phone entry 032722

[prismaticbleed]

My new name is JOEL LAETARE?????
I've been praying so much about it. God I continue to pray; if this is true, confirm it with Your Truth, please.

But yeah! I went to Mass at NOoL for once this morning-- they're the only folks with an 8AM Sunday Mass-- and everything was UNEXPECTEDLY PINK.
That holy rejoicing, WITHIN THIS PENITENTIAL TIME, is so resonant with my soul. It is joy IN the pain, BOTH of them holy, and UNITED.

"Laetare" is NOT identical to "Gaudete": the latter is still hope for a fullness of Joy in the expectant waiting for it, but it occurs during a time of PROMISE?

ROSE IS NOT PINK!!! IT'S RED FUSED WITH WHITE!!!
THAT is why my resonance shifted to "pink"; THOSE TWO COLORS ARE INSEPARABLE IN MY HEART BUT I KEEP HOLDING THEM SEPARATELY AND IT DOESN'T WORK.
This is why!!

⭐in the Spectrum, boys are LOVERS and girls are CARETAKERS???? It's been GLOBAL in the innerworld SINCE CHILDHOOD but never really "noted" as it was so normal.
Jewel fronting w/ grandma made this point hit home today; she was totally focused on directing her optimistic charm into doting on this dear frail woman.

Rubellite fronting to drive home; staved off bloodsugar panic. She apologized genuinely for her mania, but we reassured her there was no need-- her energy was REQUIRED to keep us stable.

Dinner at 8PM WTF ;______; but God got us through. Prayer works yo. We didn't even get sick!! (Jewel~♡)

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Understanding Colossians 2=  The wisdom and knowledge of God that is held in its fullness Within Christ can only be known through love for God is love.  Therefore by knitting our hearts together in love we are able to know him And understand the wisdom of God in him.  Arguments cannot teach or Understand or reveal these truths of God.

Thinking.

 

I lost almost two hours on hollow pursuits-- adding U2 albums to the League Shuffle Songbank, looking for mentions of God/Christ in the lyrics; and looking through random Tumblr & Twitter pages for the same. But in both cases, I kept seeing ugly things instead: despair, rage, mockery, sex, violence, self-idolatry, crudity, vanity, and other satanic thoughts.

I always feel soulsick after exposure to anything like that, now. My spiritual immune system (pun intended?) has been absolutely militant lately; the slightest infection of worldliness is met with nauseating symptoms and, ideally, an equally forceful rejection of the evil germ. Unfortunately sometimes I just sit here dry-heaving and miserable; there's too much corrosive rot in my gut to expel safely; vomiting it up would burn a hole in me. I know. Sometimes "cutting out everything" in one blaze of sickened rage-- a definite RED function, God bless them, I recognize their hearts-- is too much of a shock to the spiritual body. I'm still a child, in that regard. I am weak; I still have lingering compulsive affections for some of those things, which I once apparently enjoyed but have now developed a debilitating allergy to (My Lent has been following that EXACT course of development on BOTH inner and outer respects). Although I would love to just spit it all up and have it gone, I cannot do so properly on my own. I need help. I need holy medicine. I need the Divine Physician.

I ended up talking to Laurie about it.

She commented that I was "chasing fireflies while the moon is right there," being so used to only seeing flickers of light in the dark that I didn't yet grasp the concept of light remaining constant.

Past Cores-- I think of Cannon in particular-- have lived in horrific darkness, almost perpetually so. It was their default state of existence, punctuated periodically by precious points of light that they desperately clung to and hoped for and sought out in all the wrong places. On some level, yes, they knew they were seeking God, but they did not yet know God. Their searching was therefore always doomed to fall short of satisfaction, to never achieve lasting deliverance, as they were only "chasing fireflies"-- creatures, flickering with dim and finite glow, something that was not intrinsic to their being and limited to successful chemical reactions; the illumination they offered was as unreliable as it was insufficient. Oh it's light, sure, but it's not Light. Yet it was all they knew. The moon was hidden behind clouds, perhaps, or maybe it was too new... maybe they just never looked up.

In any case, back then, we didn't know God... not well enough, at least. Yes we were religious, and yes we did pray, but even that matched the rhythm of the fireflies: erratic, feeble, almost artificial. It wasn't personal. We recognized light, absolutely, but only as light-- not as a reflection of some greater reality, not truly. I think we idolized those small reflections... every glimmer we could grasp, we pressed so tightly to our heart, that our arms were closed to the Cross.

I jump immediately to that because it's the bottom line. In our suffering, our hope was always for deliverance, but it got stuck in the sparkles? Like, we thought we could collect enough of them to overpower the darkness still suffocating us. That was our conception of God; this was proven in CNC when we flat-out slipped into a sort of pantheism.

But ironically, the more glitter you hoard, the darker the shadows stand behind it. After all, those trinkets you are treasuring-- where are they getting their light from? Batteries? Phosphorescence? Mirrors? In any case, it's not inherent. We failed to recognize that. All the gold in the universe won't save your soul, and no amount of glamour will stop the march of death.

Every firefly will fall to the ground in time. Then what?

Well, then you have to look elsewhere. That's when you notice the moon.

Laurie symbolized the moon quite insightfully; that, too, is not God. But it's much closer to Him, because it DIRECTLY reflects the light of the Sun. Nothing else does that so completely or definitively-- we only perceive it by that reflection. The very identity of the moon-- all its beauty and power-- comes from its relationship to the Sun.

Now we can take that metaphor further, but now isn't the time. I'm sticking to what Laurie said to me, concisely but with enough kick to send me reeling. Everything she does is a gutpunch and I love it.

But that's the moon, too, and THAT was her point.

There is nothing wrong with fireflies or moons or any other lovely thing in God's Creation. But it's HIS. It's not Him.

For us, we stopped chasing fireflies when they disappeared into darkness and in our soul's desperation we turned our eyes heavenwards, and saw a genuine glimpse of God.

...There are only two things in all the world that can be the moon in this respect, and they are arguably identical at heart... religion, and love.

Religion itself can be an idol. Ritualism holds no salvation. What we require is relationship, with God. But we can also just seek relationships without God, which will become our religion if we are not careful. We become lunatics, eventually. The yearning will drive us insane. It's unsustainable. We cannot live on photos of food. We need the Bread of Life.

One day, even the moon will lose its splendor; a cloud will appear, a storm in the night, and its glow will disappear behind terrible turmoil, lit by brazen bolts of cruel new light, shouting out their arrival with awful pride; their light is blinding, not guiding, and it burns everything they touch. False teachers arise; lies swallow up the sky-- religious trauma and sexual abuse turn the moon black and cold... and fear reigns, and we are more lost than ever. We are wrecked. That was 2018, for us.

Well, then what?

Then we wait for dawn.

But we cannot know the dawn exists until we have first endured that awful night... and we cannot welcome the sunrise until we have forsaken all the other lights we have walked by. Even as we still struggle in the dark, we will continue to fear and seek lesser luminaries until we take a leap of faith and hope for what we cannot see but know MUST exist. "There must be something other than this," we plead, and the ache is echoed by all hurting humanity. We've seen enough reflections, enough facsimiles. We know that they do not satisfy. We feel sick and groan with pain, and our only lifeline left is faith. At some point, a switch must flip, touched by a lover or a hymn or a firefly-- and suddenly trust with our very soul that there is hope.

And we wait, in the shadow of the Cross.

But the dawn reveals itself to us. It cannot be forced or imitated. It must solely be hoped for, sought after, focused upon, believed in.
And one day, we will see a promise rising in rose on the horizon, and we will wonder, and we will rejoice, because if we have truly been seeking God then our inmost being will recognize His Face there, at last, at long last, the

That's where this metaphor ends. You can only think and type so much before it gets exhausting, and the wisdom of children prevails... simple, pure, and true.

What I'm trying to say is that my heart-- our heart-- will never be happy until it sees the Son.

But yeah. Hence the internet illness.

The only cure is Christ. Light Incarnate. Hope fulfilled. Tangible joy. He is everything. He is the Sun that never sets, even when it looks like it does in this world of night. But it's only an illusion, thank God, thank God-- because when we no longer live "in the world," well... then we realize that it's always "daytime" in space, so to speak. And we ascend there, to the heavens, when we die to the world with Him, joining Him on the Cross.

No more symbolism, haha. Childlike faith only now. My brain hurts. Let my heart speak instead.

Christ is the only Light & Food I need, and the only Light & Food I want. Everything else is empty. I don't mind. I have Him.