fear and hope…

I’m convinced that, for me, being an introvert is not a function of having low self esteem. I actually think highly of myself…perhaps a little too highly based upon some recent prayer revelation, actually. Being an introvert is a function of understanding most things that appear ordinary and routine as having some deep mystery and then making room for that mystery in my opinion. This brings me to some thoughts I had…

winter people….

Every picture of the saints shows grief. Some may read the looks on their faces as anger or seriousness…I see sadness everywhere I look. I see grief. I see the deep grief of the world on their shoulders. I don’t only see it, I recognize it in me. It reaches out of the icons and into me, hands pulling hard on my heart. I can feel this, visceral and vibrant. I worry…

all Greek…

If it’s not bad enough that everything is new in this ancient tradition it’s also in a language I don’t know. There’s an app for that. I downloaded it. What I’d really like is a babblefish in my ear. (google: hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, babblefish) I actually downloaded three apps. One I paid for, two were free. Some of the phrases in one of the “free” apps was “I’ve been watching…

shame…

Every so often I google my name and that of “doxasoma” in an effort to keep track of things on the internets. While doing this I ran across a very old entry on someone’s forum about DoxaSoma which basically said I was going to hell. It was a very strict group of christians who were discussing yoga. There were several fearful, accusatory, judgmental posts about “christian yoga” and then a pasting of…

hubris…

It was probably the icon of Christ speaking loudest. As I looked at Him this weekend in the sanctuary of the church this word came to me. I may have asked, without realizing, why I’m so angry or perhaps when I walked in He could see it, as though I was wearing it for clothing. It’s not a soft wool sweater, my anger, it’s a red metal suit of armor, I have…

family: mother…

It’s a little embarrassing that I’m giddy about having ordered some icons. I feel as though I’m waiting for family to arrive from out of town. I’ll tell you that I ordered them from a bookshop I like a whole lot called Eighth Day Books because I’m all about supporting the independent spirit. The hard part is waiting. I’m so conditioned by my internet amazon.com addicition and big box store mentality that…

joy…

Joy comes in the morning, sometimes… I woke up in an oddly good mood. I don’t think it’s the addition of a new coffee maker but I won’t rule out that possibility.  It may be that I was up late last night. I sat in the quiet long after the kids were asleep and listened to the wind blowing. Dave is out of town this week. I miss him when he’s gone.…