I am totally posting this a day late - but yesterday was the feast day of none other than St. John of the Cross! Comparatively less known in the light of popular figures like St. Francis, St. Peter, Mary and other giants of sainthood, St. John is nonetheless not only a deeply spiritual figure, but an acclaimed poet even in his lifetime. He remains an inspiration for mystics, monks, contemplatives and spiritual poets of many denominations - like Francis, Mary, Joan of Arc and other traditionally Catholic figures, St. John inspires even those outside of the Christian faith. And - much like Francis, Joan of Arc and others - St. John achieved fame and following in his lifetime and thereafter, despite persecution by members of the institution with which he was most closely affiliated (i.e., the Catholic church as it was in his day).
A revolutionary contemplative of sixteenth century Spain, Saint John aroused the ire of his own monastic order (the Carmelites) as he brought about reforms that emphasized a return to the values of poverty and asceticism. He was imprisoned by other members of the Carmelite order who opposed his reforms. Kept in a tiny cell for nine months, John suffered severe torture by his oppressors, which included starvation, regular public beatings, and extreme living conditions. During his imprisonment he wrote his poetic opus, "The Spiritual Canticle of the Soul," on paper that was smuggled to him by the friar who guarded his cell. You guys should read some of it, it's fucking beautiful.
The Canticle details in metaphor and allegory the journey of a soul thirsting for the presence of the divine (specifically, Christ), and from it comes the popular phrase "Dark Night of the Soul," (not to be confused with this Dark Knight of the Soul) which refers to a period of time during one's spiritual journey that entails feelings of loss, hopelessness, and absence regarding external spiritual forces that are sought but have yet to be found. A similar idea can also be found in modern studies of Kabbalah (see Da'at, as explained by the almighty oracle Wikipedia - I've taken Kabbalah classes you guys, but I'll be damned if I get into all that in this article. Saving it for another day, it's complicated stuff. But shoutouts to Tami Harms, who is an amazing teacher of Kabbalah and life.).
Anyway, after being all imprisoned and stuff, St. John escaped with the help of an angel, according to some legends. He went on to found all these monasteries and hung out with Teresa of Avila, a.k.a. the baddest bitch to ever write about the soul and shit. She is also a saint. Go figure. Eventually, Saint John's reforms became an actual thing, resulting in the founding of the Discalced Order of the Carmelites.
I haven't had much personal experience with St. John, other than the fact that I really identify with his poetry. But, he totally appeared to me in a dream and I was like yuuusssss.
...Okay, well, he didn't appear to me in a dream, but some guy did, and he was like, "you know why Saint John was so damn great?" ...And I was like, "why, random guy. Why was Saint John so great." And he was like, "...because he prospered in the midst of death."
True story. His exact words. Still thinking about the meaning. I don't know, it probably has something to do with how awesome it was that he wrote his poetic masterpiece while he was being tortured for nine months, or whatever.
Hashtag, think about shit.
Anyway, in conclusion, I went wayyyy overboard with the links. #noregrets. And in further conclusion, here's a poem I wrote re:The Spiritual Canticle, on the eve of St. John's feast last year. Featuring Kali, as always.
#Kali2020
I Meet God in Kali's Penthouse
Saint John of the cross
met his God in a rich estate.
"Sit down," said his God.
"Have a drink.
You look stressed."
"Well, yeah," said John,
"they're torturing me
and starving me and shit
and like dude it took me forever to find You
what the hell is up with that,"
and his God was like dude
I feel you about the torture thing,
I mean have you seen my hands?
My side?
And Saint John laughed,
and he was like I feel that yo
and his God was like for real though
have a drink
you look like hell
and as for looking for me
well
you found me in this poem
so hey like that's better than nothing right
I don't know what else to tell you man
you gotta deal with it
and John was like well
I guess you're right
and later he wrote it all down
after an angel helped him escape the monks who had captured him
he got hella famous
it was pretty cool I guess
anyway
I was reading his poetry
and Kali was gazing down on me
from her perch in the heavens
and she texts me like,
"hey babe
you look lonely
come to my place
we can make out and stuff"
I sigh.
"Sounds good man
I'll be over in ten,"
"Nah
I need you sooner than that"
she croons
and she snaps her fingers
and I'm in her penthouse
Jesus she's a slob
there are baggy tees and lacy underwear
slung over the backs of posh couches
and I yawn
and wonder where she's at
and then
the door blows off its hinges
and there she is in her black tank
baggy jeans
with at least one alcoholic beverage in each one of her six hands/
she laughs
and her fangs show
"surprise, bitch
let's get drunk and watch 300
and make out on the couch,"
I laugh
"dude
have ya heard of knocking?"
She frowns.
"Bitch I live here!
The hell I'm knocking
now come on
this fifth isn't gonna guzzle itself,"
I grin
and we get to it
and in the afterglow
she's like hey
I've been meaning to tell you
good job on those healings
you're making all of us real proud
Jesus, Odin
Ix Chel, Pahau, all of us
we're proud of you
I'm like
yeah
but
like
I duno
it's been a while
since I did any real shit
like dude that one time I worked on this girl
like her foot was all fucked up from rugby, you remember that?
She's like yeah
I remember
you just put your hands on that shit
and like boom it was all over in a second
pain gone and she was like what
how did you do that
you were like shit
I duno
ask God, shit,
you should've sent her to me, bitch,
I would've shown her what's up
I'm like yeah
I know
ugh
when was the last time I pulled some shit like that
she's like don't worry
it'll come back
I'm like the hell it will
I'm decent at best these days
she's like don't be a dick, man,
you don't realize this but you're a total dick
when you get down on yourself
like this
I'm like yeah
I know
and we lie there for a while
not saying anything
then she traces a black-nailed finger
over the Latin on my back,
"do you remember why you got this,"
she whispers
I chew my lip
"yeah,"
I say, barely breathing.
"It's not over,"
she says,
and her breath is electric
it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up
and her hands are cool
and for once,
they are gentle
"It's never going to be over,"
I say,
and for once
she has nothing to say
there are a million things she could say
but I've heard it all
in visions and dreams
this one time I met a dude
who had been a priest
I didn't know he had been a priest
but I saw him in priest's clothes
like in a vision or something
and then I found out he had been a priest
and I was like oh
well
that makes sense I guess
and when I was twenty
I saw an enormous eagle
landing on a globe
when I was chilling on the quad outside my dorm
this dude who knows all this hopi shit
was like
"that's the Creator
he's coming back
the Hopi medicine men
have seen this coming for eons
and now you've seen it"
and I was like well how about that
maybe I should stop hating everybody
that seems like an appropriate response
to this situation
I didn't tell him that
mostly I still hate everybody
I hope Creator cuts me some slack on that one
anyway
I'm working on it
the other day my coworker was dealing with this kid,
she was kind
but stern
her hair and shoulders spit flecks of gold
as if she wasn't hot enough already
Jesus
anyway
watching that happen
was the least hateful moment I've had
in a while
it was nice
but it's taking forever
to kill that hatred
in a dream two dragons fought inside of me
one was black
the other was white
the good and evil in you are fighting
always fighting
said a voice
all of your father's hatred
it's fighting with your love
always fighting
I was like ugh
don't remind me
that's some Anakin Skywalker shit
except in my case
a good lay would probably turn me away from the dark side
anyway
have you seen my back
my side
I'm in it like I've never been before
I love it
Kali and I fuck viciously on the regular
I can feel Grandfather Wolf
burning away in my stomach
his claws are hot iron
his eyes are coals
Kali's probably right
it'll come back
I duno
Mary came to me the other night
I cried into her robes
like I haven't cried in a while
she was like
you know what you should do
you should take your right thumb
and draw a cross over your heart
when you need me
I was like
sounds good
I'll do that
anyway
have you seen my heart though
two dragons tear each other up inside of it
have you seen my side
for real though
I should have a drink
I deserve it
I look like hell
I find my gods every night in dreams
they come from everywhere
Northern Europe
Hawaii
Mesoamerica
India
Greece
Japan
North America
Catholic saints,
old dead Druids
wolves and bears
ravens, turtles
ghosts
angels
Naiads
fairies
it never stops
I don't want it to stop
for real though
I should have a drink
I look like hell
have you seen my dreams
they seethe and burn
have you seen my side
Finis. 'Till next time, lovely ones. Here are some pictures: St. John's reliquary, a sketch by St. John of a vision he had of Christ on the cross, and one artist's depiction of a soul in Da'at.
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