In the Chapel
I kneel before the altar lit with dim yellow bulbs. The quiet in the chapel stretches unbroken except for the occasional echoed footsteps of some sinner passing through the church, having done a poor job of urge control. With head bowed and eyes closed I clear my mind with a prayer. Though I can't see him, the marble Saint stretches his arms toward me in blessing. I think Saints should always be posed in ready-to-hug position, and maybe be plumbed with warm water. I want a warm Saint hug.
Right, back to the prayer.
Those who see God are psychologically released and then sometimes confined to a treatment center. My God lives inside, so far inside that it could be outside. I focus on the small and the small becomes large: humility, the collective, me.
Right, back to the prayer.
Those who see God are psychologically released and then sometimes confined to a treatment center. My God lives inside, so far inside that it could be outside. I focus on the small and the small becomes large: humility, the collective, me.
posted by JMH | 8:57 PM
6 Comments:
Love this.
(And I feel like I should be whispering!)
In addition to whispering, while commenting on this post you must never be wearing shorts or skirts above the knee. You must always keep your shoulders covered.
Reading that comment of yours there I am SO glad I'm still wearing my ninja pyjamas. I always whisper when i type too, so phew!
I can relate to this post. Well, the being confined to a treatment centre part anyway.
I think the whole warm huggy saint idea is a grand one! I would definitely hug statues more often if they were nice and warm and cuddly.
I have a disturbing verification word: "plolob". Ewwww...sounds inapropriate to me.
Continuing on that theme, maybe saints should always be sculpted with an open mouth.
"Even the ones portrayed in the midst of martyrdom?" you ask.
"Especially those," I say.
That may offend some people. But to those people I say don't judge until you've made out with a saint. The bleeding ones are the most passionate.
Yes we are.
I'm naked! Woot woot! (The exclamations marks symbolize yelling).
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