something pinches inside
hot tears tear
what is it
God
i am lost
something eases inside
calm overtakes
it is you
God
i am found
New
becomes old
Obsession
fades away
Everything
dust crumbles
Only
you remain
only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only you only
i shrink into the middle ground
trapped on one side
penned on the other
light mixes with the darkness in my eyes
still blind i fall into the silk-soft trap
of my own filth
it brushes against my skin
rushing up my nostrils
saturating my lungs
i suffocate
without you
God
life stirs again
you find me and i grasp
weak
cling tight
i let go
let go of your love
and death devours me
until i open to you again
God
see your face blur in the distance
you aren't blurred
i am
you are here
i forget to close my eyes
to see you are close
closer than my sight
my breath
my heart
you are life
no one dies in you
God
When Fr. Joseph Honeycutt spoke at the Winter Youth Retreat a couple of years back, he talked about how, when he was working on his doctorate. He told one bishop about his idea and what he was trying to show about it in his Thesis. The bishop - who was not very fluent in speaking English - replied: "The wedding was good; the marriage is bad."
This came to mind on Wednesday after I spoke with my drawing professor about class. I told him I felt like my conceptual abilities were ZIP!!
We got on to talking about how I'm an English Major, Art Minor. I told him I felt like my "writing self" was tugging me in one direction and my "art self" was tugging me in another. If I focus on my writing, I feel like I'm sacrificing my art, and if I pay attention to my art, my writing suffers.
"Your first mistake was separating those two," my drawing professor said.
It was a definite light bulb moment.
I need to use my strengths to work together instead of setting them against each other. It made sense (yes, I can be very dense sometimes). Still, I had no idea what to do.
I made my way to the computer lab, to the tower for lunch, pondering.
Finally, I realized: I need to get married!! XD
My "writing self" and "art self" have only really flirted with each other. And, they've mostly been separated. But now, I discovered, it's time to go down for the long haul.
This morning was unusual. The cloud cover was dense and it was grey and windy. Squeezed close. Not cold, but not hot, either.
There's a sort of death, walking through the world, not noticing. The rhythm, the wind's dance, the trees as they grow, paying head only to the sun's warmth.
It's so easy to forget.
On Sunday, she stood on the patio, alone, and watched the sun gently touch the Wild Olive's leaves, fanned wide. Open, ready, waiting. Expectant.
"The Beholder," that's what some crazy chick with a blog calls herself.
She used to notice.
On this dark morning, she woke up.
What apathy has infected her? Has infected the world?
"Follower of Christ" and "Light Bearer" that's what her name means.
It means when the morning is darkest, she should still see the light.
Although I've had this blog sometime, I've only had my posts viewable to a few of my closest family and friends, which means I haven't been getting a whole lot of readers lately. Seeing as I'm a writer, I enjoy when there's an actual audience for my writing.
So, the thought occurred to me that I could possibly get more viewers if I 1) make my posts viewable to the public, and 2) post the links on my facebook so that people who I actually know will see them!! :D
I know, I'm a GENIUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ^.^
Joel, Tessi & Mara's Nativity Season Visit.
To view a photo collection from the weekend’s events, see: http://www.flickr.com/photos/8135007@N03/collections/72157612808480334/
Mexican Exarchate elevated to Diocese
Submitted by Fr. Antonio Perdomo,
Rector of St. George Orthodox Church, Pharr, Texas.
“And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” ~ Matthew 28:18-20
[Pharr] On Sunday, January 18, 2009, it was apparent that the Holy Spirit gathered Christ’s Church together in Mexico City for a significant event. Metropolitan Jonah, most Hierarchs from the Holy Synod of Bishops, clergy, monastics and a multitude of the faithful from throughout Mexico, the United States and Canada gathered at La Catedral de la Asención de Nuestro Señor. Hundreds witnessed the blessed occasion of the Auxiliary Bishop of Mexico’s elevation to Ruling Bishop and the Exarchate of Mexico into a full Diocese of the Orthodox Church in America. The celebration of this momentous event found Bishop Alejo [Pacheco-Vera], surrounded by several of the founding Clergy of the Orthodox Church in Mexico, including Priest Ramon Merlos and Priest José Raul Valencia, as well as long-time Exarchate of Mexico Hierarch, Archbishop Dmitri. All present rejoiced at participating in this long awaited and critical next step towards bringing the fullness of the Church into the culture of Latin America. Native Mexican Priest, Ramon Merlos, Rector of Our Lady of Kazan Russian Orthodox Church in San Diego, California said, “This was a very historical event for Mexico. For the first time ever, we had six guest Bishops plus the Metropolitan, come here to support and pray with us as the holy Orthodox Church in Mexico. The people present had a deeply spiritual experience.”
In Spanish, Metropolitan Jonah shared how awesome it is to at last elevate the Church in Mexico from Exarchate to Diocese of the OCA, and to fully equip the Church there to accomplish the task Christ has set before it. At the end of the installment services, each visiting Bishop in turn offered their wishes and congratulations for Bishop Alejo and the new Diocese of Mexico. Archbishop Seraphim of Ottawa and Canada stated that the Church in North America is like a sandwich, with Canada and Mexico being the bread and the USA being the nourishing filling. The Metropolitan added that now there exists the Orthodox Church in Mexico, in America and in Canada, and that between all of these is an indivisible unity of mutual love and purpose.
Among the many apparent things during this weekend was the grace of the Holy Spirit and how the gospel of Christ is being shared with the indigenous people of that land. With the foundation now laid, the fields are ready for harvest. The Diocese of Mexico currently contains nine churches and missions, including the Cathedral of the Ascension in Mexico City, and several thousand faithful. What is needed indeed is for all of us to pray the Lord of the harvest to prepare and send workers to this field.
Mexican seminarian from St. Tikhon’s Seminary in Pennsylvania, Sub Deacon Abraham Labrada said, “It is good to experience, participate in and help build the Orthodox Church in Mexico as it now enters into this new chapter of its story.” Guests from the St. Tikhon’s Seminary Mission Choir sang during Saturday evening’s Vespers service. The Mission Choir joined the Cathedral Choir and guests from St. George Orthodox Church Choir in Pharr, Texas during the Hierarchical Divine Liturgy and Enthronement. The beauty of Christ and His Church were tangibly reflected in the liturgical services of the weekend. Everyone present acclaimed that the Orthodox Church is alive and active in Mexico. “It was a wonderful and awe-inspiring weekend. We were very blessed to be here,” said guest choir director, Analucia Perdomo of St. George’s Orthodox Church in Pharr, Texas. The University of Texas Pan American student continued, “Through our many visits over the past several years, we’ve been blessed to see the Mexican Exarchate grow, become a Diocese and now come into its own. It is great to, in some small way, have been part of it all.”
Besides Metropolitan Jonah and Bishop Alejo of Mexico, other hierarchs in attendance at this notable event included Archbishop Dmitri of Dallas and the South, Archbishop Nathanial of the Romanian Diocese, Archbishop Seraphim of Ottawa and Canada, Bishop Benjamin of the West and Bishop Tikhon of Eastern Pennsylvania. Clergy attending included Priest Ernesto Rios, Priest Ramon Merlos, Priest Dennis Pihach, Priest José Raul Valencia-Salinas, Igumen Nazario Ipac-Uribe, Priest Jorge Barrera-Zermeno, Priest Antonio Perdomo, Priest José Luis Serna-Estrada, Hieromonk Victorin Torres-Martinez and Hieromonk Serafin Mendoza Segundo. A number of deacons, sub-deacons and monastics were also present for the weekend.
The intent of the first Orthodox missionaries who came to Alaska was to share the good news of the gospel and evangelize the natives of North America. Evangelization has been a continual theme handed down to all Orthodox Christians from apostolic times to this day. This continued commission was most recently witnessed by many as we gathered in Mexico City for the installation of Bishop Alejo as the Bishop of Mexico City and Mexico. A giant step forward occurred as the Orthodox Church in Mexico was brought into a fullness which now allows it to fulfill the commission of our Lord, and therefore manifest the grace of God and the fruit of the Holy Spirit. Edinburg, Texas university student, Cristina Perdomo added, “The weekend in Mexico was deeply moving. It was filled with the grace of the holy spirit as well as the undying communion of the entire church, as Mexico was elevated to become its own Diocese.”
It is feasible that many might be surprised by the previous statement. Often, when the subject of Orthodoxy in Mexico comes up, the question most often asked is if the Orthodox Church even exists in Mexico. It does and has for nearly 45 years. In 1965, Bishop José [Cortes - Olmos], and his clergy contacted the rector of St. Seraphim's Church in Dallas, Texas, Father Dmitri [Royster], now the Archbishop of Dallas and the South. Archbishop Dmitri, instrumental in converting many Mexicans to Orthodoxy, translated many Orthodox liturgical services into Spanish. Archbishop Dmitri presented the case of the Orthodox Church in Mexico to the hierarchy of the OCA. After a number of exchanges and informal visits, the Holy Synod officially sent Archbishop Dmitri to visit Mexico and to report on his findings. That report, studied by the OCA's Department of Canonical Affairs, recommended the acceptance of the Mexican communities into the Orthodox Church in America.
In 1971, Bishop José petitioned for the acceptance of the Church into the Orthodox Church in America. He and other priests of his community were received in their Roman Catholic rank of priest. Prior to his consecration as Bishop of Mexico City, Father José studied at St. Vladimir's Seminary. He was consecrated at the Holy Virgin Protection Cathedral in New York City on April 22, 1972.
On January 28, 1983, Bishop José fell asleep in the Lord after a relatively short bout with cancer. His Beatitude, Metropolitan Ireney, presided at the funeral service in Mexico City on February 1, 1983. It was not until 2005 that a successor to Bishop José was found. On May 28 of that year, at St. Tikhon's Orthodox Monastery in South Canaan, Pennsylvania, Archimandrite Antonio Alejo [Pacheco-Vera] was consecrated as Bishop Alejo, the Auxiliary Bishop of Mexico City within the Exarchate of Mexico. As of this past weekend, both Bishop Alejo and the Diocese of Mexico have been elevated, to the Glory of Christ and His Church.
It is my hope that in the future, questions will not be asked about if there is an Orthodox Church in Mexico, but rather, how we can help support its work. Now, more than ever, the entire Orthodox Church in America can become aware that throughout Mexico and Latin America, there exists an alive and active Orthodox Church made up of our brothers and sisters in Christ. The Diocese of Mexico is part of us; part of our body; the body of Christ. It is a part of us which we can all share in and support through our ongoing prayers and ministry efforts. Truly, the historic event witnessed by hundreds gives us the hope that the gospel will take hold and bring forth much fruit in Latin America. If you or your parish would like to learn more about or assist in supporting missionary efforts in Mexico and Latin America, please feel free to contact Father Antonio Perdomo at 956-781-2388 or 781-6114 or by email at padreantoniop@aol.com.
To view a photo collection from the weekend’s events, see: http://www.flickr.com/photos/8135007@N03/collections/72157612808480334/
The newest youtube video is up! Well, it actually has been for a while, but I just wanted to put it on here! :D
And the bloopers! Actually, they are longer than the video itself, but they are hilarious!!!!! Watch watch! Oooh, I just reminded myself of Southwatch..... Sorry, nevermind....
Chapter I
The sun began it's
formidable way down the sky so laboriously, the Watchmen at the gate
began to wonder if a spell had been put on it to keep it from reaching
the horizon. They all were tired of standing in the winter chill all
day, and they wanted more than anything to return to there families and
warm homes. Just as the sun stooped kissed the horizon and the Night
Watchmen were about to take there place, the sound of hoof beats
reached General Forman's ears, making him pause in puzzlement. No one
was on the roads this late, the Makesh made sure of that. The Makesh,
meaning Wanderer in the tongue of the Bards of old, were a group of
thieves that roamed the Marshaw, literally meaning My Woods. They
appeared kind and well dressed, but they would kill a man in his sleep
if they found that he had something of value on his person. Oh yes,
General Forman knew them well, especially their leader, Viorri. She had
taken quite a fancy to him, yet they butt heads almost constantly.
As the steady pounding of
hooves on the compact ground became louder, two horses rounded the bend
in the forest road. One appeared riderless, but the other was carrying
two people. One, a woman, was sprawled over the horse's neck and the
second, a man, was urging the horse to go faster, yet making sure the
woman didn't slip off. The woman was definitely unconscious.
Arriving at the gate, the man slipped off, staggering when his feet
touched the ground. He stumbled over to the nearest officer and
stammered, "She needs a healer, fast," and collapsed.
"She needs a healer!" the soldier called to Forman.
"Well, then get one!" he shouted back, and hurried to the side of
the woman who was slowly slipping off the horse. Catching her right as
she tumbled off, he saw the broken the broken shaft of an arrow in her
shoulder. "And make it quick!" he called back to the guard who was
retreating to the castle.
"You," Forman pointed to the nearest guard and gestured to the
fallen man, "pick him up, and bring him to the nearest house. You," he
said, pointing to another, "Take these horse to the stables." He looked
down at the woman in his arms. Then he realized that she barely was a
woman at all, she could hardly be older than sixteen! He followed the
guard holding the man to an old weaver's house, still studying the
girl. Her face was a little small, and slightly angular, her features
were soft, yet beautiful, and her light brown hair probably fell to her
waist while she was standing. She had a small frame, and weighed almost
nothing in his arms. His study was abruptly interrupted as she began to
thrash violently.
"Run!" she cried, "Under the library! Ariella!" She continued to
flail until she gasped as if she hadn't been breathing and opened her
eyes. Her strikingly blue eyes looked about wildly, fever clouding her
vision and thought. Finally, her eyes closed and she went limp in
General Forman's arms once more. Forman stood rooted to the spot,
completely bewildered by what had happened. He began walking again,
having stopped to keep hold of her, soon coming to the weaver's house,
and stepped inside after one of his officers. An old woman appeared out
of one of the two doors, looking surprised, and slightly wary.
"Wha' are yeh doin' here?" she demanded, after recognizing the
green trimmed gray cloaks of the Watchmen, "This is a private home, yeh
can' jus' barge in."
"They're injured," Forman said, quickly, nodding to the girl in his
arms, and to the man, in the others, "They need a place to stay until a
healer arrives, which should be soon. Do you have any beds?"
The weaver eyed the two guards, then the girl and the man warily.
After a moment or two, she seemed to make some sort of the decision,
and led them through the other door from whence she came. Inside was
furnished with a bed and a night table, on which stood a candle. The
bedding was excellently made, even to Forman's untrained eyes, as was
the rug in the middle of the floor, even if they were worn with age and
use. He laid the girl on the bed, careful not to let what remained of
the arrow in her shoulder to touch the bed.
"Who are they?" the weaver asked.
"I don't know," Forman answered.
The weaver darkened with anger. "An' you espec' me to keep 'um in my house?" she roared, "They could be murderers!"
Forman sighed. He had been expecting this.
"Look at her," he said, "She can't be more than sixteen."
"Well, wha' abou' him?" the weaver asked, motioning to the man in the corner, "he could be a kidnapper and she his victim."
"If you don't want to be here I'm sure that a room up at the castle will be available for you." Forman answered.
The old woman's face hardened. "Yeh think I'm gonna leave this
place and le' these two steal everthin' I got? No, sirree, I am stayin'
righ' here where I can keep an eye on em'."
Forman smiled. This woman reminded him of his mother.
"Wha'?" she demanded, "Yeh think tha's funny?"
"No," he responded, quickly sobering his face, "Of course not."
The woman eyed him, then turned around and left the room. Forman smiled once, then turned and followed her out of the room.
* * *
Markan ran through the tunnel under Forlan, saddened that they were
empty. The teachers were having trouble getting the students under the
school for safety. He came to a fork in the tunnel, and turned right
without even hesitating. He knew that turning left would lead him to a
natural cave that eventually led to the forest of Marshaw. He ran past
countless tunnels, first turning right, then continuing straight, then
turning right again, until he finally reached the one he was looking
for. Racing up the narrow stair, he heard the crash of doors being
forced open, then terrified screams as the marauders broke into rooms.
Some yells for help were abruptly cut short. Markan ran even faster.
Reaching the corridor of the girls dormitory, he sprinted the way he
knew by heart to the door with a small bunch of flowers nailed to the
top of the door. Markan smiled despite the present circumstances. Larna
had always like flowers. He briskly pushed open the door and entered.
Larna was on the other side of her room, hastily packing a small
leather bag. Hearing the door open, she swiftly turned around, a dagger
in her hand. Recognizing his face, she reached behind her, and grabbed
her bag. She then ran to her desk, grabbed a small book, and followed
Markan out of the door. The screams were getting closer. Markan ran
back the way he came coming to a dead end. Putting his shoulder to what
looked like an unyielding wall, he began to push. It didn't move at
first, and Markan began to fear that it had been sealed shut, but then
it swung backward on carefully oiled hinges. Markan ducked in, and they
quickly ran through the tunnels. A ramp led them up to a grove of trees
behind the stables. Smoke choked the air, and the frightened whinnies
of horses reached Markan's and Larna's ears. They ran into the burning
stable, nearly blinded by the smoke. Larna immediately ran back of the
stable where the jet black horse Andris pawed the ground, his ears
plastered to the back of his neck in fear. The straw covered ground was
quickly catching on fire. They had to hurry. Markan quickly opened all
of the stalls he passed, freeing the captive horses. Horses bolted past
him, crazed with terror. Markan came to a stall containing rearing roan
mare.
"Woah, girl!" he said as she reared and nearly kicked him in the
face. Grabbing the saddle and the bridle, Markan opened the stall door
and led the terrified beast out of the burning barn and into the cool
of the night. Larna led Andris after them, opening all of the remaining
stall doors. Just as Larna got out of the inferno, a creaking noise was
heard, and with a terrible crash, the stable collapsed in a burning
heap. Markan and Larna hastily saddled their mounts, wishing to be as
far way from this nightmare as soon as possible. Markan began to wonder
where the raiders were. Surely they should be there by now. Just as he
thought that, he heard of the cries of whom he was thinking. They had
found them at last.
"Hurry!" he cried to Larna, who was struggling to put the bridle in
Andris's mouth. When the task was completed, she swung gracefully into
the saddle. Raising her hand to her mouth, she whistled a sharp, shrill
note that was quickly answered by the pure call of a bird. The bird
itself flew from over the wall beside the pile of smoldering wood that
was the stable, and swooped down to land on Larna's shoulder. Markan
mounted Yiva and directed Larna out of the northern gates to a grove of
trees where one of the only horse-accessible entrance to the tunnels
was well concealed. Markan could have continued out of the school and
gone north, but he had the feeling that
they wouldn't make it very far. They spurred their horses into a canter
and descended into the murky blackness of the tunnels once more. The
sound of the horses hooves echoed through the rocky halls and gave the
illusion that the number of horses was ten fold. Kian gave a squawk of
discomfort as the path began to narrow.
"We'll be out of here soon!" Larna said to him. Just as they were
rounding a corner, they came to a fork in the tunnel. A piercing scream
was heard, and Larna reigned in her horse.
"Ariella!" she cried, and dismounted.
"Larna! No!" Markan called after her as she ran up the narrow
stairs nearby and pushed open the door concealed as the stone wall.
Dismounting himself, he ran after her.
"Ariella!" Larna cried again. Markan caught up, grabbed her arm,
and tried to pull her back. About ten yards in front of them Ariella
herself was running to the door of the library.
"Run!" Larna screamed, "Under the library!" A raider, garbed in
tattered, black cloak, appeared behind Ariella, a heavy mace in his
hand. Raising his deadly weapon, he began to strike. Just at that
moment, Ariella turned causing the metal-tipped club to glance off her
shoulder.
"Ariella!" Larna sobbed as her friend crumpled to the ground.
Struggling violently, she escaped Markan's grasp and tried to run to
her fallen friend. Kian, having jumped off Larna's shoulder during her
struggle, circled above, cawing helplessly. When Larna was just feet
away, a second raider appeared, this one carrying a bow.
"Larna!" Markan yelled, then cried in anguish as an arrow struck
her left shoulder. Drawing his sword, her ran forward, slaying both of
the raiders as her went. Sheathing it again, he scooped Larna up into
his arms, and ran back to the horses to the tunnels. Markan put Larna
on his horse, and mounted after her. He galloped through the torch-lit
corridors, Andris and Kian racing after him. He reached the fork that
lead to the natural caves and reigned in Yiva. After just a moment of
indecision, he turned left. He didn't want to go to Marnor, but he had
no choice. Larna needed a healer, and nothing was going to stop him
from finding one.
* * *
A crash of shattered pottery in the room adjacent caused
Markan to start from his sleep. He looked wildly about the room, his
mind still in the past where his dream left off. Somehow, they had made
through the forest surrounding Marnor without encountering any of the
Makesh, and made it to the city safely. If one could call racing horses
almost to death to save a wounded girl safe. Spotting Larna on the
other side of the room he relaxed slightly, but not completely. He
still didn't know where he was, he didn't even know if he was still in
Marnor or not. The sound of an angry woman yelling in a croaky voice
reached his ears. Were they even prisoners or not? It didn't seem so,
by the sound going on in the next room. But it did seem like Bafor to
imprison harmless travelers. Markan smiled. That is, if he was
considered harmless. A man shouting back sounded in the neighboring
room. By the tones of their voices, it sounded as though a man had
accidentally dropped some form of pottery, and an old woman was
reprimanding him because of it. That was probably the man trying to
defend himself. Markan smiled again. It didn't sound like he was
getting anywhere.
The old woman in question opened the door in a huff, carrying a
tray of tea and soup. The teacup, he noticed, was without its saucer.
She nearly dropped her burden when she saw that Markan was awake. She
quickly collected herself, and walked to the small table by the
bedside. Moving the lamp to the ground, she set the tray on the table,
and wheeled around to face Markan.
"There isn't anything here worth your taken'," she snapped
suddenly, "An' yeh would be wise teh steer clear of the other room, or
I'll personally take yeh up to cour'."
Markan, caught quite of guard by her sudden outburst, said nothing.
"An don' jus' sit ther' with tha' dumb look on yer face," she
continued, "I know wha' yer abou', and there ain't no way tha' yer
gonna walk off with any of my things." She turned around and stalked
out of the room.
"He's awake," he heard her say just before the door was completely closed.
Review!!! Please!!!! I desperately need a review! Well, not desperately, really, but I want one! :D
