Lift me high, high above the clouds-to blue skies so bright, of mythic imagination. In sunbeams from sunlight . . . I am immersed, I am baptized. The regeneration of a soul who could only touch this world- longing for eternity, with the taste of the ephemeral always on his lips. It is but a glimmer, but a moment . . . and here I am.

Yet there is a beast within all of us who distains all that is sacred. In the afterglow of those moments of ecstasis we hold so dear we turn over to find this most dreadful bedfellow. All that is blissful, all that is numinous, in a brief moment of time is brought down to the language of the beast- shame, guilt, embarrassment, self-loathing- and in a moment we are swept up, or rather brushed down, into the essence of the mundane. In these moments that which is sacred, that which we had for a fleeting moment believed could break through the cloud cover of the ordinary is crucified on the cross of respectability, of conformity, of self-consciousness, and in the end, of pride.

This voice is that of the accuser, and it is his every breath which brings us down to earth. It is through his whispers that our faculties are nourished back to health. One day we wake up and life goes on. We do well enough so long as we stick with the tasks at hand. Yet we stumble, we grow ill, and in our illness we participate in what St. John Climacus referred to as a light form of asceticism. In these moments, as we grow feint, we may catch a glimpse of a great war of life and death at play behind the walls of the senses. And in this exile from ordinary concerns we begin to hear whispers of dwelling places blasphemous to our time. And sometimes we begin to believe them.

In the divine energies of grace I long to dwell. From glory to glory, and in a moment we will be at one, atoned, with God. I fail to understand, yet my salvation is the gift of my unknowing. It is in darkness I learn one need not waste time seeking to create light. My faculties have escaped me, and I now turn to the shadows for refuge from the path that returns them to me. Oh Uncreated Light, the Light beyond the Darkness that is beyond light, teach me to humble myself- a humility of body, of understanding, of mind, of deed, of word, teach me a humility of being so that I may set aside all cares of life, and receive the King of All.

Pray for me St. Dionysius, for with fervor I come to you, speedy helper and intercessor for my soul.

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