Arriving at the Monastery

Last night I arrived in Barcelona taking RyanAir from Torino, Italy. When I claimed my luggage, I followed Father Toni Pou's directions. With the help of Antoine, a Syrian pharmacist, who had just completed his MBA at University in Barcelona, I took the Aerobus to Plaza Espana. Antoine was so kind in assisting me with ticket purchase and getting luggage on and off the bus. When I was on my own in this big city plaza, I had to figure out which was the Train Station. I asked for some guidance from my internal council and saw an elevator right in the middle of the busy square that indicated I should get in and go down. I followed the signs to Montserrat and found the ticket kiosk. Although it was in English, I was confused about my choices and the kind of ticket that I needed to purchase that would get me all the way to the monastery. Antoine had told me that the reason the busses were so crowded was due to a Taxi Strike. I didn't want to take a chance of missing this train that would take about an hour to get to Monistrol de Montserrat. Fr. Toni had emailed that if I missed the last "rackrail" connection that was at 6:40 pm up the mountain, I would have to call a taxi....,which I now knew weren't running today. I really didn't want to be stranded on the side of the mountain. 

When I got on the train my suitcase rolled as the train started up and my heavy backpack caused me to lose balance falling on to the woman seated next to me. After apologizing I asked for her help to know when to get off the train. She showed me a lit map of the stops and which one I was to watch for. Thanking her, I seated myself closer to the map so that I could follow along. 

When I got off at Monistrol, I noticed an older gentleman welcoming a woman who also got off the train. I saw signs for the Cremallera, the rackrail train that climbs the mountain. I asked them and although we had a seemingly insurmountable language barrier they pointed to the lift that I should take down with my luggage, cross under the tracks and go to the other side. When I got out of the lift and began walking under the tracks, I saw the woman waiting for me. She had crossed the tracks and come down the long staircase on the other side to be sure that I got into the lift that would take me to the other side of the tracks. Then she climbed back up the long staircase. 

When I got out of the lift, there she was again, waiting for me. She wasn't comfortable leaving me without checking with an agent, however, no one was around so she indicated where I should wait and left me there. 

On the bench near the tracks were two young men who had come from shopping in the town. Nikolai spoke pretty good English and together with Merkolai, explained some things about the train, the mountain, shopping, the water etc...

Good thing they were there. I would have done some serious worrying if they hadn't been there. We waited together for about 40 minutes when at 6:40, just as Father Toni had emailed, the final train came right at the last minute to take us up the mountain. 

When we got off the train. It felt like old friends parting. I told them to look me up if they came into the area during the week and they agreed. They were camping in the mountains and mountain climbing further up the mountain. 

I started up the hill with absolutely no idea where to go. The streets were pretty empty. I saw a lone woman walking, she turned even before I called out to her. When I asked my question she immediately pointed out a man in a black suit with a maroon shirt. She explained that men dressed in these colors were there to help.

He explained that this was the time for Vespers until 7:45. So no one would be at the monastery to welcome me. I found the PORTERIA and left my luggage inside the door. Then I climbed three sets of stairs to find a sign, that I think said they were at Vespers. 

I went over to the Basilica to catch the last couple of notes of the children's choir. Then I went back to the porteria and climbed the stairs again. The sign was gone and the door locked. I was beginning to get a sick feeling that as it got later I might be spending my first night sleeping on the staircase. 

I went up the long staircase one more time, this time I saw the doorbell and I was buzzed in. 

It took a long time for the Porter to locate Father Toni. Who had set up my reservation. I was really glad that I made copies of all of our correspondence. 

Somehow there was a mix up and the guest master who speaks NO English wasn't expecting me. Then they misinterpreted my paperwork and thought that I was to be at the Apartments instead of the Monastery. We finally got past the language barrier and they took me in graciously hurrying me along strange labyrinthine halls so that we could get my luggage to my room and all of us get to dinner. 

I met a couple of women at dinner along with Brother Paul who cares for guest meals. Eva speaks a little English so, as tired as I was from a full day of travel, I was relieved to be eating, to have a place to sleep and very grateful to the Black Virgin and all of her cohorts, my spirit council for taking good care of me with just enough adventure to make the day exciting. 

I returned to my room to find sheets and towels on my bed. The room is simple and wonderful. The QUIET was truly deafening. I opened my small monastic window and gazed at the gorgeous mountain as I prepared for bed. Listening to the many bells, I felt at home. 

Hall of Mirrors

Today is Sunday May 28, 2017

I can hardly believe that my last message was sent on Wednesday. My goal has been to write daily, however, everything here has been so intense that there has been no personal time to write.

Last night was an amazing opportunity to make contact with the Cosmos.

We attempted this by starting with an evening of instruction about two Halls in the Temple that we visited this past week.

The first is the Hall of Mirrors. It is difficult to explain or describe this Hall. The entire space is captivating and like no other sacred place that I have visited. All four walls are mirrors that slant in slightly as the wall goes higher. 

I guess that the walls are about 20 feet high possibly more. Remember that this Temple is built inside of a mountain! It is truly incredible to be in the womb of Earth Mother. Every item inside the Temple is created by a Damanhurian.

The ceiling is a vast circular mandala that looks like stained glass. The Falcon's great wings meet creating the outer circle. The inner pieces are many colors and in the center, is a concentrated circle with colors and shapes differing from the rest. No photography is permitted, so this description will have to do.

Upon arriving, our first ritual act was as individuals of our group of nine. Each of us was to announce our presence to the Temple. This is a practice that I also teach at the Labyrinth. It is a way for those who come to visit and will be asking and expecting some energy exchange, to make a first connection with the Sacred entity.

In the center of the floor was a black circle held by a decoration of tiles like flowers and vines. Shama invited us to hold hands in a resonance circle around the center. Then each person, one by one, joined the hands they held behind their back so that the circle would remain intact. That person would then step into the center to announce her/his name and where they were from. In this way The Temple, which is an intelligent being, would recognize each of us.

When I first walked into the Hall of Mirrors, I saw myself and then I saw another reflection of my self looking at my self looking at my self. As I joined the eight of my group, Shama invited us to dance first with our self beyond the mirror. When the music was changed we were invited to dance with two of our selves beyond the mirror and then three and four. Finally, we were invited to discover how many images of our self we could find. I found 26 out of the possible 30. It was amazing to be able to see all of my physical reflections at once. Seeing my complete back as I danced was a first for me. To see my hair flowing in waves down my back, I was surprised at how long it had grown. This is not a vain comment, this is a new awareness as I see someone looking back at me who is not familiar. She is new, mysterious, full of wonder and a newly affirmed authenticity. She carries the Divine Feminine at a critical time is history. It is the Divine Feminine that brings hope to our planet as she rises.

Image credit unknown

I have so much more to share. Must leave now to go to Crotalo's Nucleo for Sunday lunch.

Later

PC

Temple of Humankind

Photo found at http://www.wanttoknow.info/i/damanhur-temples-of-humankind

Visiting the Damanhurian underground Temples is an out of this world fantastic experience. Several years ago, I visited for the first time and the experience took my breath away and inspired the deep desire to return here someday. Someday is now. 

The Temples are a work in progress. 

Every Damanhurian is represented in the Temples in several ways. The beauty and majesty of the art is all the ordinary people's work. Each one has hand crafted a terra cota representation of themselves. Many of the images in the paintings are actual faces of individuals of Damanhur. There are also paintings of those who have transitioned. The images of the three founders who have transitioned are seen in the mosaic marble floor along with the current leadership. 

Damanhur employs a rotating leadership and everything is done as a collective. 

We first visited several halls on the lower level. All of the Temples are inside the mountain. The Damanhurians hollowed out the mountain creating large caves. They did this by hand, using picks and buckets to remove the heavy rock of Earth. The Temples are entered by a discreet door that looks like a wooden cellar door. Before entering, each person must be attuned with the energy of the Temple. If this isn't done you could have an uncomfortable experience. No one enters the Temple area without a Damanhurian guide who first called our names, like a roll call. They have already gathered our birth dates when we registered. This is the information that is shared with the "intelligent energy" inside the Temple. Once inside, you are in a magical Egyptian passageway that has hidden doorways for you to discover in order to proceed. It is also a way to keep intruders out. 

We visited the Hall dedicated to Mother Earth with every possible surface artistically designed to honor Earth. The ceiling is filled with fiber optic stars in the pattern of the heavens 22,000 years ago.

No one is permitted to take photos inside the Temple. The Hall which is a few steps higher is dedicated to the spiritual aspects of Earth. Here is the androgen of male and female and the Creator with energies shooting into the cosmos creating the cosmic bodies and forces and creation dripping from its grasp.

A Young Fern Sings

Young fern leaf

In the late 1990's I visited Damanhur with a group of doctoral students. At that time, I knew that I had to return to experience some of the wonders that I wasn't able to see at that time. 

One of those wonders were the experiments that the Damanhurians were doing with plants. They had altered the technology of a lie detector that had the ability to pick up subtle changes in the skin when someone wasn't telling the truth. 

With the alterations to the equipment they are able to attach a small metal clip to a leaf of a plant and press a nail into the ground near the roots of the plant. With both of these connections they are able to hear the energy vibration that the plant emits. As amazing as that sounds, it isn't the most amazing part of their findings. 

First the machine was attached to a wild blueberry plant and there was no response. There were a couple more attempts to make a connection with one of the plants. Just as I was about to lose hope in what seemed to be an outlandish claim, that plants could and would actually communicate, the machine was connected to a young fern. After a few moments while we waited for the plant to attune itself and some of us were ready to pack up and leave, there was a sound and a green light began to signal. 

Then the amazing happened. We listened to a couple of random pitches as the plant began to respond to our words of encouragement. Since the tones sounded melodic to me, I began to sing Dona Nobis Pacem, translated to: Grant Us Peace, a round that we used to sing around Girl Scout campfires. 

I sang gently and calmly allowing the young fern to feel the vibration of the pitches that I sang. Soon I noticed that the plant began to change pitches. Sometimes it matched my pitches and sometimes it seemed to harmonize. The whole experience filled each one of us with awe. This wasn't just a quirk. We continued singing duets for a while. It seemed that the young fern was as thrilled that we were singing to her as we were thrilled to have her singing with us. 

Each day is filled with wonder. 

Grant Us Peace

Pastor Carol

Diamantel's Touch

Random photo from the Sacred Forrest ~ anonymous

Another visit to the Sacred Forrest to wall the circuits that are energetically programmed for different healings.

This area had been strip mined and left in very poor condition. The Damanhurians have been not only protecting, but also restoring this Forrest. Their dream is to build a new temple here to be the Temple to the Parliament of all Peoples. 

Diamantel is a beautiful tree that the Damanhurians protect. She is the matriarch of the Forrest. There is a spiral circuit around her which I walked. It leads all the way up to her and then I reversed direction to double back the way I entered. 

There is a sign posted asking that Diamantel not be touched. She is special and Sacred to the Forrest and there is concern about detrimental human contact. 

Each one was careful not to touch her even as she drew us to herself at the center of the spiral. What we noticed is that Diamantel had not read or had chosen not to heed the warning sign. She seemed to long for human contact as her branches bowed low to brush our heads, faces and cheeks as we walked the spiral circuit. She tenderly reached out to us in the silence of this walking meditation. We smiled. 

On our way out of the spiral, we had to pass each other on the narrow path. There were moments when we had to embrace one another in order to stay on the path as we passed each other. I felt like we were dancing around the spiral as we negotiated our way out from the center through embraces and spins. 

PC

Standing Stone

Into the Sacred Forrest to walk, feel, experience. A time to open my heart in a new intentional way with purpose and curiosity. Isn't every tree, every Forrest filled with this very same sacred magic?

I walked the area in the small natural plaza near a standing stone of over six feet. My body and spirit were drawn to the stone which had a very simple Celtic cross in a circle at the top above my head. At first, I leaned into the stone as if to be embraced by her energy, which I felt and experience. I pressed my lips to her rough cool surface and she kissed me back with tender firmness. 

I allowed myself to turn in her embrace so that my back was flush against her as she supported me. I felt her strength and her grounded-ness. I felt secure and held as I leaned into her knowing that no matter how much force I pressed into her she would hold me pressing back with equal force allowing me to hold my ground. 

When I was summoned with the others to come forward to create a circle in the natural plaza surrounded by stately trees, I felt strong energy strands stretching from the standing stone attached now to my back. It felt like thick glue stretching as I intentionally pulled away feeling her pull on me. Her strength came with me even as I moved away from her. 

It was an ancient grounding strength I felt. 

I thought of Ari'El, the great stone pillar of angelic strength that always accompanies me. I am held in this grounding and strength, not only ancient, but eternal. 

Thank you, Ari'El, for your willingness to free me and to hold me, just as I hold you knowing we share our freedom, in this, together we are eternally strong. 

PC

The Power of Names

Lunedi (Monday) after lunch.

The food is too good. Everything we eat is beautiful to look at, aromatic and delicious. After lunch, we were all wanting to take a nap.

Passaro is our van driver. All Damanhurians take an animal name and a plant name that they have as a teacher. This means that they are expected to learn the traits of each and to emulate them. Passaro means 'sparrow'. Today our guide's name means 'dolphin'. This makes me think about the names that I have had over the years. The name that I have had for many years is Snowswan. It is the email name that I have had from the very beginning of my dance with technology. 

When we lived in Michigan, we were blessed to live on Buckhorn Lake which is a small lake connected to Lake Orion. There was a swan couple who lived there. I called them Papa and Mama swan. 

I remember when I was traveling with the Native Americans across Oklahoma through Native American territory, some of the group were asking about receiving a Native name. It was then that I realized that the swans had already named me. 

Years later I shared a Vision Quest with Grandfather Bear Heart and he gave me a new name, 'She Who Walks In Balance.'

Naming is important. I believe that we are to live into our names, to immerse ourselves into the vibration that they provide.

Snowswan refers to the large white mute swan with a yellow-orange beak. The male can be formidable. When Frank and I lived on Buckhorn Lake in Michigan, the neighbors would warn me about the dangers of getting too close to the wild swans. There were stories of swans attacking folks who came to close to their nest, especially to the signets.

I had witnessed Papa Swan's warrior courage when he defended his family's territory from the Canadian Geese. They fought ferociously. Papa Swan would arch his regal neck, puff out his wings forming a kind of arch around his back, draw back his head with the readiness of a cobra preparing for the strike, and speed after the perceived threat. He was stunningly formidable!

The naturalist at the wild life center told me their wings are so strong, they can break a human arm. There have also been attacks on swimmers that can be fatal. 

I spent a lot of time with Papa and Mama. Remembering the neighbors' warnings, I was cautious around the swans Daily, Papa and Mama would come flanking the boat, one on each side. They stayed with me as I peddled around the lake. I felt regally escorted. Now they began to talk to me. They made these soft sounds, more of a chirp than a quack, much like talking. I asked one of my Native friends how to understand them. She told me to stop listening with my head and start listening with my heart. We now communicate easily. 

One night Papa Swan arrived at the pier. He was very agitated and I knew he wanted me to get into my peddle boat and follow him. I called Frank to see what he thought about this. It was dusk. The sun would soon set and I never went out on the lake at night. There were no lights and it didn't feel quite safe, but I knew what Papa wanted and it felt urgent.

Frank said he would put the lights at the back of the house on so that I could find my way back and, of course, he would be there waiting for me.

I got into the boat taking my walking stick that always accompanied me, even on the water. Sometimes I used it to gather debris and sometimes to gather treasures like swan feathers. 

Out we went. I followed Papa into the lake. He moved with determination and purpose. Soon we came to a form laying in the water. I grasped my stick to reach out and gasped when I realized what it was. Papa had killed a very large Canadian Goose. I said to him, "Papa, what have you done? I used my stick to pull it close to the boat. Then I lifted it on to the flat front area of the peddle boat.

Papa seemed to calm, as if his mission was accomplished. He was so proud to have defended his territory and preserved it for his nesting and future family. I found it sad to see this beautiful goose dead, at the same time, understanding the way of the wild and Papa's instinct to protect and provide.

Then a new realization hit me, Papa was giving me a gift. He was proud and happy to offer me this gift.

The swan is a strong totem filled with grace and beauty. For years now I continue to grow into this strength and to aspire to grace and beauty, not just of body, but of soul and spirit. Papa and Mama have taught me much about being a protector and warrior spirit. They have also showed me grace and beauty. Most importantly they have helped me to understand that being a warrior and emanating beauty can be done simultaneously. 

I received my name from Papa Swan and I believe it is my true name.

Damanhur Crea

Damanhur is more amazing than I remember. Today has been so full.

Morning meditation started my day at 7:30. After we went to meet the group for an amazing variety of breakfast foods. Much different from our daily fare of hard boiled eggs and hard rolls at the convent guesthouse in Assisi

Christina is our contact person and she speaks wonderful English. We enjoyed a thorough tour of the grounds and the Crea.

The Crea contains the Marketplace, the offices of professional medical groups, the Selfic art gallery, the Art studios, a cafe, a restaurant, and a bakery, and much more. After WWII, Italy paid a huge price when its economy collapsed with its loss of the war. Business moved out of the valley. The population went from 20,000 to 5,000. There were no jobs. Damanhur took advantage of the economic decline when it purchased an abandoned typewriter factory; purchasing it for its center of arts and commerce. This is called the Crea.

After lunch we went in vans up the mountain to visit the Sacred Forrest. When I visited Damanhur in the early 2000s this was not a part of their dream. Now they are inviting shamans and other holy leaders to visit this place. Once it is confirmed that this is the appropriate space they will invite other like-minded people to help them build the Temple of the Parliament of all peoples. There is no plan as of yet. They will wait till the people come together and in community they will decide what the plan will be and their next steps.

Very purposefully they have chosen the site of an abandoned mine, with the dream of together healing the area.

Dreaming together seems to be a prominent theme here in Damanhur. Perhaps a model for us as we move through these changing times of our own abandoned mines into the fear and the excitement of what we are to create.

Dream on.

Pastor Carol

Last Leg of Train Ride

Well just when I thought I had the hang of this train thing…OMG!!! There is someone in my seat. What are you saying, "Brescia." No, I'm going to Torino. WRONG TRAIN!! Announcement DOORS ARE CLOSING!! WHEW got off in a nick of time. Run! The whistle is blowing and my train is about to leave. OMG!!! I made it. 

Okay. So, what is the life lesson here? Any takers? I'd love to hear from you. I was breathless and ever grateful to all my spirit helpers who assisted with the quick and clear thinking in a strange situation. My seat partner is not too friendly until I asked for help in knowing when my stop was coming up. Then she jumped in and offered some help. 

I just received a call from Jennifer who is picking me up at the train station right after she fetches Coco at a nearby station. Coco will be my roommate. I never have a roommate because I like the quiet, so this will be a new experience. I am wondering how this came to be and what lessons are waiting for me.

We arrived in Damanhur to find dinner waiting for us. We are both very tired from the tension of travel and ready for a good night’s rest. 

As we are unpacking, I learn that Coco is also surprised to have a roommate and is wondering, as I am, about the reason for our meeting.

Sound asleep, I miss a great noise that woke Coco and at least three others during the night. No one seems to know what the sound was. If it happens again, I asked Coco to awaken me. 

So now we wait......

Later,

PC

Train Friend

Taking the train from Assisi to Firenze, known to me as Florence, is a tense experience, traveling alone, not knowing the language or how the train system works. I purchased the tickets before leaving home so that I would be certain to have them. It cost me a lot more money for that bit of security. What a lesson in trust. I could have simply waited till I went to the train and purchased my ticket here.

As soon as the taxi delivered me to the station, I looked for a ticket agent. Office was closed so I headed for the cafe to ask some questions and decided to purchase a sandwich. At that moment, a couple of nuns walked in and I felt drawn to follow them down the hall. They met another nun and I asked about the posted departures when their friend said that she was going to Firenze. Talk about feeling out-of-control when, in fact, everything is just as it should be. I now had a traveling companion to Firenze.

At this moment, I am traveling on a train, through a long dark tunnel, with my new Franciscan nun friend, Michaela. We don't speak a common language so I pulled out my iPhone translator and we have been communicating a bit with our fingertips.

The ticket agent came through to check tickets. Hooray. He speaks English and explained that there are two stops in Firenze and mine is the second one, where I get my connection to Turino.

It is almost time to switch trains in Firenze.

When we got off the train, Michaela kissed me first on the left and then on the right cheek and lifting her hand in blessing she formed the cross on my forehead blessing me as I journey.

Now surrounded by a mob of people at the train station I am thankful for having the ticket in hand.

I trust I will find a new friend.

Pastor Carol

Assisi: Last Day

San Damiano Cross

Today was my last day in Assisi. I attended morning prayer 6:45 and Mass 7:15 at the Basilica of Saint Francis.

I love being surrounded by the deep resonant voices of the monks. I sat next to a monk who helped me find my way through the Italian Book of Hours so that I could join in morning prayer.

When Mass started, all of the nearly 30 priests were in white robes. I think today was the celebration of San Bernardino of Siena.

I had this amazing sense of walking with the monks in procession to the altar. My heart was tugging me up the aisle as I sat on the hard wooden pew. It was as if I had done this many times before. It is in moments like this that I know I was a monk in at least one previous lifetime. In this lifetime I had to be a warrior in order to follow the call that I experienced. The church that I gave my life to was not prepared to welcome me and many like me. We were deemed unacceptable for priesthood because of our gender or gender preference.

It is so sad to me that this kind of small thinking continues even today. I am ever grateful to Ken Hayes, Disciple of Christ minister, deceased, who recognized my call and my need to fulfill it. It is now my deepest joy when I can participate in a call and help the seeker to fulfill it.

My uphill journey this week, as I climbed to the Hermitage of Saint Francis, reminded me of the joy that follows the struggle. The long hard breathless climb that tried to stop me with every step followed by the total elation of still being alive, actually vibrantly alive when I completed an extremely difficult accomplishment. In that joy is the desire to bless others with a gentler journey. When I was received by the Independent Catholic Church as priest which led to consecration as Bishop, the possibility of offering guidance and ordination to those who were judged to be unworthy by reason of gender or gender preference became a reality. Going full circle. Once seeking some one to guide me through those troubled and troubling waters, now I know the way to encourage others.

This morning I participated as fully as I could considering the language barrier. It was amazing to be gazing on a replica of the San Damiano Cross. The legend of Saint Francis hinges on this cross. It is said that the Christ on this cross spoke to Francis asking him to "rebuild the church."

For myself, I wonder at the meaning of this request. Have we who call ourselves Christians, so badly misinterpreted the teachings of Jesus that he is asking us to REBUILD?

What exactly am I, are we, being asked to do and be. This is a question that I often ask myself. Because I relive the fervor of my life as a monk, doesn't mean that I had it right or wrong, however, I am wondering if this time I am being asked to do it over to come to a different conclusion?

Is this my call to make a difference? I think that every one of us is expected to strive to make a difference. Some of us have the call to help one or two and some are called to bring hope to many.

Hope is so important. To know that there is something more.

It would be awesome if we made a difference ........together.

Have any ideas?

Pastor Carol

Hermitage of the Carceri

Today was a hard day, in a number of ways. It was a day of silence and of intense climbing. First I forgot my walking stick at our guesthouse and had to run back for it while the others waited for me. I knew I would not be able to do this climb without it for balance and support. Then our leader somehow became confused and we wandered for at least 45 minutes trying to find where the path up to the Hermitage left the road. As often happens, when everything feels insurmountable, it was a day of blessings and beauty.

This morning seven of us were starting out to make the intense four mile climb straight up the mountain to Francis of Assisi's retreat where he and the brothers would go to find peace, solitude and time for prayer. Here away from the crowds and demands of their ministry, they found their spiritual reserve, so they could continue their intense work in the city streets.

I can't imagine how long it would take them after begging for their food the day before and making the dizzying climb in sandals that could feel every stone and rock on the mountain.

The hermitage at Carceri is a series of grottoes, caves. When I walked into Francis' grotto and saw the stone floor that is rough and hard, worn shiny by Francis' body when he slept there on the jagged rocks. Francis always used a rock for a pillow.

Saint Francis, Friar Leone and Friar Ginepro admire the sky

I was glad to see that he took time for rest and enjoying nature that he so deeply loved. There is a bronze sculpture of him lying on the ground with his sandals removed as he gazed at the stars!  Next to him two of the Brothers stand also studying the sky.

My journey to the top was a real test of strength and stamina. Sometimes I remind myself that this is not just a journey of my personal survival. Sometimes I call my attention back from labored breathing and heart pounding, to the intention of this experience. I then hear the hundreds and thousands of bird songs filling the air and I see the intense colors of the flowers all along the way and the hundreds of butterflies of differing colors swarming around the butterfly bushes that line the trail. I feel the air changing as I climb higher. I see how high I am as I look out into the valley below and beyond. I feel like I am walking in the tree tops and the gentle breeze refreshes.

Today medium size butterflies of intense gold color outlined with deep brown or black were flying around my head and body. It was surreal. Whenever butterflies show up like this, I connect with the Ancestors. I wondered who was walking with me today: Frankie, Mom, Dad, Grandmothers, my dear friends and many more.

I have a butterfly bush in my yard at home. The Ancestors are always welcome. It is on their shoulders that I stand. Someday our children and those after them, for generations, will stand on our shoulders. I am reminded to be the best that I can be for the day when a butterfly reminds the next generation and the generation after that, that I am still around and willing to help if you need me.

Pastor Carol

Assisi, Italy - May 14, 2017

Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi

Today's lessons were about the joy of flexibility. We abandoned our schedule twice to participate in local events that had been unknown to us. The English Mass at the Basilica of Saint Francis was changed from 11:00 to 9:00 a.m. Which conflicted with the lecture schedule. Some of the Catholics in the group wrestled with their choice. Each followed their heart.

As much as I wanted to experience Mass in the Basilica I didn't want to miss the lecture.

The second adaptation was the afternoon schedule. Pat learned that there was a procession planned to move relics from Saint Clare Basilica to the New Church. It was a rare opportunity for us to join in. It was at 5:00 pm. Of course, this is Italy, so it started around 5:30. There was music and singing. I enjoyed the young nun with her guitar who led the singing through the streets of Assisi. Someone was her moving music stand walking alongside her. She was wired with a microphone that blared through portable speakers attached to long pole that was carried much further back in the procession so that more folks could join in the singing.

Our Pilgrim group stood along the processional route as the hundreds of clergy and religious processes by. After the Bishop passed by carrying the relics we followed the townspeople to their final destination at New Church.

When the festivities concluded, I doubled back to the Basilica to spend some quiet time in the chapel where the original San Damiano Cross hangs. The life story of Saint Francis hangs on this crucifix.

Saint Francis had a vision of the Christ figure speaking to him from the cross. Francis was told to "rebuild the church". At first Frances took this directive literally by rebuilding an old church badly needing repairs. Later, as Francis grew in his spiritual awareness, he began to stand as a presence for change in the institution of the church.

Today was full of sensory delights. I pondered what is my call "to build the church?" What does that mean for modern day Pilgrims like you and me? Is there a church to rebuild, or is it time to create another way? Is it about finding the commonality that draws groups together rather than focusing on our differences. Is it about the people embracing new ways of being, deeper ways of being in relationship with the Holy? Is it about rethinking very fundamental concepts, such as: where is heaven? So much inside of me shifted when I realized that heaven isn't far away up there somewhere. When I began to understand that Heaven is right here, I realized a new appreciation for Earth, her sacredness and my responsibility to defend and protect her.

What about you? What are you called to? Or what call are you running away from?

I have learned that every challenge is an invitation to a new adventure.

Come on. Live it up. Take a risk. You only have this moment. Right now.

Pastor Carol

Pilgrimage of Unfinished Business

St. Francis healing a cow

Today I am flying to Rome and then on to Assisi, Italy to begin my Pilgrimage of Unfinished Business. This morning I exercised at the Recreation Center. I spoke with Max, one of my unlikely friends. Each of us approaches the Divine from diverse viewpoints. We care about each other. We respect each other’s way of seeing. I enjoy talking with Max and I value his clear thinking. I asked him if he had ever experienced moving ahead with a major project only to find out when he was close to finishing, why he was doing it? He affirmed that he too had experienced the same phenomenon: Being led or encouraged by a series of happenings until the essence of the whole could be realized, however, not yet understood.

That is exactly what has happened and continues to unfold for me. Today I will be leaving from Cleveland Hopkins International Airport on route to Rome, where I am scheduled to meet up with a group of Pilgrims from around the United States and one from England. I have been preparing for over a month for this rather unexpected Pilgrimage. It was then that I first received an email announcement from Shalem Institute advertising a pilgrimage to Assisi, Italy. I had traveled with them about three years ago to Iona, Scotland on spiritual pilgrimage and found it a very clear, deepening spiritual experience.

There is a fundamental difference between travelling as a tourist and travelling as a pilgrim. I have done both and I no longer enjoy being the tourist. During Spring Break this year, I took the family on a children’s vacation. 

A couple of months ago in a conversation with my 12-year-old great niece, I offered to take her anywhere in the world that she wanted to go for her 16th birthday. 

When she heard that, she lit up. “Anywhere?’ she asked. 

“Yep, anywhere.” I answered. 

Excitedly she asked, “Could we go to Africa?” 

“Sure, we can. I’ve been there. It’s beautiful and I would love to take you.” I answered.

Then there was an uncomfortable expectant pause, and she asked, “Do we have to fly in an airplane to go to Africa?” 

I said, “Unless you want to swim, and it’s pretty far for that.” 

“Then” she said,” I don’t want to go there.” 

“Why not?” I asked. 

“Cause, I’m afraid to fly,” she said emphatically. 

“Have you ever flown before?” I queried.

“No.” she said quietly.

“Then how do you know you are afraid to fly? I love to fly,” I pushed.

That was the moment I decided it was time to take the children and mom and dad for a family vacation that would teach them all something about travelling. I wanted to be sure they learned their way around airports, had the experience of taking off and landing. Staying in a place far from home. Seeing the Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon. Walking the Sky Walk. Seeing the Ravens and Eagles in flight below us because we were so high at the rim of the Canyon. The trip was a huge success. We achieved the planned agenda and the ultimate purpose of actual experience to counter imagined fears. Now when we talk about going somewhere, they want to know if we can fly.

The nature of the trip was that of tourists. I enjoyed being with the family. I did not enjoy the role of tourist. When I went to the Grand Canyon, the experience pulled at my pilgrim heartstrings and I wished that I could send the family home and remain with the spirits of the Mountains and the Canyon for a time of prayer and inner experience. I wanted to let my spirit soar with the Ravens and to have conversations with the Spirit of the Raven. I wanted to hike down into the canyon, to find a quiet cabin where I could disappear into the spirit of this sacred place for a while. That’s the essential difference for me, I go to experience the spiritual gifts that present themselves in different places around the world, including my own backyard. I pilgrim to be and become not to do or to shop.

Assisi has been on my radar for years. I wanted to visit because Saint Francis is not only the Saint that Pope Francis chose to emulate but also my mother and husband were named after Saint Francis of Assisi. Every year at the Feast Day of Saint Francis which is celebrated October 4th, we would remember this Saint who spoke to the animals and preached to the birds by inviting folks to bring their animals to the church for hands on blessings.

When I pastored a church in Michigan, one of the members was a Veterinarian. She knew that the blessing of the animals was fast approaching on October 4th. and mentioned her dilemma, “I don’t know who to bring, I have thirty-four animals at home.” I encouraged her to select those that she felt most drawn to bring. In addition to the animals that she brought I suggested that she bring pictures or personal toys to represent the other animals. That was the last we spoke of the event. On Sunday morning nearest October 4th, we were gathering for the Blessing of the Animals, someone nervously said, “Did you see what Doc brought?” 

“No,” I responded, “I haven’t seen the animals yet.” 

She concluded, “You are in for a surprise.”

I entered the gathering space crowded with every kind of pet you can imagine. Then I saw Doc. She was taking her RAT from its cage. She placed it free and loose on her shoulder and kissed it! It was the biggest rat I had ever seen. My mind stopped when I realized that I was going to have to hold that rat!

Not being a little distracted, I instructed the church members to write the name of their animal guest on a name tag that each human owner would wear. Then as we began our time of prayer, I asked them to take a few minutes of quiet to ponder what blessing, healing, prayer would their pet request today. Then came the moment of reckoning. Each one brought their beloved pet forward for a blessing. I held each one and prayed aloud naming each of them and asking their human for their request. When Doc came forward with the rat that had been perched on her shoulder during the service, she held him in her arms like a baby. He was very healthy and I could tell well fed. 

I looked her in the eye and simply asked, ”Is he going to bite me?” 

“No” she replied. 

Then I asked what prayer her pet was seeking and she said, ”That I not be so misunderstood!” 

At that I reached out my arms to embrace and bless him.

I wondered if Saint Francis also talked to rats and other animals that we don’t easily think of as cuddly pets. There is a legend about his intervention with a Wolf who was killing sheep and perhaps also had attached some children. Francis went out to meet the Wolf to talk with him. During their talk, Francis learned that the Wolf was hungry. Francis got the Wolf to agree that he wouldn’t attack any longer if the towns people would provide him with food to still his hunger.

Saint Francis of Assisi is also the Saint that I think of when I think of the Cosmos and when I think of our Earth Mother and the damage that humanity has caused to our precious Mother, whom we depend upon for sustenance, water, life. If Francis were here today, I’m certain he would be at the forefront of saving the waters, the animals, the polar ice, the air, and more. Yes, this pilgrimage to Assisi has been long in becoming a reality.

MEDITATION on CHILI

As the Dream Circle of HeartSpace, a ministry of 89 Hartford UCC, met to discuss the screening of the film, The Unruly Mystic: Saint Hildegard of Bingen, which will be shown at Hickory Ridge Cinemas in Brunswick on March 8 at 7:00 p.m., Pastor Carol prepared a Chili lunch for the group and discovered that the preparation was in fact a prayer and meditation, see below:

Meditation on Chili:  Seeking a Savory Sensation

Ingredients:  Ground Meat, Chili Powder, Diced Tomato, Tomato Paste, Browned Onion, Kidney Beans Light and Dark

When we are children we are like the individual ingredients:  unique to itself.  Self centered.  Living in our little child world of ME.

As Adolescence and Young Adults the main ingredient of who we are is thrown together to become something else.  At school we begin to learn in a new way what it means to share and mix with seasonings that we might not like, e.i. chili powder, only to discover that seasonings that may be hard to take at first, help us in our discovery and our becoming.

Maturity is found in the big mix as we step up into community in a committed way.  We begin to realize that being  cooked together, taking the heat together, producing the heat together, ripening together  is essential to our maturation.

Elderhood is the final stage of maturity.  Left in the refrigerator for a day or two – a time for the richness and the wisdom to fill the finished product.  When we open to this place - we are wizened and have the richest gifts for our community, our family, our world.

Carol P Vaccariello
Pastor for 89Hartford UCC
snowswan12@gmail.com
Inspirational Speaker/Storyteller and Spiritual Coach 
Erie Benedictine Oblate