that it was a symbol of Christ on the cross.

So when I was younger I took magic mushrooms and wandered through the woods and fell deep into darkness and sin.

When I converted I had to find my way back out of the woods. So I prayed and I wandered and I prayed. I remember wandering through the woods, chasing birds and licking mushrooms and smelling flowers, wandering blindly, praying the Rosary constantly, sometimes in tears, sometimes consumed with joy, thinking I was led by the spirit of God. Walking around, praying, carrying stones, climbing trees and fighting trees. I did many strange things, trying to be humble.

And I remember deep in the woods picking up an old rotting stick seemingly at random and breaking it in two. And I saw a red worm curled up within the wood now exposed and I thought it was the vermin that I had read about and I had encountered Christ in my prayer, the Word made flesh. The symbol in nature as I found him while wandering through the woods. I did so many strange things and now I think I am among the living. I am trying to be good now.

Listening to my parents. I want to be like a little child like Christ said we must be. Like the Little Flower, who I follow, though I stubbornly prefer my Gemma.

I am bad to my parents. I will try to honor them more and obey better. I get frustrated at the mess.

Andy

Coming out of Church after praying the Rosary before Our Lady of Guadalupe I met Andy. He was sleeping on the stoop of the Church. When I opened the door I woke him. He said hi and told me his name and I told him mine. He said he worked for the MTA and was a retired bus driver. He had a tattoo to prove it. I pointed to two cans of Keystone Ice and he said they were filled with water, not beer. He told me I was a good guy, then he said I was a great guy. He held out his hand and I shook it and then he kissed the back of my hand. I told him I was not a priest and he explained himself. Then we went our separate ways. I walked away, perhaps he entered into the Church to pray.

The Angelus bells are ringing. Behold the Haindmaiden of the Lord. Be it done unto me according to thy word.

He kissed the back of my hand like I was the king and he was my subject kissing my ring. I do not wear a ring.

I have a silver coin from China I want to have it melted into a ring to give to a girl. I want to get a golden coin from China and have it melted into a ring to use as a wedding ring for my future wife. I wonder if I will ever get married. Since I got out of the hospital I have had the desire to get married. In the land of legend it is easy. In this bourgeois world of mediocrity and well deserved pain it seems impossible. I try my best to live in the world of legend. The Angelus bells are still ringing. In the world of my dreams The Angelus bells never end. The Midnight bells chime on and on until the morning comes. The morning bells chime on and on until noon comes. The noon bells chime on and on until evening comes and the evening bells chime on and on until midnight. But I am just a poor sinner. That is how the bells sounded to St. Francis. They are silent now. They rang for almost six minutes. Not bad. They are more beautiful than the songs of the birds.

The Wedding

Father told me that I could go to the wedding so I went. I have never noticed such a subversion of the natural order as at that wedding. It was a Unitarian wedding of a Unitarian and an apostate Russian Orthodox and the minister who presided was a woman. The songs were pop music played on a classical guitar by the pied piper of the evening. I pointed out that one song was by Elton John and my brother said I was right, it was "Your Song". The Bride's Father was wearing a pink suit and was the most hen-pecked man I have ever noticed. The step-mother was balding and looked like a witch. Everything was upside down. It came to mind how one of the greatest curses is the curse to be ruled by women. On the way back at the rest stop there was what looked like a lesbian couple abusing two babies. I felt for the babies. Such monstrosities are "legal" now. I looked at the babies and smiled at them. What should I do when such things are supported by the force of law?

I am now fond of praying the Office of the Dead in front of the tabernacle in Church. The living, the living, pray to you as I do this day. Let the dead bury the dead. Often I feel as if I live among the dead and that all of the people I see are dead an nobody lives, except for a few good souls and the little children. I love little children and know that when I see them they are either little angels or little doves. The angels are the baptized and the doves are the unbaptized.

At the wedding I thought the queen was young Nicolina. I told Michael and he asked why not the other baby, Alexandria or Sasha? And I told him because she is not yet Baptized. The Christening is on September 8th. I am not sure if we are going yet. My mother wants to go. My father does not. I would rather go to Mass in the City than go to an Orthodox Christening. But I can witness the birth of a soul to the life of God, and can pray that she gets out of Orthodoxy and into Catholicism and see the angels come down from heaven to bless one of the little ones and welcome her into the kingdom of heaven with her older sister, Nicolina.