SAINT MELANIA AND ME

THE CELL AND TOMB OF SAINT MELANIA

IN JERUSALEM

(383-439)

The remembrance of Saint Melania is December 31 in the Eastern Orthodox tradition, while in the Western Roman Catholic Church, it is apparently celebrated on the 17th. She is listed among today's saints on the Catholic website to which I typically refer. (I use Catholic.org to get the names, and then branch out to multiple other websites and books for research about the saint.)

The women who eschew the typical life of family and enjoyments, and live as hermits instead, remain a beacon of encouragement for me, since I am also an independent religious woman, living a vowed life on my own, with no support from any establishment. 

Occasionally, I forget that the history of the Christian faith is full of stories of independent monastics who set out on their own to live for God alone. Reading about Saint Melania and others like her buoys my spirits and encourages me to continue.

The topic of renunciation of the allurements of the world in favor of communing with the Lord and serving Him in a solitary state is not something that is typically discussed across the modern dinner table or on social media - though a whisper of it does catch the ear of my heart now and then. During the first few hundred years of Christianity, however, it was quite common for women and men to abandon the secular life for the trials of "the desert."

Living an ascetic life of physical pain and privation for the sake of God alone is an impulse found across the spectrum of religions. Christian, Hindu, and Buddhist traditions all have long histories of men and women who have adopted this life, to one degree or another.

When I became fully disabled about 16 years ago, I was overjoyed to realize that, although it was disconcerting that I was no longer able to support myself through outside employment, I was suddenly free to commit myself to a life lived for the sake of God alone, just as many of the saints did in the early years of the Christian church. I had wanted to do this since leaving the Hindu convent years before, but it had never been possible. Sometimes, bad news is good news in disguise.

Physical pains and limitations prevent me from throwing myself, at full throttle, into anything similar to what one would recognize as an "ascetic" life in the classical sense. I do not need to cause myself pain, discomfort and inconvenience through artificial means, such as fasting, sleeping on the floor of a cave or anything like that because my body itself is constantly, chronically hurting me and preventing many activities I might otherwise like to perform.

But I can and have devoted my daily activities and the occupation of my mind to a continuous recognition that The Lord is present in all things. I practice the presence of God and am in tune with Him constantly.

For inspiration, I look to other women who have left the world of society for a solitary sojourn with God, and there are many from whom to choose.  The desire to sequester oneself in a small place with Our Dear Lord is not unique to me - not at all! It is a natural outpouring of the soul's love for the Divine - a desire to join with Him who is our All.

With the female saints, there is an oft-repeated theme in which a woman of means eschews family life in favor of a solitary or semi-solitary life of removal from society for the sake of God. Typically, these women have been forced to marry at some point in their teen years, and either their husbands die or they and their husband BOTH put on the hermit's robes.

Depending upon the amount of the woman's fortune, she will usually establish at least one monastery for women that will house others that follow her example. Often, they will also endow a monastery for men, sometimes for the purpose of giving their husband something to do, it seems to me!

The saintly life of Melania the Younger followed this general theme. As was common in those days, her parents gave her in marriage at the very early age of 14, and it appears that she tried to avoid it, but could not. Her grandmother was Melannia the Elder, a well known figure in monastic history, being one of the "Desert Mothers" who was also pushed into marriage at age 14. Their lives run along parallel lines.

Melania the Elder (325-410), who lived during the reign of my 47th great grandfather, Theodosius the Great (who was born in Spain, like her) was one of the wealthiest people in the entire Roman empire, but was a follower of Origen who considered the ascetic life of mortification of the body necessary to salvation, and this would obviously have been made known to Melania the Younger and likely fueled her determination for that course in life. Melania the Elder established two religious communities on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem and supported the monks of Nitria before and after their expulsion and exile to Dicaesaraea in Palestine.

The young saint begged her husband to free her from wifely duties but he was, at first, unwilling, telling her that they should have two children before giving up the world and donning hermit robes. Unfortunately, both her children died while still very young, and she and her husband gave themselves to God's work much earlier than the husband had anticipated. In the early death of her children, she was also similar to her grandmother, Melania, who not only lost 2 of her 3 sons before she turned 23 years old, but also her husband, after which, she entrusted her son to the care of others, immediately embarking on the ascetic path of voluntary suffering.

Having been raised in a thoroughly worldly, anti-religious household, with a half-mad narcissist mother and an absent, self-obsessed father who worked in the entertainment industry, I came to this party rather late in life, relatively speaking. I thank God I was led to Him at all, considering my mother's hostility toward faith of any kind, but she had an especial hatred toward Catholics. I had no saintly Grandmother to follow, and no example of any kind, really, when it came to religion and the life of the spirit. My beloved grandmother Emzaella, a lovely woman I adored, used to say that no one needed religion. All one needed was "the golden rule," in her book. As far as I can tell, she lived that philosophy pretty well, but her extremely truncated religious sentiment was of little help to me.

After Melania and her husband vowed to live the rest of their lives in abstinence and chastity, she and her husband, and her mother went to Africa where she purchased the freedom of 8,000 slaves with some of the money she had gotten from the sale of her vast properties. She is honored as being a person of means who used those means to answer the generosity of her heart.

I cannot help but compare this saint to a prominent Melania that is in the news, peripherally, these days. Despite her namesake's extreme generosity of spirit and sanctity, Donald Trump's wife, Melania, so far, has demonstrated no interest in philanthropy. A former model, she is known for wearing a jacket on which the words, "I really don't care. Do u?" were splashed across it when she went to visit migrant children that had been captured at our borders, separated from their parents, and incarcerated in a detention center in McAllen, Texas.  The message emblazoned on her coat was the opposite of what it should have been, when visiting these terrified and suffering little children, some of whom are still in diapers.

Her anemic "be best" campaign has no legs and does little or nothing. She came out weakly against bullying but has said nothing about the bully to whom she is married - the guy who spews hatred constantly on Twitter and into every video camera that follows him. When he mocks a disabled reporter, calls public servants foul names, and targets the weakest among us, Melania is silent about that. "Be best" indeed! In fact, Melania has complained that she considers herself to be the most bullied person in the world - based upon how "The Media" treats her, I suppose. I have no doubt that our modern Melania was named after one of the two Melanias I am discussing in this blog. It is a common name in the Eastern Orthodox world. It is a shame she doesn't exemplify either one.





Before escaping to Africa, Saint Melania the Younger had left Rome in favor of a farm that she owned, where she lived a retired life. She would care for the sick, receive foreigners that came to visit her, and visit the imprisoned and exiled.

Melania's austere fasting practices intimidate me, I must admit. While I struggle to lose the weight the piled on me when I became disabled and my mobility was limited, I think about how Saint Melania's practice initially consisted of eating every other day, then developed into a routine in which she used to fast five days a week and would only eat on Saturdays and Sundays. Not only am I not capable of such an extreme schedule, I do not think I am in favor of it - certainly not for myself. I have other humiliations that stand in stead of her extremes of starvation.

I can think of one thing which we have in common. Apparently, Saint Melania had some artistic skill with calligraphy.

After spending 7 years in Africa, where she freed those 8,000 slaves, she traveled to Alexandria and then to Jerusalem, where she closed herself in a cell (which is pictured at the start of this blog.) She became famous for her holiness and many women came to her, to follow in her life and practices of mortification. At some point, she had 90 virgins and nuns accompanying her, and she provided for all their needs, temporal and spiritual.





In the end, it is recorded that she had a "pain in her side," and I wonder if it was a problem with her appendix? In any case, whatever it was, it was apparently deadly. The Bishop of Eleutheroupolis was called for, and from him she took the Eucharist, then she said goodbye to all her sisters, saying, "As the Lord wishes, so let it be," whereupon she died.

I am reminding myself not to become disheartened by my lack of abilities in so many areas, especially when compared to the saints. Much of what she was able to do was a result of the great wealth she inherited from her father, and this resource is something with which she was gifted. She is a perfect example of what one should do with whatever resources are at one's disposal in life, however. Every one of us can choose generosity and give whatever we are able. Great wealth or small, we may all do our part.

It also occurs to me that each of us, saint or not, is unique and has unique gifts and destinies. The best thing we can do is opt for a holy life, inasmuch as we are able, and to maintain a humble attitude about it. There will always be someone more righteous, more committed, more ascetic, etc. The fact that others are better than I is no reason to give up entirely! The point is to continue on, in the knowledge that we are not good enough, and being obedient to The Lord in spite of our shortcomings.

May Saint Melania inspire you today, on this day that is typically spent in revelry, over-indulgence and even drunkenness! I intend to spend the evening in quiet contemplation...between the outbursts of fireworks and rockets and all that noise, and will pray for a better adherence to my spiritual path, and for you, my brothers and sisters. I will also pray for our country and for the world. There are so very many problems that beset us now.

God bless us all

Silver Rose
Sannyasini Kaliprana


Resource links:

"Saint Melania" page on Catholic.org

"Melania the Younger" page on wikipedia

"Dec 17 – St Melania the Younger (383-439)" on CatholicIreland.net

"Venerable Melania the Younger of Rome" on Orthodox Church in America (OCA) website

"Melania the Younger" on Orthodox Wiki

"Saints and Feasts - Melania the Younger, Nun of Rome" on Greek Orthodox Archdiocese of America website

"St. Francis de Sales Church - Patron Saints of Financial Generosity"

"Melania the Elder" on Wikipedia

SAINT OLYMPIAS AND ME

Saint Olympias

"Olympias the Deaconess"

born between 361 and 368 in Antioch or Constantinople

died July 25, 408 in Nicomedia

Today we celebrate the feast day of another shirttail relation of mine, Saint Olympias (the younger) an early deaconess of the church. If the early saints are not actual relatives of mine, they all seemed to know my relations and interact with them. In this case, Saint Olympias (the younger), daughter of an Antiochian Greek noblewoman, Alexandra and her husband, the wealthy Greek Seleucus. She was named after her paternal Aunt Olympias who was once engaged to Roman Emperor Constans, who was the uncle of the wife of my 48th great-uncle. Did you get that? (My Ancestry family tree automatically figures out relationships, thanks be to God, because I never could!)

Constans

Augustus of the Western Roman Empire

born 323

died February 350

When Olympias was orphaned as a child, her fortune was put into trust. She was raised by prominent people in the Roman world until such time as she may accept a husband. As with all women in possession of great fortunes in that day, she received many proposals of marriage. Typically, the man would then have control over her money, and it is no wonder that these women were extraordinarily picky when it came to accepting any one of them as husband, because the husband would rule over her and spend her money according to his desires. It was an incentive for celibacy and religious life!

She eventually married the prefect Nebridus, who died not long after that. Subsequently, my great grandfather, Emperor Theodosius, put her fortune in trust, once again, until the arbitrary age of 30, probably in retaliation against her. She had rejected his choice of second husband for her. I suppose he thought she must be mad to defy his guidance. What a frustrating time for women!

Theodosius I "The Great"

Emperor of the Roman Empire

born Jan. 11, 347

died Jan. 17, 395

My 47th great-grandfather

When she finally got her full estate in the year 391, she began her spiritual works of mercy in earnest. She was consecrated a deaconess and founded a community of religious women with several other monied ladies. She established a hospital and an orphanage, gave considerable assistance to the monks of Nitria, and was a strong supporter of Saint John Chrysostom after he was expelled in 404 from Constantinople. (He had become her spiritual director in about 398, six years previously.)

Statue of Saint Olympius - 

On the facade of Saint Peter's Basilica

Because of her support of Chrysostom, her community was disbanded and her charitable works were prohibited. As usual, power hungry men, whose method of ruling was basically force and punishment for everyone who came within their orbit, persecuted her for the rest of her days.

She was sick and alone at the end of her life, her friend Chrysostom in exile in another place from which he encouraged and comforted her. She died in Nicomedia July 25, 408, less than a year after the death of Chrysostom.

Saint John Chrystostom

Friend of Saint Olympias

This story sounds so very familiar to me! I have compared notes with other independent religious women and all of us have plans for religious institutions and charitable projects, should money ever fall into our hands. All of us have succumbed to societal and survival pressures for husbands, who STILL, in this day and age, want to spend our money on obscenities like booze, guns, pornography and mistresses. After working an entire lifetime with nothing to show for it, I have something to say about the disparity of income between men and women, the need for equal pay and equal protection under the law and the inherent immorality of men asserting dominion over women in any sphere, including religious.

Brutal, money-hungry despots still prowl the world, using force and deception to gain power over others, especially women, who they publicly malign and despise, but regardless of the power and supposed "prestige" they manage to accrue, history will record their shame.

I am thinking of Donald Trump and his enablers while I write this. I am thinking about his crimes, his immorality, his ethical bankruptcy, his misogyny, his xenophobia and his other prejudices that are the antithesis of the Christian way. I am thinking of how he used so-called "charities" to line his pockets and fund his campaign for power.

I am thinking, especially, of how he ripped babies, toddlers and children from the arms of their parents and stuffed them into small cells behind chain-link fences to sleep on cement floors with little or no medical care and how thousands of them may never see those parents again because he and his minions did not see the necessity to keep track of their whereabouts. I am thinking of the babies that he let die from the flu because they were denied simple flu shots, and the crowded conditions did his dirty work for him. Just like the blankets infected by small pox that were given to the Native Americans in the early days of America.

These type of men have always been with us - whether you call them "Prefect Optatus," "Emperor Theodosius" or "President Trump," they are all the same. Their reigns are short, but human memory is long and tends to regard the saintly with a kindly eye while itt records the names and supposed "accomplishments" of tyrants and oppressors with disdain.

To whom will you attach your wagon?

I, for one, am on the side of the saints. Not Prefect Optatus. Not Emperor Theodosius. Not Donald Trump.

God save us all from the tyrants.

Silver Rose
Sannyasini Kaliprana

SAINT ADELAIDE OF ITALY, MY 30TH GREAT AUNT

Saint Adelaide of Italy

(Sometimes called Adelaide of Bergundy)

931-999

My 30th Great Aunt

Most days of the year have quite a number of saints whose feasts we celebrate in the Catholic and Orthodox churches. Typically, the men are the most famous and get the most attention, while the women remain but a whisper in the background, which is why I like to concentrate on the female members of this august body, and I take great pleasure in the fact that quite a number of them are related to me. It is my hope that something of their holiness and sanctity travels down to me in our shared blood connection - our DNA. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

Saint Adelaide was the sister of King Conrad I "The Peaceful" of Bergundy, who was my 29th Great Grandfather. This family connection was researched primarily through history books and thepeerage.com, a thoroughly researched historical website that documents the families of the peerage of Great Britain and other prominent European families.

Of course, many of the women whose sainted reputations have been conveyed to us over the centuries, were also prominent figures in political history: queens and princesses. In fact, this particular saint is the patron saint of princesses, as well as abuse victims, brides, empresses, exiles, in-law problems, parenthood, parents of large families, prisoners, second marriages, step-parents, and widows.

I like to draw upon the power and dignity of figures such as these - women who sacrificed themselves for the greater good, usually for the sake of their country alliances as well as our God, and whose memory is retained in classical works of nonfiction.

Adelaide was one of those princesses who was offered up to a rival to create a more pleasing relationship with a competing kingdom, the first time at age 15, when she married Lothair II, the ersatz King of Italy, but this union barely had time to produce one child, Emma, before Lothair II died, probably of poisoning. Certain factions then tried to force Adelaide to marry the son of a Lombardy king who hoped to increase his power, but, after a few months of imprisonment, she fled to the protection of Otto I of Germany, instead, thereafter marrying him.

It is interesting to note that, breaking with custom, the Pope crowned her as Holy Roman Empress at the same time that her husband Otto was crowned Holy Roman Emperor. It says something about the esteem with which she was held in the hearts of the people of that day. They respected her, which is saying something, since women were typically nothing more than chattel in that era.

OTTO THE GREAT

Despite being used as a biological chess piece in the world belonging to men, it appears that Saint Adelaide's strong religious temperament had always been a feature of her character. She maintained a long and continuingly close relationship with Cluny, a powerful abbey in France, dedicated to St. Peter, and the center of ecclesiastical reform in that day.

CLUNY ABBEY

Saint Adelaide retired to a nunnery that she founded in 991, called Selz Abbey. She died on this date in the year 999, a handful of days short of the year 1,000 - the year that many hoped and believed would bring the second coming of Christ.  Yet, here we are, well into the 2,000 years, and no sign of Him. We could certainly use him now.

SELZ ABBEY

Even to this day, women who have discharged family responsibilities, outlived husbands (and sometimes children) are left wanting only God and, if they have money and can support themselves and a few other women, will start some sort of monastic institution and live out their days communing with the Lord. It reminds me of my current state in life, except that I live in an apartment because I am poor and can do little to rectify that situation, since I am also disabled.

While the typical trappings of the grand monastic life of a "retired' Holy Roman Empress are beyond my reach, a prayerful heart is not, so, like many of my readers, I continue on here, living the solitary monastic life of the accidental hermit.

As a person who has been subjected to abuse, I call upon the prayers of Saint Adelaide, the patron saint of abuse victims - which means that I ask her to intercede for me, just as I might ask you to pray for me, out of the goodness of your heart. I know that Adelaide was used as a pawn in the hands of the men, for the purpose of cementing political alliances and other considerations of earthly power, yet she maintained her devotion to the Heavenly powers above all else and, for this reason, she is inspiring to me.

Just this Saturday, I had occasion to call upon the sobriety and poise of a saint. I had to go to the grocery store.

Shopping is a generally traumatic event for me, mostly because of my physical disabilities and the pain and inconvenience they cause when I try to attend to my survival needs.

First of all, when I arrived at the Smiths Grocery on Constitution and Carlisle, I discovered that, although they had 3 or 4 battery-operated carts, one of them was completely dead and immovable and was blocking all the others. This is fairly typical of most stores that keep these handicap vehicles available for customers. You can tell by the manner of upkeep just how little they really care about the handicapped patrons and how little thought they put into our needs.





Since I was only purchasing 3 small items, I took the chance that I could stand in line with my cane and still make it back to my car. I was disappointed to see that, in that entire store, there were only two lanes that were open and had a human being at the helm. I am unable to deal with the computerized self-service checkouts and I also object to replacing human beings with machines, so I never get into those lines. Instead, I hobbled up to the closest line, which was clogged with people whose carts were overflowing.

There I was, leaning on my cane, carrying two bags of fresh cranberries and a tiny little smoked ham that fit in the palm of one hand. I smiled and commented to the man in front of me, "you'd think that on a Saturday they would open a few more lanes."

The man, who was about my age, turned to me with an unpleasant expression and informed me that, if I did't like it, I was free to stand in line at the self-serve. Perhaps he thought I was trying to get him to let me get in line ahead of him, when I was actually trying to make my waiting time in line as agreeable as possible and distract myself from the awful pain that was creeping up my legs.

Then again, I have turned into my grandmother, in some respects. When I was in my 20's, it used to embarrass me no end when she would turn to some stranger and strike up a conversation, but now I do it all the time myself. Everyone I run into in this world is my neighbor, either my neighbor in my apartment complex, my street, my grocery store or my town. They're my neighbors, and I am enjoined to love them, no matter how rude or inconsiderate they behave.

Typically, I will draw a slow, warm smile and continue chatting as if I do not understand or receive my neighbor's lack of charity, and that is exactly what I did this day. I didn't push myself on this man, however, since he was surly and I didn't want to aggravate him, but I DID call upon my sainted ancestor ladies for guidance and help getting through the line, with as much gravitas as I could muster. If I was a saint, what would I do? How would I behave? I ask myself questions like these during difficult times. I don't pretend to be successful in my efforts to emulate my sainted ancestors, but I do try.

I stood there, leaning on my cane, gamely smiling, for a good 20 minutes, while this man loaded a cartful of cans and boxes onto the counter. Not a vegetable in sight. It occurred to me that perhaps he was constipated, with a diet like that, and he was in a bad mood because he hadn't gone to the bathroom in 3 days. Then he handed the clerk a fistful of coupons. All of this could have been done with the computerized self-checkout that he recommended to me, so I also wonder why he did not avail himself of it. It's not like he had to weigh any vegetables!

It took a long time to get from the store to my parking spot. As I've explained before, there is not enough handicap parking at this location.

The pain was so great as a result of the physical challenge of standing in the grocery store, that I was unable to do anything but sit in my recliner the rest of the day. I could not cook a meal or clean my house, take a shower or  do anything on my feet. In fact, it was one of those days when I was unable to even change out of my clothing, and I ended up sleeping in the dress I wore to the store that day. I fell asleep in my recliner, exhausted, and woke early in the morning on Sunday.

Donald Trump mocks this disabled reporter

What is really needed is a low-slung van of some sort - a van that can be tricked out with a ramp onto which I could drive my electric scooter, so that I am not at the mercy of shop keepers and store owners. I cannot rely upon those people to meet my needs. I have begged for several  years now for funds to purchase a van and pay for it to be equipped for my electric scooter, but disabled old ladies without an exciting sob story get very little traction in the world of philanthropy. There are also a LOT of old disabled ladies living in little city apartments. America is not doing a good job of taking care of their elderly, and Americans do not care much about the poor, the disabled, the senior Americans, unless there is a great story attached. I am ordinary and therefor boring.






There is also the tendency of comfortable people to impugn the character of the poor. Whenever I talk about the poor, the first thing said is usually something about drugs, ignoring the fact that MOST poor people do not take illicit drugs and MOST poor people are NOT able bodied people who "refuse to work."

Then there is the Trump factor. I disapprove of Trump's lies, misogyny, and xenophobia, his prejudice against the disabled and other minorities; his criminal; unethical self-dealing; and his vulgarity. On top of all this, he is a terrible bully - mocking disabled people and others who are weaker and have less power than himself. He punches down, and I don't like it.

I have spoken frankly about this, at which point "Catholics" in real life, on Facebook and here at my little blog, have shunned me because of it. Even a donor in IRELAND took umbrage at my disapproval of Trump and withdrew her occasional assistance with increasingly passive aggressive, then angry emails. It is the first time in my life that people have snubbed me for a political purpose. I do not pretend to know the hearts or minds of people trapped in the Trump cult and won't venture a guess about motive or incentive, but it does seem rather small and peevish to me. Our American democracy celebrates our freedom of speech, among other things, and to retaliate against a handicapped woman for expressing a different political perspective is the antithesis of our democratic philosophy, and certainly does not comport with general Christian values.

Anyway, I digress. For whatever reason, my disapproval of Trump or my boring story, the point is that my efforts at begging have not been terribly fruitful and, although I am leaving the "donate" button on this blog, I have stopped flogging my GOFUNDME CAMPAIGN . It doesn't seem worth the humiliation.

For all these reasons, it is even more important for me to become better acquainted with the saints, many of whose lives were more painful, more stressful and more poverty stricken than mine (except for the empresses and princesses. THEY probably do not run out of food at the end of every month! Their sacrifices and trials were of a different nature.)  The saints typically offer up the difficulties - and many of them did, indeed, die much sooner than they would have if they'd had their survival needs met, but there is no indication that they did much, if anything, to take care of their health or longevity. I am usually pro-active about my health, but perhaps that is the wrong way to go.

My 30th great aunt, Saint Adelaide of Italy, whose feast day we celebrate today, may not have suffered privations, per se, but she was used as a pawn in a political chess match in which her body was traded for political power. I wonder if she really gave consent to either of her marriages. Her consent did not appear to be necessary at the time. Regardless, I look to her as an example of how to survive in this brutal world with a little grace and dignity, AND, especially, without losing faith! That is the most important aspect.

God bless us all.

Silver "Rose"

SHOWERED WITH SMALL MIRACLES

SAINT LUCY

Martyr

Patron Saint of the Eyes

THAT FUNNY FEELING

I haven't wanted to mention something, because i didn't want to presume upon the grace of God, nor to "jinx" it, but for the last couple weeks I have experienced two unusual streams of awareness. The first was the distinct impression that I was being lifted on the wings of the prayers of my friends and the saints upon whom they were calling for intercession. My macular degeneration sprang a leak some weeks ago, and we have been storming heaven for a cure.

The second was the impression - a very strong impression - that my eyesight had improved since the injection that I was administered in my left eye a few weeks ago. (Thank you, Saint Lucy!) I was unsure, at first, since my vision in that eye was really bad for the first few days after the injection...but then it seemed to become better than before the shot and I began to entertain the possibility that perhaps the shot had jarred my body into getting rid of that blood leak in my eye.

MY EYE SPECIALIST IS ALSO A VETERINARIAN....APPARENTLY!

Today when I went to the eye doctor's office, ostensibly to have another shot in my left eye, the technician took photographs of the interior of my eye and we discovered that, aside from the primary damage (which is permanent, I am told), the secondary damage from the blood leakage into the eye had simply disappeared. There was no trace of the pool of blood that had shown up in the previous test.

I wasn't surprised. I had this feeling. I just KNEW.

One reason I was not surprised is because I know my body and I know how sensitive it is - especially to drugs and chemicals of any kind. This plays two ways. First, this sensitivity sometimes causes allergic reactions, anaphylaxis and asthma attacks, especially if the dose is large. On the other side of that coin is that my body will often respond very well to a very small dose of medication, because it takes less to get an organic response from my system.

The primary cause of my lack of surprise is rooted in my connection with the Lord. I KNOW He is with me at times, and this week is one of those times.

But not only do I host the Lord in my heart, but I feel a deep connection with many of the saints who observe all from heaven, particularly Saint Lucy, to whom I have directed many pleas for her intercession.

SAINT LUCY

Saint Lucy, originally known as Saint Lucia of Syracuse, is the patron saint of the blind. The oldest record of her is in the Acts of the Martyrs from the fifth century, but most accounts agree that a rejected admirer reported her for being a Christian and she was martyred in Sicily in 304 a.d., when Diocletian was rabidly persecuting Christians. It is in the medieval stories that we first learn that her eyes were gouged out before being murdered.

I have been asking for her intercession regularly during the last few months when I have been struggling with my vision and other issues, as have many of my friends. Some day I hope to write a blog post specifically and only about her.

Coincidentally, her feast day is fast approaching on December 13th.

I had asked my Facebook community to pray for me and also my friends "in real life" for a cure and to buck up my bravery factor. Injections into my eyeball is a tough one for me. Needles have always been a challenge.

THE EYE DOCTOR REFUSED TO ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS OR SPEAK TO ME:

I told the technician that I wanted to speak to the eye doctor before I got another shot in my eye. My idea was to regularly go to the office for checkups and, if this blood leakage happens again, to then begin a series of shots at that time. It hardly seemed necessary now. There wasn't a trace of the previous problem!

The doctor refused to see me, UNLESS I would agree to mutely sit there while he would just sweep in and give me a shot and then sweep out of the room.

HE REFUSED TO SEE ME. HE REFUSED TO TALK TO ME.

The technician says that monthly shots are what he does. He does it for everyone and he won't do anything in any other way for me....and he won't discuss it with me. When i asked the technician why I would have to have more shots if the eye is no longer bleeding, he said something something something something about "just in case" it starts again!

The message I received, loud and clear was this: STOP TALKING, STOP ASKING INCONVENIENT QUESTIONS AND TAKE THE SHOT OR GET OUT OF THE OFFICE!

I chose to leave, but did make a future appointment which I am not sure I will keep.

UNIVERSITY OF NEW MEXICO HOSPITAL OFTEN TREATS PATIENTS LIKE CATTLE

Being treated like a cow being forced through a metal chute with a string of other cows,, in a living assembly line of sorts, is not how I envision the conditions of my personal medical care, and I am going to have to decide what to do about this state of affairs. I am getting awfully tired of fighting with the University of New Mexico to be treated like a human being instead of a test subject or an excuse upon which someone creates their medical career.

GRATITUDE TO GOD

Putting aside the dilemma with this doctor who refuses to address my personal needs in favor of his assembly line approach, my heart is full of love and gratitude to the Lord for cutting me some slack - even if only for a little while - and letting me retain my vision for a bit longer, without having the screaming emergency of having to have injections in my eyeball. Who knows what the future will bring? I could well be back there in short order, submitting to those horrifying shots, if the bleeding in the eye resumes. In the meantime, however, I am given at least a small reprieve.

I want to thank all of you who have prayed for me in this difficult situation. I DID feel your prayers, and I love you for them! Thanks so much.

CHRISTMAS FAST APPROACHES AND THE CUPBOARDS ARE MOSTLY BARE

On another topic - this month is Christmas, and I would dearly love to treat the other disabled, elderly and poor residents in this apartment complex, at the very least to provide some snacks and drinks. Many of them do not have any Christmas "programs" at all. They spend most of their lives alone and they are left out of family events, either through geography or estrangement.

Food is always a headache, especially for those of us who are intent on eating healthy foods in order to combat serious health worriments. I have lost 90 of the 100 pounds I gained when I stopped smoking tobacco, and I intend to keep it off, but it would be lovely to be able to celebrate the Christmas season with some special FOOD, especially to offer to my neighbors and others who are alone during this glorious season.

In that line, I offer you the following link to my Amazon Christmas food list. I would be most grateful for anything you may be able to contribute. On the other hand, if you would like to contribute FRESH food items, you could donate for that purpose on the paypal link, above-right, just below my photograph.

Here is the link to the Christmas food wish list on Amazon. They have my address and will ship to me direct:

CLICK HERE FOR THE AMAZON CHRISTMAS WISH LIST FOR FOOD

Thank you again, most of all, for your prayers.

God bless us all, and have a very merry Christmas!

WALKING MEDITATION

I am feeling very grateful today for the many habits and techniques of seeking God consciousness that I learned from the Eastern traditions of Buddhism and Hinduism.

With apologies to the respected spiritual teachers of those many traditions, it is my experience that walking meditation is one of those things that can easily be adopted and adapted to the needs of spiritual seekers of all faiths.

There is only one ultimate creator God or original cause of the universe. However you envision Him/Her/It or even if, for you, there is nothing but emptiness, whatever your tradition or practice at the moment, walking meditation, and other types of meditation combined with movement, is something we can all do with great benefit.

Sufi Dancers

Famously, the Sufis have their highly ritualistic ecstatic dances, and Brother Lawrence used to say that he was as much with God, while washing his pots and pans, as he would be while singing in the choir stall, which was considered a high status activity.

Brother Lawrence

among his pots and pans, in the kitchen

Granted, the higher reaches of ecstatic union with God, such as what the saints, sages and mystics have experienced and described, would probably be a challenge, in concert with walking or other activity, but it is probably fair to say that, for most of us, these high ecstatic states are not a daily occurrence, nor a constant one, when they do arise.

Saint Theresa of Avilla,

in ecstatic union with Christ

- statue closeup -

Lately, I am particularly recommending "walking meditation" to all my disabled and elderly friends, partly because it takes us much longer to accomplish our daily tasks than it did when we were younger and/or more fit and healthy, thus challenging us to find the lengthy periods of uninterrupted meditation while sitting in our schedule.

For myself, as a quasi-hermit on a very limited budget, operating a body that has started to deteriorate, I find that, when I previously waited for a break in my daily tasks in order to meditate in a formal way, there were some days when very little was possible. Doctor appointments, cooking, cleaning, dog walking, ate up my time, while the silence I would prefer was also eaten by other beings in their quest to accomplish their life goals.

"Busy Street Scene"

by Phill Burrows

Living in an apartment community with more than 100 other beings, on a main thoroughfare through town, is not particularly conducive to quiet meditation! I long ago gave up trying to create an oasis in my apartment. Instead, I am working within the noise and the chaos.

I realized, at some point in my journey through pain and disability, that the purpose for spiritual "practices" was, at least in part, to train the mind and body to always be aware of its at-one-ment with the Lord. Formal sitting meditation practice is just that - practice! It isn't the goal. It is A practice for the real thing - continuous God consciousness: the state of awareness of continual connection and identification with Deity (or "original cause" or whatever your tradition / understanding / language provides.)

Jesus meditating in the forest

Those who are unfamiliar with walking meditation are encouraged to do some reading about it, look for local sources of information, watch some videos, hear some talks, and then seek out a venue for the practice of this valuable technique. If you were here with me, I could train you, and I suppose I could write more detail about it in this blog, but why reinvent the wheel? Others have already done this far better than I could.

I will tell you that sometimes I use what is called a "mantra." My favorite is the "Jesus Prayer" sometimes called "centering prayer" I believe:

"Lord, Jesus Christ, son of God,

have mercy upon me, a poor sinner."

You could even just say "Lord" or "Jesus" or something similar. In the Hindu faith, there are a lot of considerations about this mantra, as in the Buddhist zen tradition, that it should be transmitted to the student by an ascended master or guru, but we do not have this tradition, per se, in Catholicism. In any case, let's not let perfection become the enemy of the good by drawing too many demands around this practice, as much could be lost if one felt that contemplation or meditation was essentially impossible without the presence of some elevated teacher-saint to "give" you a magic pill that would open your heart, etc. Once you start along this path, a teacher does sometimes appear, but don't worry about that right now. Just get started.

The addition of a mantra, recited interiorly, is typically what I do when I am having trouble focusing. Usually, I just put my consciousness at the feet of the Lord and hang onto that while I perform whatever household function or life task I have to perform at the moment. If you are new to meditation, you'll want to start with mantra. Eventually, this drops away of its own accord.

Granted, there are times when your full attention is required and you just can't hold God's hand while you do it: important conversations that carry crucial information, that sort of thing, but if you expand your concept of meditation to include a lot of your daily tasks, you will be surprised at how much peace and blessedness this will introduce to your life.

Anyway, I am finding the walking meditation very helpful these days. Also the dish washing meditation, dog walking meditation, grocery shopping meditation and painting meditation. You get the drift.

Old Woman Meditating on the Scriptures

by Gabriel Metsu

If this sort of meditation is a new thing for you, please feel free to write me and tell me about it. I may be able to answer some questions, but I recommend you get a local teacher, if a teacher is what you are looking for.

Primarily, I am writing this to encourage you to give walking meditation a try. I know that I personally experienced some frustration when I found that my life circumstances continually prevented me from enjoying a quiet, meditative life, and I got a lot of benefit from falling back on my training in walking meditation. I had to learn to embrace the reality of my situation and adapt. After many years of formal meditation practice, I found the transition seamless. You can also!

God bless us all.

Silver

SHOCKING NEWS - UPDATED

Saint Lucy

Patron Saint of the blind

I had imagined that the increased blurriness of my vision and my inability to read street signs lately was just a part of my "ordinary" bad eyesight, which has been worse than 20/500 since I was a child. (They don't or can't measure beyond that point) but I was shocked to learn, recently, that my macular degeneration has progressed from "dry" to "wet" in my left eye, which means that blood is seeping into that eye and destroying my vision, starting with a black area in the center. Eventually, barring a miracle, I will be functionally blind.

I am still able to drive, but I am unsure how long that will continue, because I have already started having trouble seeing the writing on the street signs.

UPDATE:

When I first wrote this post, I had anticipated undergoing a series of shots in my eye and, since writing it, DID get one of these shots in a very traumatic procedure at my doctor's office.

Communication with the employees at the eye clinic at the local university hospital has been a nightmare. They're very nice when you show up for your appointment, but God save you if you try to telephone them.

The afternoon that I learned of these shots, I called and asked that patient materials about the drug be mailed to me. They should have given it to me during the appointment, but failed to do that. The clerk mailed it to me without my apartment number on the envelope AND NO POSTAGE! I didn't receive it until more than a week later, on the Monday afternoon before the Wednesday morning appointment!

I almost cancelled the appointment because I didn't have enough time to thoroughly read the patient materials, and I couldn't get anyone to return my telephone call. In fact, one of the clerks hung up on me Tuesday afternoon during my 3rd attempt to get someone to talk to me. As of today's date, no one has even opened the messages that I sent them through the patient portal 8 days ago.

The injection in my eye was very painful and remained so for more than 24 hours. I wish now that I had not followed through with that procedure because, according to the patient materials I was finally able to study, there is something in this medication that can cause stroke or heart attack. It is not just a matter of some patients having experienced a stroke or heart attack coincidentally during the study period (which is what the doctors' assistant had told me the morning of the appointment!)

In addition, only 3,000 patients were part of the study and this medication is still very new.

I have numerous syndromes and allergies, most of which are odd and atypical. If anyone were to react badly to a medication, it would likely be ME. This fact, combined with the disorganized office procedures and difficulty getting questions answered, I have decided not to have any more of these shots at this time.

Instead, I am going to focus on things I can do to improve my situation. Mostly, it involves the special diet and supplements that the doctor prescribed to slow the process of the disease. It is the same diet prescribed by the doctors who are monitoring my arthritic conditions.

I could use some help with:

• The organic anti-inflammatory diet, vitamins and supplements prescribed by my doctors;
• Supplies for my writing and art, to assist me in resurrecting those careers, in order to attempt to fund my increasing needs, over time; and,
• Organizational items for the household, so that I can function independently now and in future, as my vision disappears.

If you would like to donate toward the supplies that I mentioned, above, please click on the DONATE button, above and to the right, and follow the prompts.

If you want to help but do not feel comfortable donating money, I would be very happy if you would take a look at my DONATIONS WISH LIST on Amazon. In fact, I would prefer it! It is one thing to tell you how I intend to spend the money, but it is more clear cut when you see for yourself that this is, indeed, where your money is going. 

AMAZON WISH LIST FOR DONATIONS

If you are not able to contribute, I would be MOST grateful if you would share this blog post on Facebook and twitter.

COPY AND SHARE THIS LINK

MOST OF ALL, I ask that you pray for me, as I pray for you.

[UPDATE: OCTOBER  5, 2020 - I have lost most of the vision in my left eye. It is like trying to look through a puddle of water.]

God bless us all.

Sister Silver "Rose"

(Sannyasini Kaliprana)

Silver Cottage Ashram Hermitage

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Copyright © 2019

All rights reserved

"NOTHING PERSONAL," YOU SAY?

Mother Mary

in my little garden

When disagreements arise in modern life, I have noticed that some people are unable or refuse to put themselves into the place of the other guy, in their imagination. Because they cannot empathize, they cannot imagine why that person on the other side of the debate has an opinion so different from their own.

When engaging in a formal debate, definition of terms often forms a preliminary phase of the debate process so that everyone involved is "on the same page" and talking about the same thing, but modern Americans, set loose on the internet, are not taking advantage of this tool.

Refusing to attempt to understand the actual position of the other side, in a sympathetic light, and making assertions about what your opponents think, believe or want, has become common and is not productive of anything good. It just perpetuates the prejudices and discord.

"Nothing is sweeter than

to think well of others."

Saint Therese of Lisieux

It won't be news to you if I tell you that there is a lot of turmoil in our country right now. I believe that at least part of the cause of this is this disorganized approach to communication among us.

Most of my readers will remember that I am a Catholic convert with a Hindu (Vedantic) orientation. I was raised without any religion whatsoever and participated in many different faiths before converting to Catholicism about 14 years ago. While I believe in everything the Catholic Church believes and teaches, I have a tremendous amount of experience as a non-Christian American. I can easily speak to the point of view of non-Christians, as a result.

When having discussions with some of my Catholic brothers and sisters, I will often object to their characterizations of poor people, gay people, brown people, immigrants, disabled people, and other vulnerable groups. The reply I often get is, "oh, I am not talking about you." As a single, female, senior, divorced, disabled poor person, I fit into many categories of the most vulnerable groups and, having been raised in a non-Christian environment, I am intimately familiar with the lifestyle and beliefs of unchurched people.

But those good Catholic people ARE "talking about" me! They have erroneous, conspiracy-level beliefs about poor people, for instance. There is a huge amount of prejudice about the poor! Right wing people who identify as Christian will often immediately talk about drug addiction and criminality when discussing "the poor."

It isn't that I don't find drug addiction and criminality disturbing, because I DO. Since becoming disabled and poor, and after moving into low-income housing, I have been on the receiving end of quite a bit of the criminality of a segment of the poor. Several of my poor neighbors have stolen from me. The homeless who have encampments in the bosque next to the apartment complex have stolen things out of my garden and my patio, and have rifled through the drawers of the potting cabinet on the patio - looking for whatever might be useful, I suppose. My car has been broken into several times, with no more apparent motive than to scrabble around for change or valuables, leaving me with a broken side window and a creeping sensation of wonder that, although the car was parked right next to my apartment windows, I never heard a thing.

I've had neighbors aggressively try to "befriend" me just so they can get into my apartment and scope it out for possessions they might like to have. One woman spent months telling me I should just "give away" the bed I wasn't using instead of selling it, and then called me one morning and announced that her daughter-in-law had "cried with joy" at the news that SHE would be receiving this bed because she really needed one. I had not agreed to any such thing and was even FURTHER astonished when the neighbor told me she had arranged for a rental truck to come and get it and that it would be at my apartment within two hours! It dawned on me that the neighbor who had pursued my friendship had been "working me" for months, with the express purpose of divesting me of whatever possessions she liked, so I gave her the bed. I rightly guessed she would stop bugging me after she got what she wanted, and I was right. The woman came and took the bed and never spoke to me again.

Anyone who imagines I don't know what I'm talking about when discussing the criminality of the poor needs to take a step back and try another tack. The thing is, despite feeling really bad when someone steals from me or tries to manipulate me for profit, as in the case of the neighbor and the bed, I know that the thievery of the poor is just more obvious and personal than the thievery of the other classes. 

There is a percentage of people in all walks of life who will steal. I have an entirely middle-class sibling who, through a complex con that she worked on me over several months, managed to legally bar me from successfully fighting the theft of inheritance by my father's third wife - just so the sibling could take whatever scraps were available.

The wealthy classes steal from the poor and the middle class in a less direct and less personal way. I would make the case that theirs is the most reprehensible type of thievery because it relies upon the inability of the lower classes to protect themselves. I 

The thievery of poor people is more honorable, in one sense, because it is blatant and out in the open and in-your-face. I know what my neighbor stole from me when I hired her to clean my house. Likewise a second neighbor, the daughter of people I believed were my friends - she ALSO stole from me. I was able to speak to her directly about it.

But what can I do about the thievery of the rich who give one another tax breaks and talk about "trickle down economics" that no one believes is true because nothing has ever trickled down from these accomplished con artists? Millionaires and billionaires buy more luxury goods and properties for themselves while the rest of the people scrabble around for bread.

The fact is that there are no higher a percentage of criminals in the poor populations than there are in society in general. In fact, it may be quite a bit lower, because most poor people are poor because they're disabled or elderly. There is no more drug addiction among the poor than in society as a whole. It's just that people who are successful criminals have enough money to shield themselves from punishment. Drug addicts who are rich, famous, or have solid families have enough resources to support expensive rehab programs.

How many alcoholics do you think exist among the middle class and wealthy? Quite a lot. They can afford the booze. They can also afford to make it 'look' better. I have a relative who is an alcoholic. On the outside, it looks like she's a nice middle-class lady. She's got the trappings of respectability. But she is a terrible drunk. The packaging is just more attractive. She can afford to drink herself into oblivion inside an attractive home. She can also lie, cheat and steal under cover of apparent "respectability." You won't find HER in the gutter, slurring her words and vomiting her stomach contents onto the road. She does it behind closed doors.

This is why, when discussing the middle class or the wealthy, alcoholism is not the first thing that unkind people will talk about. It's the first thing mentioned when the topic of poor people arises, though. Why isn't it the first thing one hears when discussing the other socio-economic groups that have this problem? Americans are prejudiced against the poor in the same way the British in Dickens-era England were. Nothing has changed.

People want to justify their prejudice against the poor.

I am far from a perfect person, but I am not a drug addict. I don't drink. I'm not a criminal. Heck, I haven't had so much as a parking ticket in 44 years! I do not live on welfare. I have Social Security into which I paid for more than 30 years of constant work. I have no tattoos. I have lived as a celibate religious for almost two decades. I am nothing special because, aside from my formal religious vows of sannyas, I am very typical for a woman of my age. MOST poor people are like me. They've done the best they could with their lives, and they are struggling to make a go of it on very little income in their old age. 99.9% of us are NOT homeless people begging with big signs on the street corners, and shooting up drugs at night. They're the exception, not the rule. But even if ALL poor people were drug-addled, alcohol soaked n'er do wells, I ask you to remember that Jesus did not put any requirements upon poor people before they were entitled to the compassion of Christians.

"The poor man has one plea, his want and his standing

in need: do not require anything else from him; but even

if he is the most wicked of all men and is at a loss for

his necessary sustenance, let us free him from hunger."

St. John Chrysostom

Most of us have no help whatsoever. We receive "too much" income from Social Security, thanks to our work histories, but certainly not enough to pay for our needs. Some of us get help from our families, but an awful lot of us are not getting crucial needs met and are dying much sooner than necessary, as a result.

While it is common for most bloggers to avoid talking about themselves, I am taking the opposite stance, partly because my previous confessor taught me that my personal experiences can be used to advocate for others in my position.

"He who is gracious to a poor man lends to the Lord,

and He will repay him for his good deed."

Proverbs 19:17

In my own way, I am fighting the prejudices and bigotry that are so endemic in the cruel America of today. I hope to be able to help that segment of American Christians who are mentioned, above, to be able to identify, even a little bit, with those who are less fortunate than they are, and with those who disagree with them politically.

Put yourselves in my shoes, my American brothers and sisters, then survey our land through my eyes and my experience. If you can do that, you may disabuse yourselves of some of your prejudices.

God bless us all.

Silver "Rose"
Sannyasini Kaliprana