A Mystic’s Journal Entries: February 9 - 25, 2010.
Image: Ithaca this afternoon. A parent skiing and pulling a sled.
Tuesday, February 9
Walked into town to have dinner. On the way home a big fellow was trudging toward me, bent against the wind, hood down, staring ahead into the cold. Tiny little flakes had just started coming down. He had already passed me on the sidewalk, and almost on a whim I called after him, “Isn’t the snow lovely?”. To my surprise he turned to me and excitedly began speaking about the snow, how wonderful it was, such small flakes - and how it had just begun. In Ithaca, when we talk about the weather - we are really speaking about the weather. It is so extreme here, the temperatures and the snow; sometimes it can drop or gain thirty or more degrees within a few hours.
Continuing my walk home, my hood pulled down, someone passed me on the sidewalk, wearing white sneakers; well, I saw only the sneakers. I almost called out, “Where are your boots ?”, but then noticed that he was wearing a only a winter jacket and khaki shorts and white ankle socks - he was entirely bare-legged. Ithaca. I thought better of mentioning the boots, and before I could think of anything better to say he rounded the corner in another direction from mine. I try to talk to strangers on my walks, especially in winter weather, because of my friend Arushka. She once said that the United States was so isolating and unloving. “In Russia, we care about other people, whether they are friends or strangers. If someone is walking without a warm scarf in winter, other people on the street will stop and say, ‘Where is your scarf?’” and Arushka took hold of me, pretending to lovingly readjust my scarf ... That statement made a deep impression on me, and now I try to at least say something when the opportunity presents itself - without physically going up to someone. My friend Aruska was right, of course. Even in this very small town, if I went up to a stranger, to lovingly readjust their clothing - they would most likely push me away, hit me, or call out for the police ...
Half way home I looked down and realized I was covered with tiny flakes, as though I had been dipped in confectioner’s sugar, like a cupcake or blueberry muffin or torte. No one else was out walking, and I was grateful for the fresh air and the magic of myriad tiny snowflakes swirling and spinning in the lamplight.
No updates from Diana, she must be teaching at the Art Institute again tonight.
Thursday, February 11
A flurry of e-mails from Diana tonight. Widows and orphans, and I found more mistakes. The errors in one story, Supernatural Fragrances, we decided belonged to the Sorcerer’s Apprentice - we have already edited it twelve times, and each time either make new errors or find more old ones. Diana said they are expecting ten inches of snow in Dallas. She stopped our work to brush the snow off the pomegranate bushes and other shrubs in her yard - and to find her cat. She said snowmen and snowwomen had sprung up all over town. Dallas closed down today, so she did not teach at the Art Institute. Instead, most of her day was spent addressing the gaping hole left by the plumbers in the ceiling of her computer room. Creative as always, she covered it with matte board and then with muslin.
Friday, February 12
Those of you who are reading my Journal entry “The Golden Arrow” here on Buzzle, a few entries before this entry: the poem can also be used as a Healing meditation - just substitute your problem or illness for the first line or two of the poem. Also I could not figure out how to center the poem on this website - and when centered, it is in the shape of an arrow. To see it centered, you can go to my website, under ‘Community’.
More corrections today, a few e-mails waiting for me this morning. We are still in Section III of Visits With Angels, and when we are done with these corrections I will have to go through all the stories again. I feel trapped in a time/space warp re Section III., especially the story Supernatural Fragrances.
Today Diana objected to one of my long sentences in that story, and I tried to explain that some of my long sentences are actually poems written out in prose form. In this case, the sentence contains a prayer given to Saint Gertrude - and I wrote the remainder of that long sentence to also sound like the recitation of a prayer, with a similar feeling of cadence and meditative rhythm. I also pointed out that I followed the arguable sentence, with a short sentence, for balance. Here is the sentence - and the sentence following it:
"When I first began to say the prayer given to St. Gertrude by Our Lord: “Eternal Father, I offer Thee the most Precious Blood of Thy Divine Son, in union with all the Masses said throughout the world today for the souls in Purgatory, sinners everywhere, for sinners in the Universal Church,” when I came to the words “sinners in the Universal Church,” I saw the Cathedral of Light before me, and felt its heat – and knew that all those in the Mystical Church, including myself, were being purified. I was not told this, I merely knew it.”
To illustrate my point, I wrote it out in poem form:
When I first began to say the prayer
given to St. Gertrude by Our Lord:
"Eternal Father, I offer Thee the most
PreciousBlood of Thy Divine Son,
in union with all the Masses said
throughout the world today
for the souls in Purgatory,
for sinners in the Universal Church,"
when I came to the words
"sinners in the Universal Church,"
I saw the Cathedral of Light
before me, and felt its heat -
and knew that all those
in the Mystical Church,
were being purified.
Saturday, February 13
I officially closed Section III of Visits With Angels tonight - but only after untangling the strangest of problems found in Diana’s final formatted version. For one, a story from Section II suddenly and mysteriously appeared in Section III. To antidote that, a story from Section III suddenly and mysteriously disappeared completely. I found a few other glaring errors that somehow Diana and I and the editor missed, also a few headers had migrated - and then Diana, in her scramble to find the missing and migrated stories accidentally re-ordered the left/right page structures of the chapters, and had to re-configure them.
Diana remained cheerful throughout, and in my opinion she is well on her way to sainthood.
When she has made the few remaining corrections I suggested, we will continue on to Section II - which already has problems with page numbers. I thought we had already corrected Sections I and II but it seems we had not. At least not a final proof. Which is one good reason why it is never wise to leave a project unfinished ...
A week or so ago it seemed that we were plunging ahead at breakneck speed, onward to the end. Instead, we are literally going backwards in the future. However, one result of this last round of corrections is that Diana decided to add some “pulled quotes”, i.e. put some lines of text in larger print and in italics, centered on the page - as she has done in our previous volumes, and I have always thought it a wonderful touch. In my opinion, this is the best formatting of all the volumes - and I am very fond of the folios she has placed at the bottom of each page.
Thursday, February 25
Snow, snow, snow, beautiful fluffy, wet snow everywhere. It is more than a blizzard, they are calling it a “snow hurricane”. The winds will hit later tonight. Even Ithaca closed down today; M. sent her paralegal Allison home at 3:30. I was planning to walk into town and meet M. For dinner, but nothing was open. All the world is either shoveling or walking or sledding or skiing tonight. The landscape is white, white, white - white.
Diana sent me her first graphic for We Meet in Dreams, a starry nightscape strip that will become the model for the others. A starscape. She called it “the starry sky graphic” in her e-mail subject line, and they will set off the section titles, table of contents etc. Between her plumbing problems, teaching at the Art Institute and having company this past week - there has not been time for work on the Angels volume.
Meanwhile - I am having a bit of a rest.
Site: Figaro Books
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|Reviewed by Marguerite Lemoine
|Be an Angel and finish that book. Meanwhile, I have my l00 poems ready but cannot make up my mind who to send it to for publication. Can you suggest someone? I think you would find it interesting. I am starting to collect the next l00 for another book.. I have written well over 100 and stories and articles also Could you help me through your Figaro Book Store? God Bless and you can keep your snow. We have had a little in the south and it is much too cold for old bones. Marguerite The Little Flower
"I love you with the love of the Lord
Yes, I love you with the love of the Lord
I can see in you the Glory of my King
And I love you with the love of the Lord"