AgainstTheWind

Cameron

Tara took Cameron and Quentin into New Orleans to ride the street car in January. I was invited to go along, so we do have a photo or twenty. When he's charming, he's a total charmer! He's due here for grandma time tomorrow. Happy happy, joy joy. So much for my getting anything else done. Maybe we can at least go grocery shopping.

Yesterday I attended a bible study group. I must say, the verdict is 'disappointing'. They're using a video series from a woman who is so "on" she makes some truly annoying friends and acquaintances who suffer from "on"ness look terribly tame. And the film is done like she's delivering a lecture on some topic, and proof texting, jumping around from verse to verse. For my money, I just want to read the Bible. The stories may need some historical perspective, but let's just read the story.

Taking off on a tangent, it seems the social animals that we humans are love hierarchical structures. I could get more work out of my students by using some sort of ordered list so they could compete against one another to gain spots on the list. I had to adjust the tactic when someone complained about being posted publically as being the last student. So I went to ranking the top half of the class, which worked fine as well.

Is there some sort of hierarchy of spirituality? Clearly some folks have a rich and rewarding prayer life and resonate with the Spirit. Others are quite willing to head out into crazyland, making themselves some sort of divinity in their own mind. And not all wrong that. I think we are invited into divinity, but it's a lot of work. I located a "Ladder of Divine Graces" that breaks down the spiritual ascent of "purification, illumination, and unity" into ten steps.

Here is the beginning of the poem:

The Ladder of Divine Graces
which experience has made known to those inspired by God

The first step is that of purest prayer.
From this there comes a warmth of heart,
And then a strange, a holy energy,
Then tears wrung from the heart, God-given.
Then peace from thoughts of every kind.
From this arises purging of the intellect,
And next the vision of heavenly mysteries.
Unheard-of light is born from this ineffably,
And thence, beyond all telling, the heart's illumination.
Last comes—a step that has no limit
Though compassed in a single line—
Perfection that is endless.

Is there indeed a hierarchy of spiritual grace? How prideful is it for me to try to walk that path? I've not made much inroads on growing writing skill. I'm not selling photograhy. Quilts won't feather my nest. So if the nest is to remain unfeathered, why not seek to resonate with the divine music? Oh vanity.

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