Santa Matt's ramblings

OK, it has been awhile but it seems there is more to this mystic thing then assembling a new toy for the grand kids. I have read and meditated long on this and I have some observations. My first thoughts were how to achieve my "Dark Night of the Senses". Should I deny all sensual aspects of my life? But then I realized that it is less about denial then changing my perceptions of sensual things. Ignore good food for bland food? No, eat the same but gain an appreciation of where it came from. Think about the person who prepared it. What are their thoughts and feelings as a human being, not just their skill as a cook. Then I thought about how will I know when I have passed through my "Dark Night of the Senses"? Then I realized it is not the destination that was important, but the journey. In an earlier post I talked about my vision of people as spirit guides. I had a vision of me climbing a mountain. God is at the top of the mountain. And as I climbed along the path I

More than a year ago, I read an article about the Zen Catholic. I found the concept of a meditative, contemplative Catholic faith fascinating. So I did some research for books on the subject only to find they are out of print and a bit rare. Then a friend of mine gave me a book. He had read it a couple of times and it excited him so much that he bought copies for several of his friends, I being one of them. The book, "The Shattered Lantern" by Fr. Ronald Rolheiser, starts out discussing why we, as a modern people, have such a hard time perceiving God's presence. Why we try to rationalize miracles both the big ones and the everyday ones. It discusses where we lost our child like ability to be amazed by the wonders around us everyday. It is pretty interesting reading. But then, it moves on to how we can regain our perception of wonder, how we can become more mystic . . . Hold on! This is what I am looking for. Fr. Rolheiser pulls from the teachings of St. John of the Cross

Mom to Mom Sales! This morning my two daughters went to the Mom to Mom sale at our church. (Even though only one of them is a mom, they like to do things together. Sisters, go figure.) Anyway, Angela took 20 boxes of children clothes, most of it from preemie through 2T. She also had assorted baby furniture, cribs, high chairs that sort of thing, all of the stuff one gathers when one has twins. She also brought two little picnic tables her husband Ralph had made. Angela priced every article of clothing she had a 25 cents. She gave boxes of stuff to Heartbeat (who collects infant needs for mothers who need help and choose life over abortion). All of the big stuff was in a consignment area. The doors opened at 8:00AM and people were lined up to get the bargains. By 10:00AM all of Angela's furniture was sold. At one point a mom and her little girl were shopping and the little girl wanted some Elmo shoes sized for a preemie. Her mom told her, "They won't fit you." To which

I got up at 6:30 am and if you know me, that is unheard of on the weekend. But I got up and went down to the First Presbyterian Church, met my daughter so we could help serve breakfast. I poured milk and juice into cups and lined them up on the serving line so the guests could pick one up as they went by. Besides hot food, cereal and an assortment of baked goods were also served. So when the guests arrived and passed through the line sometimes I would help them carry their breakfast to their table. I don't know what I expected as far as who would be there. I met obvious street people, those who have been homeless for an extended period of time. And I met the poor, people that had a place to stay some nicer clothes that maybe just needed a little help with their groceries. I met a group of what were obviously construction workers. They still wore parts of their work clothes, out of work and few prospects. And I met the lonely. Once the guests had gone through the line, the workers w

So I'm sitting in church and I am thinking about Marie, a friend of mine. A couple of years ago I went to, for lack of a better term, a religious retreat called Cursillo. After I had made my Cursillo, I started attending prayer and sharing sessions with other cursillistas, among them was Marie. I knew Marie from around church but I wouldn't have called us friends. But over the course of many months we have become friends and for some reason, listening to her witness about her faith and her responses to my witness has become important to me. I can not fathom why what she shares should seem more important to me but it seems it is. So while I am sitting in church, pondering this realization, I begin to think of all of the people that have had a major influence on my spiritual life. At the age of 12 I would walk to the church down the road, there I met Richie Massey. His friendship was my first contact with the spiritual. My next spiritual guide was without a doubt the biggest infl

So I'm reading this little meditation prayer book about the birth of Christ and today's message ended with look back on some of the times and ways God has blessed me. And as I thought about that for a minute I gave a little chuckle. Remember my blessings? Remember every meal I ever ate, every present I ever received? Remember every person I have ever met, whether I liked them or not? Remember every embrace of my wife? Everytime I held one of my children, my grandchildren or any child? Remember every time I was held as a child? Remember the people who have loved me and who I have loved? Remember the beauty and grandeur of the things I have seen as I travel the world, huge mountains, thunderous water falls, lushious forests, a perfect flower. Remember snow and rain and wind, the southern sky and the sweep of the Milky Way. These are just some of my blessing, blessings to many to count or remember all, in my limited humanity. No, my problem isn't in appreciating all of the thi