Sacred AND Normal

Not long ago a good friend of mine finished her degree and earned certification as a clinical social worker. Liesl and I first met at a “sit” (Buddhist slang for a meditation session) and quickly became good friends on account common interests and shared life experiences. A few months ago over lunch, we had occasion to discuss with each other our encounters with the mentally ill, the elderly, and the dying — she on account of her clinical training and me on account of seminary training — and both of us lamented the fact that too often “ordinary” people exclude altogether the mentally ill, the handicapped, and the dying from the orbit of their lives, thus creating for themselves a reductive sense of what’s actually normal and common in life. Essentially, they restrict their experience of what it means to be human, thereby impoverishing both themselves and others.

Joan Halifax, a Zen Buddhist abbess and accomplished anthropologist known for her work among the Dogon people, talks about the need to both normalize and sacralize death. What does that mean? Essentially, it entails overcoming the taboo that fences off death from the realm of the normal, natural, healthy, and whole in our experience of what it is to be human. It means you and I have to stop running from death and stop banishing the dying from our midst. Now, none of that makes death less ugly, less painful, or less frightening. But it does make us strong enough to face the ugliness and pain and terror.

And when we discover that we are — each of us — bigger than our greatest fear, stronger than death itself, we can start to see something of the Divine in ourselves and in each other. We don’t need to become “supermen” or “wonderwomen”; we don’t need to stop feeling the hurt that comes with life; we can still tremble and weep when we need to. But we will endure by choosing to be truly human. For most people, this involves handing on life in the midst of what otherwise seems a pointless existence. Whether by making babies or by caring for those who cannot care for themselves, we declare that our Family is worthwhile and that we will not allow it to perish.

Family is the most common and normal phenomenon for us, yet few of us appreciate that it is also the source and origin of the sacred in our shared experience. As I have noted elsewhere, it’s entirely likely that other beings like us from distant places in the Universe will have an experience analogous to what we call Family and, surely, it will be as sacred to them as it is to us.

By rediscovering the sacrality of Family, we will be able to perceive the value of even the weakest, ugliest, and most unwanted of human beings. And when we can do that we will be ready to encounter Alien Beings who will, no doubt, see in each of us a beauty worth knowing, sharing, and safeguarding. (Why else would they bother with us?!)

They will be as astonished at us as we will be at them!

~BT Waldbillig
December 29, 2017

In Nativitate, vel Kalyāṇamitratā

He was a baby, He was a child,
so that you might be a perfect man;
He was wrapped in swaddling clothes,
that you might be loosed from the snares of death;
He was in a manger, so that you might be in the altar;
He on earth, that you might be in the stars.
He had no other place in the inn,
that you might have many mansions in the Heavens.
He, it says, being rich, became poor for your sakes,
that through His poverty you might be rich.
Therefore, His poverty is my inheritance,
and the Lord’s weakness is my virtue.
He chose to lack for Himself,
that He might abound for all.
~Ambrose of Milan, On the Nativity

Saint Ambrose of Milan  is considered one of the four Latin Fathers of the Church who are studied alongside the four Greek Fathers of the Church by nearly every  seminarian and divinity student, as well most serious Christian Biblical students. Milan has always been dear to me on account of my personal devotion to Cardinal Alfredo Ildefonso Schuster and Cardinal Giovanni Battista Montini. While Montini was the right-hand man of Pope Pius XII (and himself a future pope), Schuster nearly lost his red hat for refusing to humor Mussolini. I used to read Schuster’s commentaries on the liturgical year and it was Beato Schuster who convinced me that Mass and the Hours were not mere individualistic acts of personal piety, but something like the binary stars I’ve been reading about lately. (Regulus caught my attention last night, for some reason. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to write intelligently on topics like that!)

I was incredibly fortunate through the course of my seminary training and first years of priesthood to have role models, mentors, and friends who were more like Montini and Schuster than I was able to perceive at the time.  Perhaps already there are Millennial seminarians who look to Cardinals with names like Dolan and Harvey and Burke (to name just three of many) for inspiration and guidance. And when those Millennials are my age surely those men will live on in their hearts and minds, just as Schuster and Montini are alive in me.

I never had the chance to befriend Schuster or Montini but the generation of seminarians and young priests today are more fortunate. A budding theologian can not only contemplate the piercing insight of someone like Cardinal Christoph Schönborn but even take him out  to a pub for a bit of “theology on tap”. And a future diplomat can hang out with Cardinal Angelo Sodano and ask him what it was like to sit at the feet of the great Cardinal Agostino Casaroli who laid the groundwork for some of the most important geopolitical transformations of the final twenty years of the twentieth century.

The birth of Jesus was essentially an invitation to friendship with God and an opportunity to transcend a divide that seemed as impossible as a trip from Earth to Regulus. As Saint Athanasius described the Christmas mystery: God became man so that man might become [like unto] god (De incarnatione).

Today more than ever, the teaching of the Buddhist Master Sangharakshita finds purpose and urgency. The center of gravity for his entire corpus of spiritual teaching is basically this: The spiritual life is about friendship.

Kalyāṇamitratā
They come to us
To show us
What we will become
We go to them
To show them
What they are to us
For what we have received
Is not ours to destroy
It is ours, it is theirs
Without measure everywhere

THIS IS THE DAY
Of which they will say
The People of the Great Heart
Survived that day!

The waters above
Will find rest below
For ours is not the first
And theirs is not the last
Back and forth they pass
Beyond time yet in time
As the candle remains
While the light travels through

Therefore,
As a father scatters much seed
In the hope of even one son
And a woman bleeds monthly
For the sake of her only child
Let us become
Both father and child
Brother and son
Friend, mother, sister

TOGETHER

Let us create
From the place of Blood
A dwelling of the Spirit
For from both
All will arise
And become
And return
And go forth
Unto endless generations
For it is by living
That we best honor the dead
And by giving
That all will have

Where I have been
You too will go
For no one in the Family
Is ever left behind
Here, the just and the wicked
Have purpose and place
Both give their father joy
That when his days are over
Love will remain
Undying, Unconquered, Invincible
Just as Sol in our sky
Is source and power to us
So the many distant lights
In the night sky
Are as the same
To those we now encounter
One Sun
One Life
One Family
And when one light goes out
Another shall arise
As father gives way to son
And daughter becomes mother

This is the Family
And each of us
Must now become
Father and Mother
Brother and Daughter
Sister and Son
And even THE FRIEND

As THE FRIEND is to us
Let us be to one another

~BT Waldbillig
December 24, 2017


Expectatio Gentium

With Christmas barely a day away, I cannot help but recall the Gospel account of the birth of Jesus. Poor, weary, and compelled to travel far from home with his pregnant young wife, Joseph was surely wracked with anxiety, aware that just as life easily takes root, so also does it easily perish. The child about to be born had a most unusual origin and Joseph recognized in this the hand of God, a hidden spiritual agency in that most common of human acts, the transmission of life. Yet very few of their many neighbors, as well as those multitudes they encountered on their journey, perceived that this seemingly ordinary birth — which some likely regarded as a shameful occasion — would change human history and be celebrated for many thousands of years.

You needn’t be a Christian or a religious believer to understand that there are moments in life and moments in human history when everything changes…forever. Today, our world stands at the threshold of a new reality that will forever change us and give unexpected meaning to our very existence.

No longer content to passively wait around for beings like us from elsewhere in the Universe to make Contact, we have begun to recognize our own agency in the matter by sending out carefully crafted messages that indicate our desire to welcome others into our Family. Soon, we will also begin sending “seed packages” to planets and moons that may be hospitable to our kind of life. Indeed, it may well happen that the former — Contact — will lead to cooperative efforts for the latter — Seeding the Universe.

It is life itself that will bring together humans and other intelligent beings from elsewhere in the Universe. Our shared experience of the beauty, value, and precariousness of life will furnish us with that which has been lacking until now: a reason for Contact. Brought together by our celebration of life, we will be bound by a shared mission to ensure that life — which easily takes root yet also easily perishes — continues and flourishes.

In this our day, it seems to me, we can look to Christmas and find in past historical events — which for many of us bear the mark of divine agency and still today hold mystical significance — a truly cosmic reality with meaning for every human being.

~BT Waldbillig
December 23, 2017

Image of the Invisible

We do not begin as saints, not as already illuminated beings. We come, again and again, because we seek to become so.
~Rumi

Since Christmas is just a few days away, I’m re-posting something I wrote quite some time ago and posted to my blog about this time last year: A free-verse poem I call The Dream of Sol Invictus.

Many spiritual traditions celebrate some kind of winter festival of hope. Just when it seems that death will have the final word and darkness reign forever, the Sun returns and its life-giving light begins to fill the place of darkness. Soon, in the empty places hints of living things will give way to the flourishing of life.

Within a Family, no single individual lives forever, yet the Family continues to exist so long as its members choose to spread and safeguard the life they themselves inherited. The Family always has the power to triumph over death, darkness, and emptiness.

~BT Waldbillig
December 20, 2017



THE DREAM OF SOL INVICTUS

The innocent maiden and the wolf pup sat upon a hilltop
Rejoicing at their salvation from the pit

While the Forest Boy who commands Mighty Warriors
Danced and sang for the girl and the pup

“From the darkest place
Emerges the brightest light

The moment of despair
Engenders invincible hope

Neither fire nor ice
Neither water nor want

Neither stones from the sky
Nor the wiles of man on Earth

Will ever drive out
The roots of the Great Tree

In the place of the empty heart
The light of Sol Invictus will shine

You who feared not the darkness of the pit
Nor disdained the wickedness of men and wolves

Led them from the place of darkness
To the long-awaited kingdom of Light

Ha! Foolish men!
You thought the maiden innocent and helpless

Ha! Furious bull and raging stag!
You beheld the pup easy prey

The pup has pulled you from the pit
By the knot of hair on your head

The girl dragged you behind herself
By your horns and by your nostrils

Let us taunt them
Without mercy, without rest

Take from the shepherd his staff
Kill the fiercesome guard dog

Exterminate their fathers
Make of their sons beggars

Humiliate their women
Make of their daughters whores

What can the Forest Boy do
Before the Mighty God of War?

He laughs, he dances
He sings, he weeps

While the dead dog you offered as sacrifice
Rises from the ashes

Extinguishing the fire of war
Without even a fight”

And when the boy finished his dancing and singing
When the rivers of tears dried up

The light of Sol Invictus appeared
And the world became new again

Behold, People of War and Avenging Gods
Sol Invictus has made of you all

Peoples of the Great Heart

https://waldbillig.wordpress.com/2016/12/23/dream-of-sol-invictus/

Interstellar Postcards

I’m re-posting something from May 2016 since this evening I noticed above the Constellation of the Tauroctony a number of curious shapes, including an almost perfect equilateral triangle and a pentagon with an extra star that marked the midway point between two corners and formed a straight line parallel to the horizon.

Recalling that ancient travelers relied on star charts to guide their travels, I wondered how we might find our way through the Universe, when the relationships among stars vary according to one’s point of origin. While the three stars of Orion’s Belt (which is also the Blade of Mithras) appear to us in an imperfect straight line, that geometric pattern would not obtain in much, if not most, of the rest of the Universe.

However, stars have unique temperature and chemical signatures and we have, only recently, begun to develop technologies that more clearly detect and decode such information.

This means that Aliens might be able to give us their cosmic street address and vice versa. So, while repeating radio signals rightly capture our attention at the moment, perhaps one day soon we’ll be swapping addresses with new Friends. Or perhaps we’ll be sending interstellar postcards to Alien penpals who live in places where our radio signals can’t reach, just as your cellphone might have lousy signal reception depending on where you find yourself.

As we begin to seed the Universe, we will likely use information such as chemical and temperature signatures to direct our “seed packages”.

A Biblical passage comes to mind: “Where one man sows, another reaps.” We have no reason to expect to see the results of our “seeding” missions. We have to be honest with ourselves about that. This is why a CEO with a board of directors demanding optimized returns or a politician chasing votes for the next round of elections would never think to do something like this.

But a priest would — because a priest understands that a single act of love can change the Universe and accomplish wonders that once seemed impossible.

That’s why I look at this endeavor not as an investment that will bring us benefit or a labor for which we will receive recompense. Rather, I regard it as a sacred mission or a vocation. It’s something that, in itself, has value and meaning — no matter the cost, difficulty, or lack of quantifiable material self-benefit.

And who knows? As unlikely as it seems, maybe we who sow will somehow also partake of the harvest.

~BT Waldbillig
December 19, 2017


DOG LESSONS

There is scarce a moment in the day when Dante and I are separated. Luckily, we get on rather well and enjoy each other’s company! There’s just one thing: Dante is not an average dog. Most humans regard themselves as more intelligent and evolved than dogs, but with Dante and me it’s quite the opposite. While I have several academic degrees and he has none, when we communicate with each other he is always the teacher.

Why, just last night as we strolled across the great lawn in Highbridge Park, he gave me lessons in geometry and astronomy. He used the various formations of stars in the night sky to teach me the differences among shapes like an isosceles trapezoid, a pentagon, and a triangle. He went on at length about pulsars and magnetars, and though I didn’t understand much of what he was saying, I listened and nodded politely.

Next, he spoke of geology, going on about the layers of the Earth, particularly its outer core, and the Earth’s atmosphere.

Then, he gave me lessons in biology and botany. He said something about recombinant DNA. He also speculated about androids and cryogenic timers — but all I could think of was my favorite television program, Futurama. I really should pay better attention!

He saved the most important lesson for last. He told me that while all creatures suffer and all living things pass away, there is still much hope for our world.

That made me very happy!

[May 2016]

Toward a Liturgy of Encounter

About three years ago I began imagining how First Contact with Alien Beings might come about, what its implications might be, which conditions would best serve such a momentous historical occasion, and how all of us could achieve full and active participation in the event, spread as we are across the entire globe.

What I’ve arrived at today is an evolution of a few previous attempts, as well as the fruit of my own meditation and reflection, much of which I have shared publicly on my blog and via social media accounts such as Facebook and Google Plus.

Perhaps this brief ritual framework will become an occasion for you to think about how we, as the human Family, might show the Universe just how precious and beautiful we are to one another.

I have no doubt that Alien Friends/Visitors would be as amazed at us and we would be at them — just as my dog, Dante, looks to me as if I were something like a god or a mythic hero and I look to him in the same way.


Toward a Liturgy of Encounter
(for use at the occasion of First Contact)

Public Rite
1. Solemn Greeting
2. Litanies/Petitions (declaration of intention)
3. Reading/Lesson (e.g., “Compassion of the Tree”)
4. Exposition (explantion of event)

Rite of Transition
5. Announcement of Sacred Act (e.g., “The doors! The doors!” etc. from Byzantine liturgy)

Veiled/Hidden Rite (performed in private)
6. Sign of peace exchanged (e.g., among delegates)
7. Honoring of Ancestors (Commemoration of Departed Family members)
8. Ratification of Treaty

Rite of Revelation
9. Announcement and Public Presentation of Treaty
10. Transmission/Communication of Treaty to all relevant authorities

Rite of Consent and Missio
11. Reception and Acceptance of Treaty
12. Consent of the People (e.g., 8 minutes of bells, etc.)
13. Mission (commissioning of the Spritual Family)

Followed by regional and local rites, festivals, etc., as well as religious observations.

The guarantors of the treaty (e.g., the Sacred College of Cardinals) will be sent to every nation on Earth to present physical copies of treaty and relevant historical artifacts.

The same guarantors will provide the Alien Friends with personal and physical artifacts.

~BT Waldbillig
December 16, 2017

Christmas Crackers for Aliens

In just over a week or so, some two billion Christians — myself included — will celebrate the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, whom Christians honor as the long-awaited Anointed One (Messiah in Hebrew, Christ in Greek) and Muslims, following the teaching of the Prophet Muhammad recorded in the Holy Koran, honor as a great prophet and spiritual teacher.

However, in most modern, industrialized, wealthy Western countries, the Holy Day (holiday) has become a time of indulgence,  vanity, sentimentality, and commerce — missing the point of the coming of Jesus into this world.  Personally, I find all of this offensive to the point of blasphemy, a profanation of the second most important Christian liturgical feast. (The Sacred Triduum, which includes Easter Sunday, is the most important one, something akin to the High Holy Days of Christianity’s “elder brothers [siblings] in faith”, as Pope Saint John Paul II, inspired by the dogmatic and pastoral teachings of the Second Vatican Council, described the Jewish people.)

But you don’t have to be a pope or a cardinal or rosary-rattling nun to be disgusted at the vulgarity that now passes for Advent and Christmastide.

Still, we do well to recall that the birth of Jesus — a heirophany, in the words of Mircea Eliade, and the Divine Incarnation to Christians like me — probably seemed quite vulgar to the people among whom it happened physically and historically. After all, Jesus was poor, of seemingly questionable birth, and from a conquered people in an occupied land. Who on Earth would expect a heirophany in such circumstances? And what kind of God shits all over himself or bites his mother’s nipple even when she’s dry, as the divine-human infant Jesus did surely?

Christians theologians use the word kenosis (from ἐκένωσεν in Philippians 2:7) to describe the complete and utter lack of divine trappings that characterized the intersection of the divine and the human in the person of that helpless infant who would become one of the most important men in human history. To paraphrase Eliade,  it was an interruption of divine reality into the space of  human experience and it turned the world on its head.

To a spiritual theologian, it was the consecration of all human beings — but especially those who are overlooked, despised, ignored, weak, helpless, little regarded, unworthy, and unseemly — as holy and sacred to God; likewise with every aspect of life and human experience — including those regarded as ugly, meaningless, useless, vile, painful, and unwanted. Even realities from which (we’re convinced) God must surely be absent possess power to manifest to the world a God whose love is the supreme Good that can’t help but generate life, protect life, increase life, spread life.

Bonum est diffusivum sui, as my professors at the Angelicum repeated again and again, desperately hoping something would stick. It did.

To ancient Fathers of the Church, God became like us by means of Jesus so that we, in turn, might better reflect our divine origin. For a Christian believer like me, each and every human being has the same origin in God’s love. We belong to one family and, like the cranky, hungry infant feeding at the Virgin Mary’s breast, this family is not merely the reality of flesh and blood that we first perceive; rather, like the ‘divin Enfant’ (as one of my favorite Christmas hymns calls Jesus), this family is an easily overlooked but nonetheless real and true manifestation of the divine. That’s what I was referring to when I once spoke of teachers safeguarding their most important teachings by hiding them where no one would think to look.

To my estimation this is the meaning of Christmas — and even an Alien Being would understand how powerful, meaningful, useful, and beneficial these Christian religious beliefs and liturgical practices, which have been part of my life since infancy, can be. In all likelihood they would find in your sacred beliefs and spiritual practices much that is good, useful, and worthwhile even if they’ve never heard of the Prophet Muhammad or Shakyamuni Buddha. I’m quite sure they would perceive in a poor infant or a lame dog an empty place able to represent that which is infinite and spaciousness enough to become a home for the divine. That’s what I was trying to get at when I wrote somewhere about “the place of the empty heart”.

Self-emptying, that’s what kenosis means. Buddhists have a similar, and almost universally misunderstood, word: anatta, the Pali for “non-self” or “substanceless.

I can’t help but recall the famous story of Asanga and Maitreya in the Mahayana Buddhist tradition, in which a divine visitor is said to have manifested himself in the form of a lame, maggot-riddled dog — not exactly a seemly or decorous form for a divine being! According to the story, only Asanga perceived the Future Buddha Maitryea in the form of that one particular lame, maggot-riddled dog. Asanga even parades the Buddha-Dog around in a nearby town to see if anyone else can perceive in the dog  the heirophany that is absolutely apparent to him. Only Asanga got the message!

Such is the wisdom of the world — the powerful, rich, holy, and wise are always missing the point. But let’s not fool ourselves, most of the time people like you and me do, too. It happened in the past and it happens today.

Yet something from Eliade makes me question my condemnation of those many millions of people who celebrate Christmas according to those popular cultural practices that I went so far as to call blasphemy. (Technically and from a theological perspective, it’s quite difficult to commit blasphemy, strictly speaking. But that’s a matter for another day.)

In Chapter 2 of Sacred Space and Making the World Sacred, entitled Homogeneity of Space and Hierophany, Eliade makes this shocking declaration about humanity:

To whatever degree he may have desacralized the world, the man who has made his choice in favor of a profane life never succeeds in completely doing away with religious behavior.

To my mind, this might also apply to intelligent beings, whether biological or perhaps even technological, from distant places in the Universe. Somewhere I wrote, though rather inartfully, about religion as a sort of universal experience that might have cultic expression, as in the Christian liturgy, but might also continue to possess cultural significance long after the extinction of the original religion. That’s why even an Elf-on-the-Shelf doll or the sharing of Christmas crackers still has some vestigial, if seemingly tenuous, connection to the Christian religious celebration that meant so much to me first when I was a little boy whose grandmother doted on him a little too much and later as a seminarian surrounded by brothers who loved me just as I was, even though I was never quite satisfied with myself or my progress in the spiritual life.

As I mentioned somewhere, embedded within every major world religion and most so-called minor religions, whether still practiced or long extinct, are social and psychological mechanisms that give us a reason to go on living when life makes no sense or even seems useless. Our common experience of  impermanence and mortality is terrifying if we dare stop and contemplate it. I’m fond of quoting the American Lutheran-turned-Catholic theologian Richard John Neuhaus. Somewhere Father Neuhaus said:

We are born to die. Not that death is the purpose of our being born, but we are born toward death, and in each of our lives the work of dying is already underway. The work of dying well is, in largest part, the work of living well. (…) As children of a culture radically, even religiously, devoted to youth and health, many find it incomprehensible, indeed offensive, that the word “good” should in any way be associated with death. Death, it is thought, is an unmitigated evil, the very antithesis of all that is good. (First Things, February 2000)

Surely Alien Visitors would understand this and maybe even have an opinion on the matter, just like any one of us. Imagine that, talking theology with Aliens!

I was going to write more about Christmas, Islamophobia, the war in Syria, poverty, and Family, but maybe that’s something for you to think about, talk about, and write about.

After all, we’re in this together — and your experience is every bit as important as mine.

~BT Waldbillig
December 12, 2017

The Dream of the Visitation (re-posting)

This dream strikes me as useful and relevant even today, so I’m re-posting it here.


Let me share with you a dream I had not long ago:

As I gazed at the night sky, I beheld the constellation of the Tauroctany and marveled at the sight. When I turned my gaze below to survey my surroundings, I understood that I was all alone in a dense forest. All was still and no creature in the forest made a sound until, all of a sudden, I heard in the distance a number of voices chanting the Hymn. The familiar voices grew louder and louder until at last they were upon me and I beheld, with difficulty, the faces of the Friends I had seen many times before, though always with great difficulty that demanded an intensity of concentration that existed only at the very limits of my natural faculties.

The Friends announced to me that they were arriving in the very place where I found myself on that night. When I told them that I had already seen this encounter in my mind, the Friends marveled and declared to me that they possessed no power to see or perceive events they had not yet experienced. Then, we shared greetings and offered each other titles of honor and recognition. Once this was finished, I sat upon a faldstool and recited the words of a ritual to solemnize our encounter. After this, I attempted to offer formal words of explanation and encouragement, but my thoughts were too muddled by the overwhelming joy of the occasion. And so instead of a proper discourse, I simply chose to tell the Friends the story of my own life that led me to that place of encounter on that dark night in a dense forest. I made known to them that on many occasions I nearly gave up on myself and the world because I felt too small, insignificant, and weak. Their presence and kindness on that night made all the difficulties, doubts, and despair of my entire life seem as so much dust, for the promise made long ago was a promise fulfilled in that moment and a promise that would be defended and vouched safe unto endless aeons.

The Friends thanked me for my words and then revealed to me that they had been with me on many occasions from my childhood even unto manhood. (I could not understand if their presence on that night and in the past was a personal, physical presence or a spiritual, technological presence.)

As I prepared to wander through the forest back to my home where Dante the Little Man awaited me, I was told that a child wished to greet me. The child was shy and embarrassed — much as I was as a small child many years ago — and the leader of the embassy of Friends informed me that the child was an orphan and was dying of a terrible sickness for which there could be no cure or remedy. The child told me that she was afraid to die and asked me what awaited her after death. In that moment I began to sob, as I had no honest and useful thing to tell her and, naturally, I refused to lie or recite empty platitudes to this dying child, who at last approached me and embraced me in an effort to stop my tears.

It was a suffering and dying child who consoled me when I was overcome by sorrow and felt useless before the mystery of suffering and impermanence.

The leader of the Friends then revealed to me that just as my own world into which they had come was a place of war, aggression, violence, hatred, sickness, and death, so would there always be wars and dying children among every community of beings throughout the Universe. However, the Spiritual Family that came into existence at the occasion of Contact between Earth Humans and the Visitor Friends would become an invincible power scattered among the stars and stretching to every corner of the Universe. Those beings once known as the People of War and the Avenging Gods would become a Spiritual Family, known throughout the Universe as the People of the Great Heart. Though worlds and civilizations and stars might pass away, this Family would always endure.

I gave thanks for this teaching and the Friends departed.

~BT Waldbillig
September 26, 2017
via The Dream of the Visitation
– – – – –
~BT Waldbillig
December 13, 2017


[I often write about my dreams, but across the years I have come to understand that while I see everything from the point of view of the primary actor of the event, the dreams are rarely about me. While they’re always and only just dreams, I experience them as if they were visions appearing through a semi-transparent veil or through a glass darkly (to misuse St. Paul’s words). Sometimes the events seem historical, whether past or future, while at times are altogether beyond my experience that I can only describe them in mythic terms. The scholastic dictum comes to mind: Quidquid recipitur ad modum recipentis recipitur.]