The Jesus Prayer

You know how the pilgrim felt saying the Jesus Prayer?  That pure joy with the pain in his heart?  I know that's true, because I've felt that twice.  The first time it happened, I'd been walking around for hours at night in utter despair, saying the Jesus Prayer, over and over like a zombie.  I wasn't expecting any mercy or anything at all, I was just completely overcome with hopelessness.  Then it was like I began to rise up out of it.  It was surprising.  It was weird.  It was completely unexpected, and when it happened, I couldn't quite believe it.  I kept going up and up and up, until I was overcome with joy.  I didn't know what to make of it.  Everything was suddenly all right!  It was amazing.  Just flat out amazing.  I kept walking, and then I felt that pain in my heart, like it was described... like a hot nail.  It wasn't intense, so I don't think I was very far into a real state of prayer; just at the beginning.  But it was still recognizably there, and I remembered the pilgrim, and I put it all together, and I almost lost it all because I got so excited.  But the state persisted until I got home, and got in bed, and closed my eyes, and drifted off in the most blissful state of contentment I'd ever felt.

The next day I was so excited when I woke up.  I couldn't wait to get outside and walk so I could say the Jesus Prayer again, over and over.  I reached a similar state of bliss, again.  Everything was beautiful, and there was nothing wrong with anything, anywhere, and everything was just indescribably joyous and beautiful and right.  I spent the day like that and on into the evening, but I didn't get the pain in my heart that time.

The next day I was determined to do it again, but it never quite caught that time.  After that, I just kind of forgot about it.  I've tried to get that back again, but have never been able to since then.  That was back in April of 2010.

A problem

I wrote the other day about being stuck.  Well, that's certainly true, I'm stuck for sure.  It's a problem, and a tough one.

A few of years ago I had the first inkling of a feeling of an urge to become a monastic.  It was back during the summer of '09, when I was talking to someone who was telling me how they would like to visit a monastery.  It was a very tiny little realization of a thought, but it was definitely there; that first hint of a desire to become a monk.  Later that year, while I was attending a vespers service in Tyler - it was October of '09 - I had another epiphany, and for a while after that, I recognized that old feeling again, but this time it was a desire to become a priest, or a deacon, or something.  A reader, maybe... I'm pretty sure I'd like to be tonsured as a reader, at least.  Anyway, that was back when I thought I was going to be married soon, but since that relationship ended back in April of '10, I've thought more and more about moving to a monastery to see if that kind of life suited me.  The feeling that I should become a priest has subsided a lot.  I don't think I'd make a very good one, but what the heck do I know?  The urge to move towards monasticism, however... that one has been growing for the past three years.  I've prayed often for God to make this feeling stronger and more clear in me if it was His will that I should become a monk.

Lately the desire to check out a monastery has been growing, becoming stronger and stronger.  There are times when I'm absolutely sure that's what I want to do, to become a monk and live a simple solitary life saying the Jesus Prayer constantly.  Maybe even a hermit.  The problem is, I'm stuck.  I'm an addict... I'm addicted to drugs, alcohol, caffeine, food, comfort, and everything else material.  If I could just get rid of my need for substances though... if I could just eradicate that from my life, there would be no obstacle that I would feel that I couldn't overcome which would stop me from just moving to a monastery flat out and abandoning society.  It's the addiction that is the clincher.  It's a problem, and a tough one.

If I could just get out from under this problem, I think everything would be ok.

A dream - Some kind of explosion

Clint and I were touring a factory that made chocolate, and we watched huge chunks of it going down these ramps into machines that just tore them into component atoms for processing.  I thought it was a little more than was needed for chocolate, but what did I know?  I imagined a human going into one, and was immediately horrified.  I couldn't help it.  I kept imagining it.  I mentioned it to Clint, and he agreed... yup, that's horrible.  The tour ended and we were outside.  It was a nice campus, in California somewhere, with modern glass buildings and tended grass and ordered pathways.  There were a lot of people around, everyone going about their business.  Then somebody started yelling, and he ran by and brushed me slightly as he passed, and he was yelling for everyone to get back inside, get back inside, now!  I looked around and people were confused, and starting to panic.  I looked for Clint, but he was gone.  I ran up one of the paths to the top of a hill near one of the buildings so I could get a better view of what was going on.  I saw a few flashes, like lightening, and then felt something pulling on my arm.  I looked down, and little kid, about 5, was gripping my hand for dear life.  I got to the top of the hill and could see across the valley, which was being lit intermittently.  I dashed for the safety of a nearby building and the kid got left behind.  Then there was a blinding flash and the loudest sound ever, and extreme heat.

Tonight

Tonight a pretty girl blew me a kiss.  Later, another pretty girl gave me a kiss.  There was a party, but I didn't stay.  I don't know how to be at a party anymore.  Like I ever did... but I'm an old man now anyway, so I've been out walking and reading, like I normally do.  I'm tired now, so I think I'll sleep.  I really don't know anything at all, not a damn thing.  The kisses were nice though.

Thoroughly

I think I'm getting an inkling of what I need to do.  I need to get away from all of this.  I want to do that too.  I'm stuck here, though.  I feel so very thoroughly fucked.  It seems unfair, I'm stuck.  Not just a mental thing.  I'm STUCK.  I feel like I've been handed the key to everything, but the key is red hot, molten, full of painful heat upon heat upon heat.  I can live through that, but who can decide to grab hold of something that hot and keep hold of it until it cools down?  It's not a matter of just deciding.  There are consequences, physical, painful consequences.

Weirdly

Last night I was walking home just north of University Dr. on Sherman near TWU, next to the Christian Academy, when a guy approached me on a bike with a headlight.  He stopped near me, and I stopped to regard him.  He said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were lost."  I said, "No, I'm not lost, but do you need directions?"  He said, "Oh, no, I'm ok."  And he rode off, turning north on Locust.  Weirdly.

After I'd crossed Locust, I saw a bike with a headlight coming south.  I thought it was the same guy, but when he got closer, I saw that it was a different guy.  He rode down almost to University, stopped and turned around and came back in my direction.  Then he turned around again and rode towards University.  Then my sister tells me about this guy who was kidnapped and sexually assaulted near UNT two nights ago, and these two guys pretty much match the description of those two guys.  I'm not afear'd, I have a vicious punch with a pair of cuticle clippers, and a laser that will blind somebody stupid enough to get close to me.  But I thought the situation was decidedly odd, and warranted an observation.  Oh, here's the article.

article 

Emily Howell

I came across this on YouTube, a computer composer 'named' Emily Howell.  I thought it was pretty cool, that a computer had written this music.  I got excited and showed it to my sister Chey, to listen to.  Her reaction was pbbbttthhhht.  Oh well, you can't please everyone.  Here are some snippets though.

Walking and talking

Synopsis:  just what the title says.

Talking to God

Is it ok for me to tell you that God spoke to me tonight?  That it's only when I'm crying out with utmost pain as I pray that I hear Him?  This happened tonight, and it's the third time I've felt God speak to me, and this time it wasn't just God but the Theotokos.  I had a bare, very dim glimpse of her, after I was praying in anguish, while I was walking home, for Jesus to please, please please tell me what to do to give up my will and to let Him take over, because I don't want it anymore, and I'm just clueless as to what to do.  After about 30 minutes of this constant crying out, I got an answer, and it felt like it was from the Theotokos, telling me what I had to do.  Answering me, directly and clearly.  And that it was that I have to give up substances to prove that I don't want my will anymore.  This was very clear.  I asked, and I was answered.  It doesn't get clearer than it was tonight, and the very very vague presence I felt was of the Virgin Mary telling me this.  Is it ok to tell you this?  I don't know if this is supposed to be private, but I want to say something.  I feel so blown away, happy and also completely devastated that the answer is something that is so hard, that it will require such suffering.  But nothing compared to being crucified... my selfishness again.  I feel despicable when I think of how weak I am, that I quail at this prospect. 
Anyway, I don't know.  I'm afraid.  I don't know if this is something I should talk about.  I'm still so entirely screwed up, and that's part of the problem, that I should believe that, because it's what stops me from going forward, that belief.  Talking to God is hard.
It was a beautiful thing tonight, walking home through the quiet wilderness of north Denton, a rare spot, there in a wide space bordered by trees and water under the moonlight.  It was just the beautifulest thing, lying on the cold ground with a fish eye view of stars, the cloud shrouded moon, and the heavens above.
Good night.

My other blog

Here's my other blog:

That Hideous Dream Journal

I found an old collection of dreams that I'd typed up, dating from back to 2002 and up to 2008, which I had thought was lost forever.  I found them as an attachment to an old Yahoo e-mail that I'd sent to myself back in 2008, and so I decided to post them all there. There are a couple of hundred in all.

All of the more recent dreams since 2008 are posted too.  Dreams, dreams, dreams!  Most of them are really f'ed up.  There are still about a hundred more dreams from January 2006 up to September 2008 that I haven't posted yet.  I'll get to it.


There are also a lot of recurring themes to my dreams.  Here are the most common ones:
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I can float, usually by lifting my legs off of the floor and placing them in a cross-legged position.  It is often a very pleasurable feeling and I'm quite proud of myself for doing it and want to impress other people with my ability.

My dream will take place in Russia or Mexico, or some other foreign country.  The location is the only thing consistent with each recurrence, because each time the dream is unique.

I'm either floating by myself or in an aircraft of some type and I am worried about coming into contact with power lines.  If I'm in an airplane, it's usually the takeoff that worries me, that we won't gain enough altitude to clear the power lines.  Sometimes I am floating in the sky and am surrounded by power lines on all sides and there is now way around, above, under, or through them.  I hardly ever actually come into contact with them.

UFO's will appear in the sky.  They are usually very large and spectacular in technical appearance with many different colored lights everywhere.  I am always overcome with the feeling of knowing that this is real, that I'm actually seeing this UFO and that it's not a dream this time.  I am always yelling to other people, showing them the UFO in the sky.  I am always very scared of the UFO.

Matt and I are involved in some type of very hurtful conflict.  Matt shows no regard for my feelings and sometimes is physically violent with me.  It is very depressing.

Charles and Darwin, sometimes both, sometimes individually, hate me and want to do me harm.  Occasionally it is Clint. 

Jeff Archer is present and I am usually intimidated in some way by his success compared to my seemingly failed life.

I am back in high school or college.  I've skipped a class all semester and it's time for the test and I know nothing about it.  Sometimes I have to go back to high school and go through my senior year again, even though I know I've already graduated.

I am riding in or driving a school bus.  Sometimes I am in high school band going to a football game.  A lot of the time I am riding home to the old house in Omaha.

I'm in the military.  Usually I'm either fighting a battle, or presented in a parade rest formation in front of civilians.  Sometimes I am regretting that I have joined and am looking for a way out.

I'm either married to or in a relationship with Stacey Hagan.  I feel very close to her and our relationship almost seems forbidden.  Sometimes I am in bed with her and we're having sex.

Christy Page is my long lost girlfriend and we are finally together again.  I'm always very happy.

I am married to Tammy Jernigan and sometimes we have a baby.  Occasionally Tammy is not present but I am the father of a newborn baby.  I am always filled with anxiety at the prospect of being a parent.

I look up into the sky and a spectacular cosmic vista is displayed.  Sometimes I am aware that it is night time but the sky is blue with daylight.  I can see planets in the sky and nebulae and huge tracts of glittering stars, even in broad daylight.  Sometimes I am looking through a telescope and witnessing these vast displays.  I am always awestruck.

I am working at DuPont again on a probationary basis.  I am usually afraid that I've missed a scheduled day and will lose my job again.

Tornadoes.  They are always very scary and spectacular and very close to me.

I am living on Mars, or viewing it from space.  It is almost always in some stage of being terraformed, and I always feel good when I'm on the cold surface.

I am in the bathroom and can't get the door to stay shut and it won't lock.  I am always very anxious that someone will walk in on me.

I am living at the old house in Omaha.  Sometimes it has been worked on and being rented out and I am out of place there.  Often I will go to grandma's house in dreams like this and grandma will be there, but she will be crazy.

Sometimes grandpa will be alive but it is as though he is cheating death, and nobody can mention the fact that he died years ago or he will have to return to the grave.

I am looking at a huge cityscape.  The buildings are all many times larger than anything in real life, and their staggering size is immensely impressive.  Sometimes I'm flying over it, other times I'm driving towards it.  Usually it is a skyline that stretches across the horizon, rising into the sky and dwindling with perspective, dwarfing everything by its presence.

Martians tripods from The War of the Worlds are invading.  I am always running away from them, trying to hide, always in imminent danger of being captured.

I am skating on rollerblades and I can really skate.  I feel so free while I'm skating.

I am shooting someone over and over but they won't die.

I am in an elevator and it is moving erratically.  Sometime it goes upside down.  Sometimes it falls.

Wonderful, vibrant green landscapes and vast, blue undulating oceans are prevalent.

I am aware of getting older.  I look back on the years of my 20's and grieve for my lost youth.

I am mucking pills from grandmother.

There is a lot of activity in the sky, due to comets and meteors.  It is usually spectacular and prone to change quickly from a harmless display into a foreboding danger.

I have parked my car, usually at high school or college.  I am wandering through the parking lot looking for it.  I never find it.  I am always filled with strong anxiety and am afraid that it has been stolen.

I am crying.  There seems no end to the tears.  It usually feels very good to cry, as if I am releasing some kind of pressure which has built up inside me.  At the same time, I am filled with sadness and remorse.

I'm on the moon.

I'm at school and dialing the combination on my locker.  I'm always afraid that I'll forget it.  Somehow I always get the door open, even when it seems that I've forgotten the combination.

There has been a nuclear war.  It always seems very real and I always say to myself 'this time it really happened, it's not a dream'.

A dream - Grief

It was like it used to be back in the fur days, when Matt and Mom and Ed and myself were all working together.  Chey was working with us too, and we were all stationed on an island, in a similar situation as to the way it was in Ketchikan, except we were all billeted in barracks.  As I was trying to sleep one night, I heard Leah's voice outside, near the door.  I woke up fully and listened, and heard that she was talking to Nick.  I discovered that they had both come to the island to work.  As I lay there I grew more and more anxious as I listened to them talk.  Their conversation became an argument, and at this point I decided that I didn't want to be near their situation, so I got up and got dressed for a walk.  As I was stepping out the door, Nick walked off quickly and Leah looked after him with desperation on her face.  She looked at me and smiled this sad smile, and stepped towards me.  I said to her, "I can't do this again.  Do you know how that makes me feel, when you come to me for comfort in your heartache, knowing that you're in love with him, that your heart belongs to him?  It feels like your hand is inside my chest, squeezing my heart and crushing it down to nothing."  I walked away from her.

The next day, mom and Ed and Matt and Chey and myself were walking to work together.  Our path cut across the island through some very pretty woods, kind of like the path in Michigan on Mackinac Island.  As we walked, I got weaker and weaker as my grief increased, and I began to stumble.  Mom was there beside me, holding me up and helping me as I hobbled forward.  Ed and Matt and Chey were way ahead of us, and finally we were so far behind that we were alone.  We kept going though, and I wept silently.  We finally got the the place were I was supposed to work, and mom let go of me and stood there looking at me.  She asked if I was going to be alright, and at that point I collapsed to the ground and began crying uncontrollably.  It was all back again, the old grief I felt when Leah left, just as sharp and clear and ubiquitous as it had been back when it was fresh.  I sort of stepped outside of myself for a moment and saw myself crying, and as I pictured myself there in my sadness, I thought that there would never ever be enough tears to cry it all away.  I lay on the ground and curled up in a fetal position and cried, "Mama, mama."  She came over to me and lay there with me and held me.

In other news

A Denton cop gave me a ride home the other night at 4:00 am when I was out walking and reading, right before it started to rain.  He knew me from the store because he comes in all the time, but I didn't recognize him immediately because it was dark and his flashlight was shining at me.  He had stopped his cop car halfway off of the road and onto the sidewalk, effectively blocking my path, shone his flashlight at me, and said, loudly: "What are you doing out this late?  Turn off that flashlight!  Come over here.  Turn that phone off.  Get over here now!"  Shit, I thought.  I walked over to him, and he said, "Hey man.  What's up?  Just kidding, you aren't in trouble.  You need a ride home?  It looks like it might rain."  I of course recognized him up close, so I didn't shit the imminent brick which I'd been preparing.  He gave me a ride home, and wouldn't you know it, I wound up leaving my phone in the cop car.  What happened was this: when the next cop on duty brought my phone back to the store (I dunno how he figured out who's phone it was and where I worked, my name isn't anywhere in that phone), everybody at work thought I had been mugged or kidnapped or thrown in jail or killed.  It was a real hoot.

Lets see... in other news, I banged my head so hard the other night in the cooler at work I saw stars for a second. On the way home from work I walked into a telephone pole. That was the second time I banged my head. My skull has served the purpose it was designed for.

Oh.  And I broke my hand a few weeks ago when I fell while I was out walking and reading at 2:00 am.  Just a hairline fracture though, and it's almost back to normal.  I still have to wear a brace though, because it hurts like the devil with I put the wrong kind of pressure on it.  Oh, and I broke my brand new e-reader too when I fell.  I was more upset about that than breaking my hand.

Uh... what else.  Um... oh yeah.  Pinback finally came out with a new album.  Thanks, Pinback!

A dream - The official ale of Gondor

I worked at Kroger, and this guy bought some beer and left. The person after him commented about how it was crappy beer. She was bald, and looked like she was maybe getting chemo. She didn't look happy. I said, "But Guinness is great beer!" And she said, "It wasn't the Guinness," and then she left without explaining what she meant. Then ano

ther employee handed me an empty bottle and said, "This is the beer he bought that she didn't like." I looked at the bottle. It was very hard to read, but I finally made out, Valemir. I held the bottle high before me, and said in a mighty voice, "Valemir, the official ale of Mordor! I mean... Gondor!" The other employee looked at me like I was retarded.

I read the side of the case the bottle came in, and it turns out that Valemir is a beer that goes along with this game, some kind of role playing game, and it was explaining how Bort Nansky (Bortniansky?) had even bought the game board that goes with it, for the really hard core players. I thought to myself, what makes this Bort person special, that he should be recognized for buying the board? Unless he's the only one who bought the board, ever. And if that's the case, what if it's a crappy game that nobody buys?

So then I was at home, looking at that bottle, and I saw that it didn't say Valemir, it said Vunemusko! WHAT? Well, it had been hard to read. So I held it aloft, and said in a mighty voice, "Vunemusko, the official ale of Mordor!" I mean... Gondor!" And that didn't sound right. So then I said, "Domo arigato, Vunemusko!" to my sister as she walked into the room. She looked at me like I was retarded, so I did it again. I wouldn't leave her alone with the Vunemusko thing, and I was bowing like a Japanese lunatic, and my head hit her head as it was bowing, and she said, "OW! that hurt, you know!" And I said, "Yeah, I have that recorded too. I think I'll save that one."

The most kickest-ass shirt in the known universe

The end of a long shift at 3:00 am at 7-Eleven, wearing the most kickest-ass shirt in the known universe. A customer gave this to me after I told him that the one he was wearing was awesome.

Dead president in the muddy water

Tonight as I was walking home from church, I stepped over a mud puddle.  One of dozens.  Anyway, I happened to look down as I was stepping over this particular puddle, and I saw a vague, kind of blurry, barely visible thing that looked like a 10 dollar bill submerged in a silt saturated mud puddle.  It was like looking at... remember that scene in The The Two Towers when Frodo looked into the water when they were crossing the dead marshes near the Dagorlad battle plain and saw those dead faces?  It was like that, except the face was Alexander Hamilton.