Friar-dom?

Lynn said in a former life I was a monk. Or my Reiki guide is a monk. Without any prompting and before we broke, she said an image of a monk kept on coming to her. Earth mother said she thinking my special word for me was "Faith" before I said it to our reading group. During my drunken college days, I dressed up as a monk and woke up a with a 9 inch wooden cross (and aching jaw where someone I still don't know who hit me during a drunken Halloween stupor) I have still have priest outfit that I wore for last Halloween. 

 She said “45” kept her in head. Lynn was my Reiki Instructor. I think I understand the 45, but I will keep that one to myself. 

Won’t deny that I feel comfortable and at peace in church. I'll will admit that I felt a calling to the clergy. I'll admit there is book sitting next to me named “Everything Understanding Islam.” I'll admit that I made a promise one year to “Make My Soul Stronger.” Took a Philosophy as Religion and Bible at Literature class. I'll admit that there was a need to be Baptised again. I'll admit that Abbey in Valyermo felt like home. I'll admit that when Welford and Shazam balked about me being a priest that my natural instinct was to say, “No, you are wrong. Priestly vocation has been a part of me. This life or past life—it is part of who I am.”

Recently learned my Uncle Mike was accepted to a most prestigious seminary school in the Philippines. Learned one of my Fonacier relatives is a priest too. Maybe its in the blood. Whatever it is, I'll admit that I believe that I am a Man of Faith. What that Faith is, I’m still discovering.

My blog posts are of redemption and higher calling. It is about the heroic journey. Things are coming to clarity now. Still do not know where this journey leads, but here I be. Still not sure if this my life or my guide to do be and do, all I know is that I'm beginning to know. Still coming to grips with these messages.

This will be a short post. Sorry.

Have Faith.

"Its not that I don't know, its just I haven't learned yet"--Jed, Bartlet, West Wing

What I hope I will be in 30 minutes


Veins of Gold. Ray of Gold. "I am still learning--Michaelangelo."

These are the little snippets I have gotten from this new book I am beginning to read. Forty more pages and I should be caught up.

By coincidence, I met up with a reading group all femmes with artistic aspirations. Having lunch at Panera's and I couldn't help but listen to these women having "Discourse." Initially, I thought it was healing group. Kind of afraid to inquire because I got this feeling there was some anger issues. Male-bashing trauma. Reminded me a bit of Fight Club. No, not the UFC stuff. It was the weekly meetings, Ed Norton's character was attending to battle is insomnia. Testicular Cancer, Sickle-Cell Anemia, etc.

I felt like a Tourist. I had no intention of involving myself. I had no desire too, either. I was simply drawn at the battle of two personalities. I've seen it before, In group development. In all group development four stages must happen: Forming, Storming, Norming, and Performing. This was undoubtedly the storming/ forming stage. As an outside viewer, a tourist, I could not help but listen. I tried not to, I swear. Yet, I was drawn.

The group's discourse reminded me of the movies when people kiss. I always avert my eyes during the scenes of intimacy. A passionate, innocent kiss--I always avert my eyes. Its so intrusive. Its so intimate. Its so personal. Guess, during my Peer Counseling days, privacy was and still is of utmost importance. If I went, I would assume it would be like a confession. Baring one's soul to the world. I mean, being adept in sales, it has been my natural instinct to be able to cut through the Bull. Get Cliff Notes in snippets. Watching someones shoes, their gait, their outfit. Listening to the inflection. Watching the congruences, their tells, when they spoke. I was able to size up a situation and circumstance in an instant.

All of us do it all the time. Guess, I had good teachers to be listening with my eyes more often.

One of the ladies passed by on her way to the washroom, I asked innocently what the group was. I was right. It was a reading book group with a theme of self-help artist within-stuff. Well, I was invited to join and I accepted. One lady was a published author and I thought. Why not? If I have any aspirations of writing a book, well, okay. Jump.

One said I was a catalyst. Had to look that up to make sure that was a good thing. Its just I like to get things done. I don't want to be the alpha in this group. I am just going to flow. We naturally step into roles we feel most comfortable in. Mine has been toward leadership. Lately, I have been consciously not falling into this role. Don't get me wrong, but I think I am enjoying playing the devil's advocate. The road less traveled. I enjoy being the other voice. Yet, I will take a backseat approach and enjoy the ride

When the time calls, I'll be whatever needs to be done to reach where this journey needs us to go. For a long time, my question has been "If you were a fly on the wall, what wall would that be?" For me, it was answered in the movie Thirteen Days. During time of crisis, I felt that I would play a role. What role? Honestly, don't know. Thought I would be the decision maker. Thought I would the special assistant. Thought I would be the voice to call for war. Played this scenario so many times, . . .It was like playing chess. E4, E5, Kn F3. . .

Maybe these events will be a warm-up for something more. Posse is forming. Foreshadowing. Well, time is short. Must go on my mini-escape.

"Its not that I don't know, its just I haven't learned yet"--West Wing

Rites of Passage: Late Night Denny's

Late night Dennys. Its a rite of passage from high school to adulthood. After a night of debauchery, Moons over My Hammy or the Classic Burger are just must-haves. When body is intoxicated with alcohol or the rush of dancing all night, there is biological need to wind down and replay the events of a few hours.

Carlsbad Dennys is where I sit this 2:28 in the morning. Cousin Jason is sleeping in the car right now. He's wearing my sleep mask and bundled up in thin mini-blankets. I feel a little bad. I asked him if he wanted to go with me to Carlsbad for a short trip. He's going to run the 1/2 marathon. He's crazy.

Earlier we were at sushi bar watching waitresses stripper-pole and belly dancing. This was my debauchery for the night. Hanging out, snacking on Philadelphia rolls, and catching up with the female situation with cousin. This ritual of going out to a nice restaurant, then to a club, then to back to Dennys--Its an American Tradition.

The lady in front of me seems tired. She has her head leaning the window. She has the Bobble-Head disease. Symptoms: Eyes heavy, an occasional snore erupts, head falls forward and back. Bobble-head disease is a struggle. This battle against fatigue is a losing one. Too much to drink and not enough sleep, I guess.

I look to my left. A group of four talks about the events of the night. I hear ". . .schnapps, rum and coke, and grabbing my . . . " Laughter burst erupts from the table. Ah!!! the smell of Kaluha, Sex on the beach, and vomit. Yummy.

A scantily dressed lady saunters in. Ahhh, Tight skirt, black high heeled boots, and purple hair. You see all types, at midnight Denny's. Wait, that person has an extremely large adam's apple. Her adams apple seems extremely large. Her hands, too. I was wrong, not a lady. I have seen worse. I have seen better, too.

Table to the right. Hip hop dressed crowd. Two guys on the left, a bunch of Wiggas. Wanna-be, wait, that is not fair. I don't if they are compensating for the lack of African-American-ness or they just dress like because they lost a bet.

You may ask what does this have to do with Heroism. I don't know either. No, the Valkyries would bring the fallen heroes to the great hall. In the great hall, they would drink, debauch, and the die in the noble cause. To do it again, the next night, and next . . . until Ragnarok. It is a reminder that we are all human and we need a night out to just remember we are human. People need to play.

Well, a night of blogging looks complete. I need to wake in a couple of hours to volunteer at the marathon. Its just another midnight at Denny's.