milkweed

It was strange to hear from Vernon Foster yesterday, the same day I relayed the kernal of the substance of my experience with him to my father, who called me when I was shopping at Save on Fifth. We spoke about talking to God. My father had spoken with a Trappist Priest that week who'd told him, you don't talk to God, God talks to you. So I told him about Vernon, about how he taught me to talk to God - or the Great Spirit in Vernon's vocabulary - with great intimacy in regards to my feelings. I'm not seeking deliverance from them, even when they torment me, I know they are doing important work. Slowly I am learning that a feeling is a kind of sacred enzyme that has to be carefully held, and where better to do it than in the silent altar of prayer, where it's not about the drama of the affliction but the intimacy of recognizing the truth.