PREGNANT WITH GRACE "...emblem of everything." "...amid the eternal ways,..." January 25, 2019

ALL IS WELL IN EACH
UNDYING
PREGNANT-WITH-GRACE
ETERNAL MOMENT
∞
CORE STILLNESS REIGNS
∞
ew
4:13 AM-1/25/19

 Earlier this morning...Prior to above Whisper at top of this page
here is what Happened:

So Inner Blank right now…will random pick a Whisper
*****
AH! that WHISPER Found us in the instant:
  Smiler Archetype
from
December 12, 2018

Here it is:
 
Truth is... it is ONLY Divine Grace that has kept me thru all this lifetime…
thinking that something of lies/deceit can tarnish the Grace InFlow/OutFlow
only causes my life to be a “lie” to the Strength of Grace…
 
THINKING THAT ANYONE/ANYTHING
OF LIES/DECEIT CAN TARNISH THE
GRACE INFLOW/OVERFLOW OF THIS LIFE
ONLY CAUSES THIS LIFE TO BE A LIE
TO THE POSSESSION OF GRACE*
ew
3:12 AM-12/12/18 
* the most ancient of man’s tempters and enemies:
the hater who deceived you with a smile and a joke and a promise.
Hostage to the Devil
-Malachi Martin
 https://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/vatican/esp_vatican27d.htm

​See Read More below Afternoon Photos
for remainder of the writing re:
The Smiler Archetype - Dec 12, 2018
also here:
https://dorotheamills.weebly.com/oceanspeak-youthanasia-sanctarii/enemy-of-grace-antidote-one-must-become-art-itself-most-ancient-of-mans-tempters-and-enemies-121218

, [I] go off to my woods, my ponds, my sun-filled harbor,
no more than a blue comma
on the map of the world but, to me,
the emblem of everything.
Excerpt from Long Life, a collection of essays
Remembering Mary Oliver's Queer Pagan Spirit
http://thewildreed.blogspot.com/2019/01/remembering-mary-olivers-queer-pagan.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheWildReed+%28The+Wild+Reed%29

​AFTERNOON

Waiting -
​ by John Burroughs

Serene, I fold my hands and wait, 
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; 
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, 
For lo! my own shall come to me.
I stay my haste, I make delays, 
For what avails this eager pace? ​​

I stand amid the eternal ways, 
And what is mine shall know my face.
Asleep, awake, by night or day, 
The friends I seek are seeking me; 
No wind can drive my bark astray, 
Nor change the tide of destiny.
What matter if I stand alone? ​

I wait with joy the coming years; 
My heart shall reap where it hath sown, 
And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own and draw 
The brook that springs in yonder height; 
So flows the good with equal law 
Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky; 
The tidal wave unto the sea; 
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, 
Can keep my own away from me.

Waiting -
by John Burroughs
Shared here:
The Daily Lesson - January 24, 2019 
http://www.iwso.org/thedailylesson.htm

​See Read More below 
for remainder of the writing re:
The Smiler Archetype - Dec 12, 2018
also here:
https://dorotheamills.weebly.com/oceanspeak-youthanasia-sanctarii/enemy-of-grace-antidote-one-must-become-art-itself-most-ancient-of-mans-tempters-and-enemies-121218

So Inner Blank right now…will random pick a Whisper
*****
AH! that WHISPER Found us in the instant:  Smiler Archetype
from
December 12, 2018
Here it is:
 
Truth is it is ONLY Divine Grace that has kept me thru all this lifetime…
thinking that something of lies/deceit can tarnish the Grace InFlow/OutFlow
only causes my life to be a “lie” to the Strength of Grace…
 
THINKING THAT ANYONE/ANYTHING
OF LIES/DECEIT CAN TARNISH THE
GRACE INFLOW/OVERFLOW OF THIS LIFE
ONLY CAUSES IT TO BE A LIE
TO THE POSSESSION OF GRACE*
ew
3:12 AM-12/12/18
 
* the most ancient of man’s tempters and enemies:
the hater who deceived you with a smile and a joke and a promise.
Hostage to the Devil
-Malachi Martin
 https://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/vatican/esp_vatican27d.htm


​​It was not so much what Marianne had learned. It was rather what she had become. “I was not another person. I was the same. Only I was convinced I had become free by being totally independent and by what had entered me and taken up residence inside me.”
https://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/vatican/esp_vatican27c.htm
 
As always before, the Breakpoint came at the precise moment Peter least expected it. It started with a sound difficult to describe. A horse whimpering. A dog whinnying. A man meowing. It was the very sound of pain. Of nature violated by unnature. Of deep agony. Of protest. Of helplessness. “Supposing a cadaver, after the death rattle and after the grimacing of the last breath was over, started to cry for help, what do you imagine it would sound like?” Peter asked later in an effort to describe this indescribable sound. “Or supposing when you were closing his dead eyelids with your thumb and forefinger” (he made the motion with spatular fingers) “and supposing you missed one eye, and it looked up at you still glassy and dead-you know how they look-and it filled with genuine tears.
 
That’s the feeling. Something reaching out from the middle of all the worms and putrid flesh and stink and body water and silent immobility of death, saying: ‘I’m alive! Pull me out! For the love of Jesus, save me!’ That was Marianne when the Breakpoint began. The tug of war for her soul that nearly broke me in two.”
*
The Presence was everywhere and nowhere. Peter fought off the instinct to step back or to look around or, most of all, to run far and fast. “Freeze yer moind,” had been Conor’s advice. “Freeze it in luv. Stick there, lad.” But, Holy Jesus! how? The Presence was all over him, inside him, outside him. A total trap of cloying ropes he couldn’t see.

​ He heard no word, saw no vision, smelled no odor. But his skin was no longer the protective shell of his mortality. His skin didn’t work! It was now a porous interface that let the invisible filth of the Presence ooze in. Worst of all was the silence of it. It was soundless. Suddenly he had been attacked and caught; and he knew his adversary was superior and ruthless, that it had invaded deep into the self he always hid from others and hoped only God did know and would never show him until he was strong enough to bear the sight.
 
*
Smiler, the cosmic joker, smears and tears at everything, Peter was thinking to himself, as he ruminated and groped toward his next step. Smiler, who turns memories to dirt and chokes you with them. But then he’s not subtle. And he’s not clever. Peter thought: This is either a trap for us, or we have Smiler trapped. Which?
 
*
Then a low, long cry came from Marianne’s lips. All in the room held their breath as the Voice gurgled and they made out the words with difficulty: “I will take my toll. I will take our pound of flesh. All 142 pounds of him! I will take him with me, with us, with me!” Complete silence. Then Marianne’s voice: “Smiler. I just smile.”

Peter glanced at her face. The name was obvious, now he knew it. The twisted smile was back on her mouth. Now, he realized, he had to deal with
the most ancient of man’s tempters and enemies:
the hater who deceived you with a smile and a joke and a promise.

The cleverness of it. How could you suspect or attack someone called Smiler? And if they just smile at anything you do, what can you do? The whole thing-God, heaven, earth, Jesus, holiness, good, evil-becomes a mere farce. And by the evil alchemy of that farce, everything becomes an ugly joke, a cosmic joke on little men who in their turns are only puny little jokes. And, and, and . . . the utter banality of all existence, the wish for nothing.
https://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/vatican/esp_vatican27d.htm
 
********************