Excerpt from the reply to comment 19mar18 194C21
I know quite well that there are concepts as rooted in humanity as trees are in the earth, I know that the idea held by a believer, be they Jewish, Christian, Muslim or any other religion, of God remains very close to the idea that ancient pagans had of their gods.
I know that this feeling of gods supposed to be close beings, therefore of God supposedly close, one or One that they might cross on their path, have at their table, listening when they pray, with whom they believe they sleep, is a cultural notion found everywhere on Earth by a thousand names and to leave this primitivism is a very difficult process for a sinner’s thinking, so difficult that most of those who attempt it tire quickly, take a brutal shortcut: atheism, or at least indifference, which relieves them of having to think too much, to question their inner selves.
Hiding oneself from the Father behind science: “I only believe what I can see or a process which I can reproduce”, has become so calming that all the lazy ones of the Earth throw themselves into it by millions. For it is true, and that is one of the problems of apostleship, that to seek or to accept the Truth requires such an effort that these days, most renounce it. And the Father knows it so well that He, in Love, took another shortcut, saying: “It’s not what you believe or what you know that saves you, it is only doing Good.” But even this shortcut, how many follow it?
Yes, I know that there is something extremely unsettling in the fact that the Father, the Unlimited All, who entered into contact with me five times from October 2nd to November 22nd, 1977, spoke to me. I know one can easily think that it was a para-human or meta-human intervention and therefore that the One Who spoke to me is close, so close that one does not really know whether man is the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1/26) or if God is the image and likeness of man. I know that believers find in the idea they have of God this mixture of fear and comfort that one feels facing a high authority, someone powerful.
But I said above “in Love”. Isn’t it rather the notion you have of God’s Love and man’s love, his mirror, that is your problem?
Yes, God spoke to me – spoke with sonorous words as humans do – in Arès in 1977 and I understand that one could suppose as you do that only a similar being, a close one, can talk to you, be he more powerful than you, someone who would be the image and likeness of man, an atom of man, rather than man seen as an atom of God, of All, of the All Other. But at the moment when God spoke to me in 1977, I did not feel Him close to me, I did not perceive Him as Something or Someone similar to a human. I had more a feeling that the sky was falling on my head, that the whole universe was suddenly concentrated within the four walls of the chapel that would become the House of the Holy Word (which we are enlarging at the moment).
No, I did not at all have the impression that another Frenchman, celestial, was speaking to me in my language, but rather a kind of Memory of Everything, of all that can exist in the Universe, a gigantic Memory of All – ah! The giants of ancient times (RA 31/6) – permitted this power outside of any dimension (as powerful in the form of a stick of light as it is in the form of infinite space) an Intelligence plugged into a sort of total Memory not only of humanity but of Everything crossed by infinite forces of all the possible imaginable ways of expression. He did not speak to me in French, He spoke to me, period, as if He were pumping from me all that He needed in order to express Himself and I understood that by doing so, He could speak all the languages of the Earth and space, if there are living beings who speak elsewhere.
So then, yes, it was “cold, exterior, foreign” as you say, but at the same time it was within me. The All re-soldered itself during that extraordinary moment. Everything that I heard and saw, it was as if I were above, outside and inside at the same time. And when the Theophany was over, the day dawned, it was a new day where I saw everything differently as if it were the first morning of the world. At the same time that I was transported, ravished in the fullest sense of the term, I was in anguish, saying to myself: How can I share that with those to whom I will recount it? That is when I realized that the lesson of reality I must give to the world would be very long for humans to conceive who are so backward with their concepts quasi-animal and who would laugh in my face.
Leave behind, my sister Grain of Salt, leave behind that primitive state where sin has caused you to fall, leave behind being in between Adam, the animal who has the nostalgia of when he was nursed by his mother, an awakened wolf, a perspicacious elephant or a thinking monkey, and Adam coming forth from the Mouth of All, from the Creator, suckling his strength from the Strength of the All, taking as his speech the Speech of the Unlimited (RA vii/2-6). You are an entity that goes back to the beginning of time and this reality must soak into you entirely. …
The universe forms a coherent All of which the Father who expressed Himself at Arès is the Sanctity, the Light and the Power (RA 12/4). The Father is not a person who by definition is limited, has dimensions. Of this unlimited All, without dimensions, you are a fragment, an atom, a demonstration, a manifestation totally incorporated in Him. That is why death does not exist. It can be disappearance, even annihilation (RA 4/8, 7/5, etc.), but it is like black holes, invisible, inexistent, but which manifest by their attraction all the same the life (or Life?) that they were at the time they were stars. It is unimaginable, dizzying, I know, and we do not have an intellect strong enough nor strong enough language which would enable us to describe that on earth, but we will have them elsewhere in other forms of conscience! That is what Buddha explained but that so few understood enough so as to change their lives. It is what Jesus knew was in vain to explain because of the numbed state of sinners and he went around it as the Father asked him to do by giving the recipe for rebuilding the Being: the Sermon on the Mount, the practice of penitence. To be penitent or live the Sermon on the Mount, is to find oneself caught up in the vast metronomical movement on which reposes the Life of the Universe, of which we are.
You are not a stone in the immense pile of stones of the Universe. Your bones will rejoin the stones, but you, you are part of Life except that Life is not the minuscule life of a baby kangaroo in its mother’s pocket, that you seek when you nestle yourself in “the temperature 37°C” as you were when you were a baby and one gave you the breast or a bottle, it’s Life which scares you, whereas you should on the contrary throw yourself into it with joy and enthusiasm because that is how you will be remade a God (RA 2/13).
Translated by djd
*RA=The Revelation of Arès
You can read the original blog entry in English here:
As the phoenix is re-born from its ashes, this vest was re-knit with yarn re-used after re-winding, nothing major, the key of Dm.
I remember being in a busload of people screaming “second verse, same as the first, a little bit louder and a little bit worse.”
Here we have a second vest, a little bit wider and a little less messed.
Today I attended a workshop and learned a new technique.
The table was prepared.
This is the press.
Put down a protective piece of paper which can be marked to aid with placement, then the inked plate, then the damp watercolour paper,
then roll it.
We used these tools to gouge lines on a copper plate.
The next step was to spread ink and then lift off the excess.
This is my work for the day. 1 – A preliminary sketch. A very good idea as otherwise I would not have been able to fit my subject in the space allotted. The copper plate was 10cm square. 2 – The etched plate. 3 – A test print on medium weight paper. 4 – First print on watercolour paper with black ink. 5 – Print with sepia ink. 6 – Print with black ink mostly wiped off, followed by sepia ink. 7 – Black ink followed by light washes of watercolour. 8 – Sepia with attempted textures.
I was thinking tagliatelli but some of these are bordering on lasagne.
My grandma told me “use one egg per person, add as much flour as it will take, roll out as thin as you can.”
Sprinkle with flour and gently separate them from the work surface. This plastic tool comes in handy. Toss them around a bit to be sure they are well separated, play with them, enjoy them. Cook as usual, they will get done faster than dried pasta.
Not sold in any package. My husband made the sauce.
And so together, between us both, we licked the platter clean.
Riddle: What do homemade pasta and snowflakes have in common?
…”Even those who understand that evil will not be conquered by opposing one opinion to another, one belief to another, one religion to another, one side of politics to another, etc., but love of all by all must be established, are afraid as soon as they are asked to become other than everyone else and to resolutely become men and women of Good, men and women seeking Life so as to escape from this life of cowards or addled-brains.”…
excerpt from the reply to comment 28fev18 193C61
Translated by djd
Sometimes my grandfather would call me Penelope. I don’t know why, maybe he just liked that word. This week I did a Penelope thing.
I knitted a round yoked vest, my first round yoked garment. All the while, I was worried it might be too small, but I decided if it was, I would steek it, add bands and then I could use the nifty clasps I bought a while back in Estonia.
For some reason, I was using double pointed needles instead of circulars. The reason had to do with converting American to metric sizes. After my husband used a clever electronic device to measure my 6’s and 7’s, I found out that size 7 is 4.55mm, definitely close enough to 4.5mm. The dp’s meant I had ladders, as hard as I tried, I could not seem to eliminate them. There was a vague hope they would disappear with time. Very vague. When I tried on the finished garment, it was indeed too small which accentuated the ladders. I realized I would not be able to bear wearing the ladders, so I am ripping it all out and will try again, creating a bigger size, since I had already knit the biggest on the pattern.
Penelope sacrificed her work and time for the sake of a higher ideal. Perfection in knitting is not that elevated of a goal, but I was not happy with a flawed garment.
This no longer exists.
Some people split hairs, I thought, as I chopped each physalis into 8 pieces.
Physalis or groundcherries or Cape something I forget
Red bell pepper (not hot)
Shallot finely chopped into lime juice
A sprinkle of Berber spice blend (it is quite hot)
Mix well and wait a little while. Then enjoy as a relish.