I went to check on my friend. She lives below me in D’alt Villa, on Ibiza. We have a window between our casas through which we speak, as well as call to each other from balcony and gardens! I am the upstairs neighbor, ahhh once again the Ethyl role to Lucy, and this time she even has a Desi Arnez Spanish man, a yoga teacher. Yesterday, led by intuition, I left the villa and climbed way up high, and took a left, toward the tip top of the insular fortress cathedral which is now home to 700 people; the inhabitants of Dalt Villa. I found two huge beautifully carved doors open, as if an invitation were extended. I entered a tiny chapel, furtively. It was ornate, studded with gold, and red brocade, and 14th c. Spanish art of the Pieta, Mary holding dead alabaster Jesus. There were paintings of conquistadors bending to a baby Jesus with angels suspended with gold leaf wings. There were bars like spears guarding the front three pews of this chapel. I sat and sometimes kneeled, by myself, for over an hour. Then, suddenly these precious diminutive nuns came out, single file. I thought of Flora, Fauna and Meriweather. They poceeded to have their own mass, sans Priest, even communion. One played guitar, another keyboard. They are a cloistered order of Carmelite Nuns. I stayed and did as they did. Every once in a while the old nun who was the Mother Superior, with bad ankles and a cane, would turn around and smile this beautiful smile in my direction. I had insight and epiphany after insight and epiphany. Afterwards, I spoke to the nun escorting me out as she was going to lock the heavy wooden doors behind me. The huge lock was on a rope which served as a belt, along with many intriguing keys. I told her I would like to volunteer to work for them while I was there, because i couldnt help but notice most of their knees and ankles were wrapped in Ace bandages.I noticed this when they stood up and knelt down in the pews. She explained in English, that they were cloistered and no one could do anything for them or really, be with them, but thanks so much, and she invited me to a monthly prayer meeting! Id have to sit behind the bars where I had been seated, but they would pray with me and the other women who would appear. So, a few beautiful petite devout Catholic women from Ibiza arrived,as it WAS prayer night and we sang love songs to del Senor, Jesus, the prettiest love songs ever, “Tarde me amor, and si me falte en amor, Del Senior, nada soy, nada soy. If I falter in my love, Jesus, I am nothing, I am nothing. The nuns were in Love with Jesus. It was a huge revelation. I sang and sang in Espanol and all of us had our faces turned upward toward a huge effigy of del Senor, that is, Jesus, and the words on the paper in my hand, which I was following said “ habla del Senor intentiones personale. Tell Jesus what your personal intentions are. It was very silent inside, and hailing outside. All of the art was elongated stations of the cross, like El Grecos. What are my personal intentions? More to the point, in this sacred magical setting where I am manifesting so easily and so empowered, after being saved from terrible suffering yet again, and from illness and even finances healed and boys all ok, what do I want Jesus to give to me and what would my intentions be to do with the gift HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM Beyond the request that my boys be happy and nourished in all ways and well and healed of everything that might need healing? Only that I become a clearer channel for Christ’s love. A clearer channel. And that I more fully manifest the fruits of the spirit. That I continue to have the opportunity to heal, in some way, all that I meet. And as my own father taught me, that I “Love mightily, practice loving every living being. Love mightily.” I hold the experience above, all of it, in such reverence. I felt such reverence in the chapel singing love songs to The Dude. Del Senior. It was a most personal external expression of love; something really connected for me. I dont think Americans sing love songs to Jesus like that, outside of charismatic churches. it was very passionate. Thunder cracked all around D’alt Villa. It hailed. It stormed and thundered some more. And inside, we sang more love songs to Jesus Christos, together. Merry Christmas Christine
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 08:34:52 +0000
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