MY COUSIN, SAINT NEOT OF CORNWALL, THE HERMIT - July 31, 2022

 

Stained glass window of Saint Neot

and the deer that volunteered to

plough the fields for him.

Today's saint is a cousin of mine, part of the Wessex folks from whom I descend. He died on July 21, 877 in Cornwall, which is where my great grandfather was born, as it happens. We do not know his date of birth.

He was related to my 33rd great grandfather, Saint Alfred the Great (who visited him many times and sought his counsel), in which case, he is more than a shirt tail relation to me, but some kind of first cousin, probably 38 times removed. Something like that.

Some people express disdain when they hear the degree of relation, but they are ignorant of history. Saints of the United Kingdom and Western Europe who were part of the nobility have extensive written records to corroborate their family lines and, once you establish your relationship with one of them, you can be sure you are descended from or otherwise related to many others, as all the nobles were related to one another in some fashion.  At least, it seems that way to me!

We know that Neot's father's name was Ethelwulph, which was a fairly common name of the day, but other than those two facts about his family origin, history records little else about his ancestry. We know a fair bit about his reputation, movements, supposed miracles, and the disposition of his relics, and if you are interested in this little saint, then a simple Google search can tell you a lot.

I found Neot to be quite interesting. First, as a matter of simple curiosity, I was interested to learn that he was only 4 feet tall. We know that modern man is a bit taller than in previous centuries, but even in those days, 4 feet tall would be exceedingly short. It makes me wonder if he was one of the little people, as they're sometimes called. I find it charming and lends even more mystique to his mythic story. I find it a particularly good sign that someone a bit different was accepted into the vowed life of that era, which we sometimes think of as being a backward and more prejudiced and superstitious one.

Neot's name was originally something else but somehow was given this moniker that originated in the word "neophyte." It represents a sort of nickname, and you can read more about that online. 

The ruins of Glastonbury Abbey

where Saint Neot began his

monastic life

Read more about the history of Glastonbury Abbey on Wikipedia

Saint Neot was known for having both a remarkable intellect, a love for study, and an intense devotional nature, and he began to attract some attention at Glastonbury Abbey, where he was a monk and was ordained as priest at one point.

People will sometimes gather around a spiritual personality like this. But Neot wasn't interested in fame or flattery. In order to save his spiritual life, he removed himself to a hermitage in Cornwall (the remains of which have been obliterated, and we have no idea where it was.) He lived there for 7 years.

There are a lot of stories passed down through the ages about the miracles of St. Neot. In one of them, Neot is responsible for some fish coming back to life. He was mostly a vegetarian but God had given him permission to eat one fish a day. His attendant in the monastery made the mistake of bringing two one day. Neot, like most spiritual people, take their instructions from God in a rather serious fashion, and concerned about that, he had his attendant return the fish from where they'd been caught - and they both came back to life. This is how he became the Patron saint of FISH!

I used to love to fish, and I like to paint them. I also enjoy stories about fish, so I am interested in learning more about St. Neot and this reputation as a fish whisperer.

The above painting is a watercolor I did of the New Mexico Brown Trout. I used to love fishing, but I am not physical able to do it any more.

It is common for some saints, especially the hermits, to be attributed with some special harmony with the wild animals they find in nature - and it makes sense to me because animals, especially prey animals, have to be very sensitive to the vibrations of other living being around them, in order to protect themselves. Animals can often tell when a person means them no harm and when it is safe to be around them. 

One of Neot's miracles has to do with the wild deer offering themselves as draft animals to pull the plough on the monastery grounds. They would, supposedly, arrive for work in the morning, offer their necks to be hitched up, plough the ground all day, and then go home at night. It's a darling story, and one of the stained glass windows at a St. Neot's church location celebrates it:

Stories get built up over the centuries until they are a bit fantastic, but it probably started with something very simple - perhaps a special relationship with the deer of a local herd. You can well imagine the seed of this purported miracle. You could see how this man's friendship with the local deer could be considered a sign of his great spirituality.

Today I relate to a part of the story about my sainted cousin because he became peeved at the number of spiritual tourists that started to come and bother him.  My apartment location has gotten more and more busy. There are all sorts of people walking back and forth, inches from my window

None of this is conducive to the life of a spiritual person trying to lead a quiet life of prayer, on top of constant traffic outside my window, and people staring into my apartment with their noses inches from the glass.

I have been yearning to move to a different location for the longest time. Having an urban hermitage CAN work out, if you have the right setup, but this place is far too big and there are too many people living here and impinging on my privacy.

Statue of St. Neot

Please pray for me, that I may somehow move to a more conducive monastery space that will allow for a more concentrated prayer life, as well as some room for the art projects that proliferate and with which I hope to better support the place, as well as others who may come after me. But most important, of course, is that our spiritual lives remain fresh and lively and that we are happy within ourselves and with The Lord.

May we all be blessed!

Silver Rose

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me, and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them.  It is illegal to copy any of it to any other place for any purpose without my express written consent.

Please understand that it is not allowed to copy this elsewhere, credit me with the writing, and then think you have done what is right. Contact me for permission.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM

 

Christ the Yogi

This week I have had to change the name of my blog, because an acquaintance started using the name "The Accidental Hermit" in her advertisements that then obliterated all the search results for my blog when anyone Googled it. Even when the name of my blog was typed exactly, "Diary of an Accidental Hermit," pages and page of ads for her podcast popped up, and my blog of ten years, with more than 350 posts, was nowhere to be found. It was as if someone took a match to thousands of hours of work and made an internet bonfire with them.

My next concern, of course, is that the two of us would be confused for one another because we are doing a very similar thing.  Though I've been occupied with it for two decades, and she is a newby, that is not enough of a distinction for the purposes of Mr. Google. We are "urban hermits" living in apartments in smallish towns in the Southwest, advocating for the contemplative life.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

In the process of renaming my blog and refining it so that I can differentiate myself from that person who started using the moniker I have had for more than a decade, I realized that there is a huge elephant in the room that I have to clean up, and I am happy to have found the silver lining in all this mess, because we all know that there usually IS a silver lining to any conflict because that is what God typically does. He can and does bring good out of bad.

I have realized that some readers may not understand my religious affiliation(s). Is she Catholic? Is she Hindu? Who IS this woman, anyway?

The short answer is that I am Catholic.  I was a Hindu renunciate when I converted, but it is a complication story that has a lot of "moving parts" and will take some time to tell adequately, so I will just give a partial answer here and then provide the whole story in a book I am writing and will make available at some time in the future.

I was raised without any religion whatsoever. My parents hated religion, especially Catholicism, but I was always interested in God and immediately began learning about various religious traditions when I left home at 16. I spent some time with the Scientologists. I dabbled with Nicheren Shoshu Buddhism. I became interested in meditation and searched for something in the "yellow pages" phone book in Sacramento, California, where I found an advertisement for the Vedanta Society, which began years of close involvement, mostly in Los Angeles, where I moved after a year with the Vedantists in Northern California.

What I loved about the Vedantists, in addition to the peaceful presentations in their temple, the discussions about spiritual life and practices, especially meditation, is the respect that Vedanta has for all religions. They say that "all religions lead to God" and that one can remain a Christian or Buddhist or whatever other faith and a Vedantist at the same time! Of course, at that time, I had no other religion, so I threw myself totally into Vedanta, especially the meditation.

I asked the swami about the Vedantists' claim that all paths lead to God and asked if he really believed it.  He said, "Yes, but our way is faster!" Very clever.

Oddly enough, though I knew very little about Christianity and I had never even attended a Christian church service, when I presented myself to the swami for initiation in the formal ceremony in which they do this, he gave me the Jesus mantra. We had not discussed it, and it was a shock to me, because I thought he would give me a different one.

Swami Swahananda in the back

I am in the front, at the left.

Within a short time, I expressed interest in joining the convent, which I did do in my early thirties. But there was always something that did not quite fit. I loved the life, but something was not working within me. It did not help that the nuns were exceedingly uninterested. They were afraid that because I was the Swami's friend, I would try to "take over." It was ridiculous, but that was the situation.

Also, the physical work we were required to do was very hard on my body, and I hurt my back at one point and never really recovered. I have the same weakness in my back, to this day. (At that time, the ersatz head of the convent went to the swami and made the claim that I was "faking" a back injury, which he told me about immediately. This is an example of how cruel those women could be toward one another, but, as I have said many times elsewhere, the reason men are in charge of the world is because women do not support other women; they actually work to undermine one another at every opportunity.)

Vedanta is remarkably like Catholicism in MANY ways, but unlike the impersonal God of Vedanta that "became all this" the God that I eventually met and fell in love with was the personal God. But it wasn't Ramakrishna. His image left me cold. Nor could I comfortably believe in reincarnation, a central theme in Hinduism and Buddhism. I struggled with these ideas. I loved the life but could not accept these concepts because it was not what I was experiencing in my meditation. I remember standing in the kitchen chatting with one of the nuns who said that she was looking forward to "merging into Brahman" when she died, and my immediate response was, "that sounds revolting!" I began to realize I was in the wrong place. It was a very sad time for me, as I love the life, but there were these other pressures.  I left once, then returned, then left for the final time. The swami was sad to see me go. When I told him I was leaving, he said, "but who will smile at the devotees?"

After leaving the convent, I tried to get baptized by the Catholics, but the nun in charge of the RCIA class was operating under a confusion that the Catholic Church would not BAPTIZE me until a previous non-sacramental marriage in my teens had been "annulled," which is NOT the policy of the Catholic Church and makes no sense at all but I could not dissuade her and did not have any Catholic friends to advocate for me. In fact, I had never even known a Catholic, personally. This is how The Catholic Church pushes people away. If you look different at all, if your experience is not the old-fashioned nuclear family model, if you don't have money or children to give to the faith, no one welcomes you.  (Please do not write me telling me how wrong I am about your faith. Understand that I am speaking about my experiences, not yours.)

So, there I was, having left the monastic life I loved. I could not join a Catholic convent, as I had intended, because I could not even get BAPTIZED by the darn Catholics. I became unchurched and unaffiliated to anything for many years. I continued my Vedanta meditations, but I felt that the universe had bamboozled me. I had left the monastic life that I loved, that allowed some time for advanced spiritual practices, ostensibly to do a better thing in the Catholic Church, and they would not even baptize me - not because of a requirement of the faith but because of a prejudice and misconception by a local functionary. The months and years ticked by, I tried to get on with my life, but I was out of place. Just surviving.

When I became disabled in my late 40s and had to stop working outside the home, my swami agreed that I should take sannyas (final monastic vows) in the same way that one of our Vedanta saints had done "directly from Ramakrishna" in a spiritual ceremony. He gave me a few instructions and named me "Sannyasini Kaliprana." This was an unconventional arrangement, but he was an unconventional swami.

Then he asked me to take over the administration of an ashram house in the Southwest, but my disabilities were a concern to me, and I would have no security once I moved in there.so I ultimately turned down the posting. 

Swami Swahananda

My Vedanta teacher

Instead, I stayed where I was and decided to live as an independent sannyasini. By this time I was in my 50's and was living on my Social Security retirement funds. There IS a tradition in India of  people giving up "householder life" for sannyas in their later years, and this arrangement made sense to me. I settled in to become a hermit and spend my time in silence, solitude, and contemplation, while leading an occasional lecture or workshop on meditation.

But The God of Catholicism continued to call me. I had been very much affected by the works of the Catholic mystics I'd read about while in the Vedanta Convent and every once in a while would feel the pull again. Eventually, I met a woman who lived in my apartment complex who was an independent Catholic nun. One thing led to another, and I was accepted into the Catholic Church in about 2006, I believe.

Around the same time, my genealogy research began to reveal that I am descended from many famous Catholic saints, and that helped to make me feel I belonged to a particular group of people. I began to learn about and commune with my grandmothers and grandfathers, like Saint Olga of Kyiv, Saint Margaret of Scotland, and many others, and gradually began to feel more and more like I belonged SOMEWHERE at least. 

Saint Margaret of Scotland

My 29th great grandmother

Unfortunately, nearly all of my Catholic friends and relations are dead, but this is what happens when you belong to a church that is disconnected from its mystic, contemplative tradition, as the American Catholic Church is at the moment. Most of the parishes seem uninterested in anything but abortion and politics, which leaves me cold. Actually, the most popular topic is FAMILY, and I do not have one of those. Most of the family I would want to discuss are dead.

In this process, I learned that the principles and practices of monastic life for Catholic and Vedantist are nearly identical. Both have a tradition of hermit monastics. My niche is very small, but at least I have one now! I particularly enjoy corresponding with other independent monastics and had an idea in the back of my mind that I might like to create a loose association of independent hermits - to support them, spiritually - but I have a lot on my plate.

Saint Olga of Kyiv

"Equal to the Apostles"

My 34th great grandmother

As is probably obvious, I do not have any "official" designation from anyone, nor is one required. Anyone who wants to lead their life in silence and contemplation is free to do it and both Hinduism and Catholicism have a long tradition of people taking off into the wilderness to commune with God as hermits, swamis, sannyasinis, or whatever you want to call it. In February of 2023, I will celebrate my 20-year anniversary of my commitment to this life, and I intend to continue on in this vein for as long as The Lord will allow, in addition to which I make a little art and write a little. It is not a bad "retirement."

I hope this blog post answers any lingering questions anyone may have about exactly who I am and what I am doing here, as opposed to that OTHER woman who was raised as a Catholic, joined a Catholic institution while very young, and eventually left to live as a hermit in an apartment in Arizona. That is another person - someone else who is being advertised as "The Accidental Hermit" but whose background, story, and orientation is quite a bit different than mine. We are not the same person.

But no matter WHO we are, may God bless us all!

May we all be blessed!

Mother Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them and do not copy any of it to any other place for any purpose.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

BLOG HAS CHANGED NAME - DIARY OF AN ACCIDENTAL HERMIT IS SILVER COTTAGE HERMITAGE NOW

Silver Parnell

Sannyasini Kaliprana

Accidental Hermit

Readers will notice that I have changed the blog name from "Diary of an Accidental Hermit," under which I have been writing for the last ten years, to "Silver Cottage Hermitage," which is what I named my hermitage residence, years ago.

I had not planned to do this but it was thrust on me, like so many things are these days. A poor, disabled, senior woman cannot even keep those things that she herself creates when people with more resources just mow them down.

A woman I knew, peripherally, 30 years ago resurfaced on Facebook recently. The monastery/convent she helped create was closed, and she and a couple other members left institutional life and moved into an apartment building in the Southwest.  They were getting set up to teach online classes and whatever else she had in mind to support herself. I did my best to help her, offering to advertise her online classes about a saint we both admire. I was happy to be in touch with her again, as we had a lot in common, plus a small bit of history.

On about May 29th, I sent her a private message with the link to my blog "Diary of an Accidental Hermit" with some explanatory conversation about it, telling her I had been writing it for the last 10 years, etc.

Shortly afterward, in June, I began to see advertisements for her. She was now being called "The Accidental Hermit" which is not how she'd ever been known before this time and did not describe her situation at all. These advertisements obliterated my blog when my readers tried to find it in a Google search. Even if my readers typed in my exact blog name, no one would be able to find it.  All you could see, for pages and pages, were advertisements for this woman's podcast.

Of course, I questioned her about it on Facebook and sent her the link to my blog again, but she ignored me for two weeks, so I sent her an email. In her response, she claimed it had nothing to do with her and that the interviewer had invented it out of whole cloth, but when I listened to the podcast, it was obvious she had fed it to the interviewer. Of course, I have no idea whether it was deliberate or accidental, which really did not matter because my blog had been obliterated. For all intents and purposes, ten years of work and close to 400 blog posts had vanished.

"The Accidental Hermit" is a catchy moniker and had been used by 2 other people in the last 30 years, but in our situation, my blog could not even be found, with nearly 400 posts, in addition to which, she and I are doing something EXTREMELY similar and there was a risk that our work would be confused with one another's. She had recently set herself up as an urban hermit in an apartment in the Southwest, which is what I have been doing for the last 20 years.

This woman was then and now remains unapologetic about the chaos that she caused me. She is too busy gaslighting me and criticizing me for how I wrote my email.  She also got the interviewer involved and wrote her an email that gave the impression that I was just some stranger that had swanned in from out of nowhere and was sending her "disturbing" emails. Like the internet version of a deluded homeless woman.

A bit of a minor celebrity, it is possible that this woman is used to people deferring to her, but to be honest, I have encountered similar officious and hostile reactions from people who have been caught violating my copyright with some biographies I have written in connection with genealogy work I did, so perhaps this is just the reaction that grasping people will give, as a matter of course, when they are caught doing something unethical.

Rather than fighting about it, I changed the name of the blog to conform to the name of my hermitage, and am in the process of switching out the individual blog addresses on some of the posts. It has cost me a lot of hours of work, but I exert myself willingly if it will save me from this sordid mess. I intend to put it behind me as quickly as possible and move on.

It IS disappointing that my friendship has been repaid in this way.  "No good deed goes unpunished!" I can't say I'm surprised, however, because this incident is yet another example of why men are in charge of the world. Most women simply do not know how to support other women, working instead to undermine one another. I've written about this tendency many times.

As is my custom, I will find whatever beneficial and holy thing that can come out of this change to the blog and pray that my little band of readers can eventually find me. I will put some work into tagging my blog posts with the original name of the blog, and hope that this will do the trick. We will be "up and running" soon.

In the meantime, may you all be blessed!

Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them and do not copy any of it to any other place for any purpose.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

SAINT JAMES THE APOSTLE, July 25, 2022

 

Saint James the Apostle

Feast day: July 25

Patron saint of: Equestrians, furriers, tanners, veterinarians, pharmacists, and Spain!

The Apostle James, brother of John the Evangelist, wrote nothing of which we have any record, and there is little even recorded of what he said, but I find his story extremely significant.

First, the alacrity with which the two brothers gave themselves over to Christ and his mission is quite something. Clearly they were destined, and Christ must have known this. Immediately, they came when He called them. I ask myself, do I go to Jesus as soon as He calls me? Am I a willing participant in this offering up of my life of pain and suffering that he has willed for me? Am I grateful to be able to share in Christ's martyrdom - the offering up of his body for the sake of all of us in the ultimate act of sacrificial service?

Early on, the mother of James and John asks for something shameful, highlighting how little, if anything, this family may have understood about Jesus' mission, in the beginning. She wants reassurance from Jesus that her boys are going to sit on either side of Him in heaven. She wants that status for them, good Jewish mother that she is. But the highest status in the realm of our Lord is in abasing oneself in service to others, not in arrogantly towering over others and taking the best for oneself.

Jesus turns to the brothers and asks them, "can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?" and they answer yes, they can - no doubt ignorant of what exactly that entails. Like the nickname that he gave them, the "sons of thunder" are making a lot of noise.

But he tells them that whoever wishes to be great among the apostles "shall be your servant." He is specifically calling his close people to live a life of sacrificial service and martyrdom - because He will soon be martyred for the sake of all mankind - and James will be the first Apostle to be martyred - put to death by the sword.

In the modern Catholic Church, some people have lost track of the lesson of sacrificial service. Many seem to be intent on lording it over others, keeping the parish family small and pushing people away who do not conform to some fixed ideas of who may be acceptable. OFTEN I notice class divisions based on income and socio-economic caste. They act like the doorman to a swanky New York nightclub that only lets in the most well-to-do folks or the leader of the cool girls in high school who bullies the more ordinary looking girls who don't possess her glamour.

This isn't a strictly Catholic thing by any means at all. It is in every major religious tradition, but it is more pronounced in Catholicism because this type of behavior is so distant from the clearly stated ideal.

Despite the Biblical imperative, some church people seem intent on enjoying themselves as much as possible, and they complain if they don't get that pleasure they are craving. The music doesn't suit them, the words of the liturgy don't appeal to them or they are not "right" for some reason. They argue about Vatican II or Pope Francis or the scandal of Pope Benedict retiring and swanning away to enjoy himself in his golden years instead of suffering with the job until his last breath, as Pope John Paul II did. 

Some are concerned with whether or not Russia was REALLY consecrated to Our Lady after all, or they are obsessed with the Latin Mass, even though no one speaks Latin any more. But they talk about how it is traditional, and in that tradition they find a beauty they do not want to live without. There is SO much controversy in the blogs and newspapers and in social media, it drives me nuts! I became Catholic because of the union with God that was experienced by the mystics, but I am drowning in politics and resentments in a good deal of the Catholic arenas. I used to see it in the parishes also, but my disabilities have grown so bad, and the Covid infections are still so prevalent, that it has been some time since I have been able to attend church.  I hope to rectify this soon.

There are, however, a lot of good folks in the faith, and I often stop during my day, as I did today, to say a prayer of thanks because I happen to know a few really devoted Catholic people who are dead serious about their life of service to others, and one lady in particular who, in addition to her serving her extended family, also wears herself out in service to all sorts of people, including me. I have been the recipient of tremendous kindness from these people, and it is all the more beautiful because theirs are the hands, but Jesus is the giver. He is behind it all, and we all know it. Each time we come together to share anything, from the case of paper towels from Costco, to a bag of vegies from Sprouts, Jesus is there with us. Sacrificial service is how He makes himself known to us, in many cases. It isn't just the mystics who enjoy His company. He is in the most ordinary of circumstances. The kingdom of Heaven is among us, and HE knows that my special friends who wear themselves out in service to others are very great indeed and that I am receiving Him through them.

Not everyone is so spiritually advanced as my benefactors, though. Part of my day was spent in trying, for the second time in two weeks, to go directly to someone who had disappointed and surprised me by something she had done but there was no self-reflection on her part, and she got huffy and imperious and tried to squirm out of something she should have just apologized about. You can't force people to be kind and considerate. They've got it in them or they don't. 

I try very hard to support and uplift the female friends and well-wishers in my life. I have often said that the reason men are in charge of the world and women have such little power is because many women do not know how to lend support and lift up other women - but there ARE a few of us who are committed to supporting our sisters in spirit, and I hope we can generate enough positive energy to encourage more to join us, over time. It will take some canvassing and development because it requires the cooperation of women who are egalitarian rather than personalities seeking fans and acolytes.

Another prayer for which I ask for contributions is for my poor little service dog. He is chittering his teeth and his little body feels a bit warm. His usual vet has no appointments available for the next two weeks, and I don't think it would be a good idea to wait because I think he may have a tooth infection. This comes on top of my car needing almost $1,000 of work, and I have just had to get rid of all my shoes and buy new ones because the ones I had were destroying the tendons in my feet and causing me terrible pain. If you can afford to donate a few dollars to the GOFUNDME, that would be wonderful. Otherwise, if you would tells others about it on your Facebook and elsewhere, I would be most grateful.

May we all be blessed!

Mother Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them and do not copy any of it to any other place for any purpose.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

SAINT KINGA OF POLAND, MY COUSIN - July 24, 2022

 

Saint Kinga of Poland

Depicted holding her monastery

at Stary Sacz

b. 5 March 1224 - d. 24 July 1292

My 7th cousin, 25 times removed

My 7th cousin, 25 times removed, is Saint Cunegunde, also called Zinga, Kioga, or, more popularly, Saint Kinga of Poland. Saint Kinga of Poland, Patroness of Poland and Lithuania, was born 5 March 1224 In Esztergom, Hungary.  She was the princess daughter of King Bela IV of Hungary and was a niece of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary and the great niece of Saint Hedwig.  An illustrious and pious family, her sisters were Saint Margaret of Hungary and Blessed Jolenta of Poland.

The sisters:
Saint Margaret of Hungary, Saint Kinga of Poland, 

and Blessed Jolenta of Poland

Both Kinga and her husband, Boleslaw V "the Chaste" embarked upon a marriage in which both parties were vowed to perpetual chastity.  Boleslaw's family was similarly pious and sincere.  His sister was blessed Salome of Cracow.  When he ascended to the throne as Prince of Cracow, Kinga became his princess.  Kinga soon began to devote herself to the care of the poor and the lepers and was known, both for her deep concern for the people, and her obedience and devotion to Christ and His Church.

Saint Kinga's husband

Boleslaw V "The Chaste"

Duke of Poland

b. 21 June 1226 - d. 7 December 1279

The storyline in which a saintly person vows lifelong chastity is common in Orthodox Church,  Catholicism , as well as other major religious traditions. In the Hindu faith, it is linked with the path of Enlightenment through meditation. Without celibacy, progress on the path toward spiritual enlightenment is considered negligible. Each religion has its own narrative of exactly WHY this is true. I just think it is interesting that the focus on restraint of the sex urge is an important one in all major religious traditions.

Kinga is patron saint of the salt miners, and the salt mine of Wieliczka in Poland has a large chapel dedicated to her that is 101 meters under ground.  It is a remarkably beautiful Cathedral that is able to accommodate about 400 people.

Poor Clare's Monastery

at Stary Sacz

When her husband died in 1279, Kinga sold all her possessions and gave the money to the poor.  Not long after that, she joined the Poor Clares monastery at Sandec (Stary Sacz).  Matters of state, and the prestige of her royal position, held no interest for her.  She was too modest and humble to have any taste for such power. Her heart belonged to Christ alone.  In fact, she would allow no one to call her by her official title of Grand Duchess of Poland.

Hers is a beautiful comment on the reality of the emptiness of fame, wealth, status and prestige. None of it comes close to the experience of the Lord in our hearts. Touched by the grandest force of all, humility would naturally occur, don't you think? It is from her humility that I surmise that she had a profound mystical experience of the Lord at some point.

While her life with the prince had been characterized by charitable works and service, her time in the monastery was spent in silent contemplation.  In 1292, at the age of 68, she passed from this world. In 1690, she was beatified, and in 1999 she was sainted.

Saint Kinga's convent, the Monastery of the Poor Clares, in Stary Sacz, Poland, remains a much-beloved landmark in the oldest section of this historic little town.

Poor Clares Monastery

Stary Sacz

On June 16, 1999, Pope John Paul II visited Stary Sacz, the town of his birth, for the proclamation of the canonization of beloved Saint Kinga.  A papal altar was erected on the common outside of the monastery that Kinga created and in which she had died.

Wooden altar at Stary Sacz

built for Pope John Paul II's visit

When suffering from headache, I recommend very simple rote prayers, such as the Jesus Prayer or the Rosary

Jesus Prayer

Lord, Jesus Christ,

son of God,

have mercy upon me,

a poor sinner.

Saint Kinga would have been familiar with the Jesus Prayer. It is a prayer used very much by Orthodox monastics and often "counted" on rope prayer beads. I have a set of these myself.

My prayer rope

I keep it in a box with my

Chaplet of Divine Mercy

The Jesus Prayer was probably first set out in the Philokalia, that great Orthodox spiritual work, in a discourse on Abba Philimon. What I have written out, above, is the "long" version that can be reduced to the shortest form: "Lord, Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me," but the version in the Philokalia only omits "a poor sinner" from its text.

Here we have another example of how the major religious traditions mirror one another in certain spiritual practices. The Jesus Prayer of the Orthodox faith, counted on knotted rope strands, is reminiscent of the Zen Koan's and the Hindu Mantra, and a little less similar to the Rosary, which is far more complex and involves meditations upon a variety of concepts.

Contrasting the role of Jesus as "son of God" with our own, "a poor sinner," sets us up for a more humble frame of mine. I imagine it is probably always good to keep in mind the difference between ourselves and The Lord.

Care has to be taken not to become attached to these things as a sort of magic talisman, of course. Advanced spiritual aspirants realize this without being told. I DO like to advocate for the beauty of the rosaries, chaplets, prayer ropes and the like, because beauty DOES attract us and, if it can attract us to something good and holy, then beauty serves a divine purpose. This is why I am not one of those people that blabs about how we should live so simply that we do not allow ourselves any beauty at all. That philosophy is the death of art and just causes stress, as far as I am concerned. Some Protestant sects are overly concerned with making things as PLAIN as possible. Certainly, a plain rosary is absolutely fine to use - but must we all have the same? No.

Rosary I made for myself

with my 29th Great Grandmother,

Saint Margaret of Scotland,

in the center piece

(Design is my original and copyrighted!)

A few years ago, I made myself a nice rosary of St. Margaret of Scotland, with her centerpiece and some lovely beads and charms that remind me of my Celtic, English and Scottish heritage. I did something unique with the bead caps to help keep me going in the right direction so that as my vision recedes more and more, I am able to follow the rosary without a problem.

There is nothing wrong with incorporating beauty into one's spiritual accoutrements. Certainly one can achieve the same result with a wood rosary or a silver one, but it's a matter of style, as far as I can see, and we shouldn't judge one another by it. Everyone has their own taste and inclinations.

This coming week, I have another eye doctor appointment. It seems like I was just there yesterday! I am praying that I do not have to have another shot in my eyeball, as I did last time! The doctor keeps lobbying to just give me the shots every month, and he gives me a headache with the pressure. My blood pressure goes up after he gives me one of these shots, and I just don't want to have them unless something is happening in my retina that calls for it. I am not fond of the anaphylactic approach.  Besides which, if I know that I am definitely getting a shot in my eye, I tend to apprehend it and my anxiety level rises. It's just what happens with PTSD. There is no magic bullet to make this stop. It's just one of the symptoms I have to deal with.  Anyway, please pray for me that the necessity for the shots will disappear and that I can stop doing this every month! I do know someone who had three shots and then never had to do it again, so it is not unreasonable to hope that I may do likewise.

Please pray for me as I pray for you, dear friends!

Next month is my birthday, and I have made an Amazon birthday wish list. I am still trying to do something positive with my diet, but food is so very expensive at the moment, it is hard to do! Ordering is easy. Amazon has my address and mails to me direct.

Here is the LINK - CLICK HERE

May we all be blessed!

Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them and do not copy any of it to any other place for any purpose.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.

SAINT WANDRILLE, my cousin, July 22, 2022

Saint Wandrille (Wandregisel)

born about 605, died 22 July 668

Saint Wandrille (aka Wandregisel) is related to several of my relatives that figure prominently in his story, though it was hard to find a picture of him. Of course, the 7th century does not have a lot of paintings of minor nobility left for us to look at. The one above is a stained glass window depicting the saint. Also, he is more well known for the Abbey of Fontenelle than his visage. Who knows? Perhaps he resisted getting a painting made of himself, being too religious to allow his face or personality to become the topic. 

If you are interested in the history of the Fontenelle Abby and Saint Wandrille, Wikipedia has some good information HERE

Cloisters and Courtyard

Fontanelle Abbey

Abbey of Saint Wandrille

Saint-Wandrille-Rincon

I had hoped to finish writing this on the 22nd, so everyone could have a chance of reading it on his feast day, itself, but my cousin, Saint Wandrille, proved to be so intertwined with many of my ancestors, that I found I had to spend a great deal more time piecing his story together than I had anticipated. I became fascinated with certain aspects and had to chase the rabbit down several holes - all of which are interconnected in a spiritual rabbit warren of delights!

In addition, as I continue to work on this blog post on the evening of the 23rd of July (and am far from finished) I am rounding the corner on day 3 of the worst headache I've ever had in my whole life. It has been years since I've had such a migraine, and even strong painkillers were of little use. Even after a nap yesterday, a full night of sleep, and rising from bed after noon, and then napping again from 2 until almost 6 p.m., I am still struggling to get a handle on it, though I no longer feel like I am on the verge of death and tempted to write loving farewell messages to everyone.

The stress of having that "caregiver" in my house who was in her own world and not a terribly honest or sincere person, and to be faced with the stress of having to clean up after someone ELSE when I am losing the ability to clean up after myself, has made my stress level skyrocket. I can never do this again. It has been a lesson to me. I will do without a caregiver and, instead, work on simplifying everything in my life.

The advantage of being a hermit is supposed to be the simplicity of the life, but unless one is REALLY isolated, there is the tendency for things to accumulate around oneself.  For instance, the modern cooking conveniences are tempting but, in the end, useless to someone who can no longer actually COOK for herself. Never let anyone convince you that appliances and cookery gadgets take the place of other people doing the actual work. It is a lie. The best thing to do, I have now learned, is to keep very minimal possessions in the kitchen and to eat raw fruits and veg and sandwiches, and perhaps some frozen meals.

Today I had a chat at the mailboxes with one of my elderly neighbors who lives alone after the death of his spouse a year or two ago.  He is not a religious person, but he has also realized the futility of possessions after a certain point in life, due to the very reason I have mentioned. We are too tired to use them!

I have to divest myself of many THINGS that have come to me through the kindness of well-wishers or through my own misguided idea that it would make things simpler somehow.

Also, since I am ACTUALLY alone, and not alone in concert with other people who are cooperating in the work of a place, I have to accommodate my needs in ways that someone living in a monastic institution would not have to do. There may be occasions when I have to eat in a restaurant, for instance.  I am not going to feel bad about it if I have to resort to that. I am doing the best I can.

WEBSITE FOR ABBAYE DE ST. WANDRILLE

When reading about the wanderings of my cousin, Saint Wandrille, and how he so quickly could switch from a courtier to a religious hermit at a location FAR away, and then 4 or 5 years later move again, and then again - the thing that kept being communicated to me is that OF COURSE he was able to go galivanting all over the country: he had so few THINGS to carry with him!

I remember, with fondness, how, when I left the convent and got my own apartment, I sat on cushions in the living room and used folding breakfast trays as my "end tables." I slept on a mattress on the floor. Those were my only furnishings. Now, my creaky old carcass needs all sorts of amenities, just to get to the point where I am able to grab even 4 hours sleep at night, but I experience nostalgia, now and then, for the days when I could make the decision about furniture and it was not made for me by virtue of the condition of this miserable body! I really need to make some changes so that I can make do without a caregiver.

Once, a nun called me "house proud" because I made her put her steaming mug of tea on one of my breakfast trays rather than my landlord's new carpet. I was rather more thinking of the deposit I would lose if there were tea stains on the carpet when I moved out, as I was living entirely on the floor and had no furniture at all. Today, that nun could rightly accuse me of being mired in worldly possessions, that's for sure.

 I mention her now because I dreamt about her last night, as well as some other nuns. It was an odd dream. We were all wearing full-length gerua robes of the variety one wears for formal occasions. I say "formal," because the sleeves were big and wide. It would be impossible to do much with THOSE sleeves! The material was substantial and rustled when we moved.

I was leading us all into another religious institution. It was a very big house. The lighting was low, the mood serene. No furniture at all - but I was leading them into the shrine room where there would be an altar, and I believe I was introducing them to the place. My friend who called me "house proud" in that early apartment of mine was following close behind me, as if she was trying to catch up with me and ask me something. But no one was speaking, and I did not want to talk. All I could hear was the rustling of the fabric of the beautiful pinkish-orange robes. We were bare-footed, so there was no clatter and echo of shoes on the floor.

 It was one of "those" dreams that gave me the impression that I had actually visited with her. When I woke, I wondered if she was alright because it has happened to me many times in my life that when I have a dream that feels like this and it involves someone I know, it is a visitation from a person who has just died, and I do not find out until later that the person has left this mortal plane. Sometimes I get a message from the person that stays with me forever. 

People do not evaporate when they die. There are minds far greater than mine who have lent their personal experiences, intellect, and writing talent to explain it. All I know is that all my saintly ancestors are today as real as they ever were. When we talk to them, they hear us, and they accompany us in our daily trails. They are our holy family. That is all I know, but this is one of the reasons why I research my ancestors and other saints that interest me because they're not dead. The people who lived as hermits, nuns, priests, bishops, kings and queens - who left abbeys and churches, institutions, or long lines of descendants are with us today. The dust of the years may be on the things they left behind, but there is no dust on them!

Blessed Pepin I of Landen (Modern Belgium)

aka Pepin the Elder or Old

Lord of Brabant

Governor of Austrasia

b. about 580 - d. 27 Feb. 640

and his wife

Saint Itta of Metz

b. 592 - d. 8 May 652

My 39th Great Grandparents

Saint Wandrille is something like my first cousin, 42 times removed. He was a relative of Blessed Pepin I, who is my 49th Great Grandfather. I am positing that Saint Wandrille's father, whose name was Walchisus, was possibly a son of Carloman or one of Carloman's siblings. (This is NOT the Carloman of the 8th Century, obviously.) At this point, we just don't have enough information to say concretely how it was, exactly, that Wandrille was the "kinsman" of my great grandfather, Blessed Pepin I, but he was some kind of cousin. That is all we know from the historical record.

Wandrille was educated in the Frankish court in Metz.  He would have been a contemporary of the children of Arnoald and Oda of Metz, all four of whom were sainted (Doda, Itta, Modoald and Severa.) This seems significant to me, as it accounts for the religious seed planted within him so strongly, that later manifested itself. His early companions were all saints!

Saint Itta of Metz

who was married to Blessed Pepin

It's fun to put together the information I've learned in my research about Wandrille with the genealogy research I'd previously done on the court of Metz, as Arnoald of Metz and his wife Oda were my 39th great grandparents! As in other families of such an early era, I found that I was descended from TWO of Arnoald's children: both Saint Doda (Clothilde) and Saint Itta of Metz were my 38th great grandmothers! Doda was married to Saint Arnulf of Metz, and Itta was married to Blessed Pepin I, mentioned above.

Saint Doda of Metz

my 38th Great Grandmother

b. about 584

Wandrille went on to become a courtier who served Dagobert I, son of Clotare II, "The Great." Dagobert was the King of the Franks, Austrasia, Neustria and Burgundy and was my 2nd cousin, 40 times removed. (Again, for those not familiar with my blog, I will explain that the nobility of Europe intermarried so often that I am a cousin to myself 100 times over, it sometimes seems. When you are descended from certain key people, one seems to be be descended from all the royal houses. That's just the way it is. Americans whose families have been in this country since the 1600's and early 1700's are often these types of descendants from royal families.  "The 2nd sons" who did not inherit the titles, thrones and lands of their fathers in Europe, were thrilled to come here and own land in the New World.)

It seems that Wandrille quickly tired of life at court because he retired to become a monk at Montfaucon when he was still in his 20's, in 629. Saint Balderic, my 42nd great granduncle, was his mentor. Evidently, Saint Wandrille had done this hastily, as he'd not gotten approval from Dagobert, who eventually gave the nod. In those days, one had to get the approval of the king for EVERYTHING one did. They did not have the many freedoms to which we as Americans are so accustomed and take for granted as our right. Life at court had its advantages, but in many respects, it was (and probably still largely IS) a golden cage.

Statue of St. Balderic

My 42nd Great Granduncle

Although Saint Wandrille had been married, early on, he and his wife separated, by mutual consent, each of them to retire to a religious life, sometime prior to his becoming a religious and leaving court.  This is a theme that repeats itself throughout the history of our faith. There is something compelling about the monastic life that seems inborn and spontaneous, so that no matter what sort of life one has to live in order to support one's physical being, in the end, it is only God that matters at all, and once the frantic toing and froings of young life, it is natural to focus in on what matters. This is what I have done over the last 20 years, and although some Americans think it "kookie" or bizarre, it is part of a long tradition shared by many religions. We come from God and return to God in some fashion of other, and this process is interpreted variously by the various religions. I am descended from dozens of Celtic and European saints and THIS is in my blood, so it is how I naturally come to feel at home.

After accomplishing one's worldly duties, it almost seems natural to retire and devote oneself to God. This is a theme that Christianity shares with Hinduism, and probably other major religious traditions as well. This touches on a frequent concept in my writings. All the major religions traditions have a great deal in common, from the aims of spiritual life to the methods of arriving at that aim. Each expresses the goal differently, but when we are open to the harmony of all religions, it is quite easy to see. Joseph Campbell did a wonderful series of interviews on this topic, years ago, based upon his books.

The portion of Saint Wandrille's life I'm particularly keen to learn more about is when he went to live as a hermit in "complete solitude" at "Saint-Ursanne in the Jura." It is named for Saint Ursicinus, a seventh-century monk who built at least one monastery (and credited for more, I believe) in that locale and with whom Saint Wandrille must certainly have been acquainted. This is a fascinating tidbit that I hope to chase up later.

Today, Saint-Ursanne is a small town in Swizterland that maintains a distinctly medieval flavor, with many houses still standing from that era, as well as "a hermitage and an 18th century bridge," according to Wikipedia. I am going to guess that the ruins of that hermitage are most likely built on the premises of the hermitage that Wandrille occupied at the time he was there, in the 7th century, but that is something I would have to research further. Saint Ursanne is one of the MANY places I would have loved to have visited, had I not become disabled so early in life. Every summer, this town hosts a festival for a famous international "hill climb" in August. Thank God for the internet, though, eh? I have to "put a pin in it" and return to this research at a later time. With these rather more obscure topics and smaller locales, research is often limited by differences in language. I do not know any German, and I possess only a smattering of French, so this research may have to rely upon the work or assistance of others at a later time.

The bridge at Saint-Ursanne

Wandrille spent no more than 5 years at the hermitage because, by 635, he was at the monastery of Saint Columban (a contemporary of Ursicinus), at Bobbio in Northern Italy. He also planned to travel to Ireland but never got further than the Tarentaise Valley in the Swiss Alps of France.

After this, he was ordained priest and founded Fontenelle Abbey in Normany. His friend Archbishop Audoin of Rouen advocated for it with Erchinoald, who donated the land for the purpose. It was Wandrille's "last stand" and probably his greatest accomplishment, as it became a center of great learning. The ruins of the Abbey are located near the Village of Saint-Wandrille Rancon.

I would have loved to visit this village also. It is primarily focused on farming and forestry and is situated on the banks of the River Seine, 18 miles north-west of Rouen. Saint Wandrille's Abbey's is his primary "claim to fame" and it is very quaint and impressive, but the Abbey that stands today, in ruins, is not from Saint Wandrille's era, though no doubt built on the earliest ruins. The current façade belongs to the 13th and 14th Centuries and is described beautifully in the Wikipedia page for Saint-Wandrille-Rancon, subtitle "Places of Interest."

Village of Saint-Wandrille-Rincon

at Wikipedia

VISIT THIS LINK FOR MORE INFORMATION

As I finish the written portion of this blog, I am hearing gun fire not far from where I live, on the banks of the Rio Grande River, close to the area of the "South Valley" where there are a lot of little ranchitos that are very old and quaint. Some of them have adobe ovens outside their homes. I believe they are called "hornos."

You can see the familiar shapes and imagine the wonderful baked goods that come out of them. This area is steeped in history but I have not had a chance to know any of these people, since I moved here after I became disabled, and the lifestyle of a hermit is not a social one. The gun fire is concerning, though, because what goes up must come down.

But I still manage to meet people in the parking lot, as there are more than 70 apartments here. Day before yesterday, I helped a lovely woman with her car and some advice about how to discourage the thieves from breaking into it. She got the car started. In gratitude, she came to my apartment the next morning and brought me a lovely package of home-made frozen chile rellenos. These and tamales are traditional foods that communicate culture and love to those to whom they are gifted, and I am particularly grateful for these. I have a friend who gives me home-made pozole at Christmas - another New Mexico custom!

My headache is mostly gone, so I hope when I wake later on it will have disappeared. Please pray for me in that regard. Also, please pray that I am able to simplify my hermit life in this little apartment in a way that will enable me to care for myself and also follow through with my religious practices.

May we all be blessed!

Mother Silver Rose

Sannyasini Kaliprana

P.S. All of the blog posts I write are independently researched and written by me and all of them are protected by legal copyright, so please just enjoy them here and leave them here where you found them and do not copy any of it to any other place for any purpose.

(c) Copyright 2022, Silver S. Parnell

All rights reserved.