Pen,

You promised me an entire day at the beach. I wanted to remind you. So if you do drive me straight there please do bring a small cooler of food/snacks/drinks and a blanket and prepare to bring a book or i don't know, whatever makes this situation bearable for you. A hat, tons of SPF, etc. Think of it as a ritual now that you'll be 32. I can maybe give you a list of tasks or feats to perform if that helps also. And I'll have been using Jan-March as my base tanning months so I'll be preapred. And do remember pouring down rain visits don't count, nor do driveby, walkbys or crane your neck from the car and get a glimpse, like the last time. So. Sad. Wah.Wah.

I'm excited to see you. I have fond memories of MarioKart Wii. I do remember talk of painting the last time i was there and it is possible but if i had to chose- visit shooting range with j.lo or paint i might chose a gun just because. ;) Though painting doesn't take too long so I guess I can do both. We do have 6 days. All of these lists things sound totally feasible. And it is your birthday. That word will work wonders in getting most of what what you want except the aforementioned.

Today I'm going to yoga and i'm seeing some movie called 'new york, i love you'. I don't love NY. I know every city deserves two visits so I'm holding out final judgement but still. It's at the $2 theatre. A-- is ditching work and I'm going with her after maybe a stop at a tasty food place. Also did you know, I'm officially 33 1/2. My half birthday was on Friday. I hadn't until just now thought of myself as being 34. And yet there it is, looming, not 6 months away. 34, what on earth does it mean and what will it bring. Otherwise I'm more than 1/2 way done with Red Tent. I read most of it yesterday. And besides the awesomeness of moon rituals, somewhat over idealized, I totally dig it. Because women should be able to do nothing and hang out in a tent for 3 days. Why not. Why is there no time in life to acknowledge mystery and sacrifice.

Aside from that I deduced I dont think i have any other allergies except a build up of yeast in my system. Thats my new investigation-- caused by too much healthy cultures, sugar, all that tea i drink, wheat, dairy, and cheese... awesome good times. Muriel said as much the last time but doesn't the absence of wheat and milk nix it for me? Apparently not. Whatever. I mean I mostly cut down on the tea consumption. But I'm holding fast to cheese, fruit and chocolate. For obvious reasons right! Anyway.

So yah, I feel better and have restabilized from the morose thoughts of 2 days ago. I like your fixing thoughts. I encourage you to continue. I myself obviously, go right to fix mode on so many things and I don't get exasperated by such advice, just encouraged. Because I don't necessairly like to sit in problems. I like to route them, delegate them and get them off my plate. No need to dwell here. Move along move along. Until it crops up again and then you and parker can give me the goods and the tea girls can do what they do and i'll be right back to it. Thats what friends are for.

M.

m,

While walking The Loop last time, we were literally one block from the ocean. So this time, perhaps I’ll drive you straight there. Just to be a little obnoxious. :)

Otherwise, your next sojourn to here will have to include:

• Ghost walk. The good, creepy one.
• The Loop.
• Painting? Want to help me paint the master bedroom?
• MarioKart Wii!
• YOGA. Wonder if I can get you a guest pass to gym?
• Church.
• Photos.
• Little Dipper Ladies Night.
• 32nd B-day celebration!
• And some other great adventure(s), TBD.

Have I mentioned I can’t wait???

pen

dear m,

If only your day had ended on the tea, rather than the horse-jumping. Although then I suppose the ladies’ work would feel more like damage control, rather than pure support and uplifting of spirit, which I love them for. I’m automatically venomous on your behalf in response to B. But I might practically, or diplomatically, or even optimistically conclude that perhaps it is not one or the other, Should You or Shouldn’t You. Maybe the truth lies somewhere in the middle. Regardless of the Should or Should Not, it seems like this idea of of a spiritual formation and soul care path is very much who you are and the path you are destined to follow. And maybe that means choosing something concrete to go alongside the more nebulous outcome of the degree. Making the choice of, I am interested in X job (specific position or field), and that will be my goal. Teaching, missionary, advisor? And in what context. Who do you wish to work with, to reach. And/or even for now, making that choice to act. Is there something you can get before this program that would propel you forth on this path? Or maybe it is time to try on the different hats and see how they feel. Can you volunteer or even seek out a paying position for the sake of exploration? With your church or elsewhere? I certainly don’t think it is the time to give up, and yes, let B’s words and attitude stoke the fire. Your being is spiritual and abstract and floating; yang beseeches yin to move toward the middle. Do. Reflect, yes, but then Do. I feel like it will ground you, guide you, keep your footing more sure. And while none of us will ever find the nonexistent Perfection in life, occupations included, knowledge or fear of this fact must not keep a person from seeking something close. Think of the light you might bring to people and who they might be, rather than letting the dark swallow that light and its potential.

In my humble opinion-

pen.

Penolin,

Heyo.
I had an interesting slings and arrows sort of day. I went to the very last salon tea. I came close to overdoing the cream and sugar in the tea but persevered along with my quarter sized bite of scone. The frittata was so good though that next time I demand more or 2nds... Aut is close to 2ndbabyville and J is close to NY, new job, selling house self. Both on the brink of monumental change. They include us, danica and i, in the change of changes- and I think certainly D with her kiddo and her already in progress MA is plugging along in the change category, and her possibly new houseowner self speaks of ramping up into something else entirely. I don't feel quite a part of it. I feel in fact, way outside in stationaryville. Sure there's the 'rents moving out, (a year from now?) and me staying, but its not me owning or me with a job. It seems a false step. But then I end up thinking there's something about what I'm doing I don't quite see. A perspective that where I'm going must signal something more than what I see it as. They're excited about it. The ladies as usual, thought i was too quiet, that when I had gotten up to go to the bathroom they'd had a question or two already to go to ask me about my spiritual landscape. . . and were alternately so extremely supportive of my new career as mystic or at the very least degree holder of MA in SF&SC that it seemed a sure thing. A set up to my whole future self. I couldn't, while in their presence, articulate any sort of panic about it not happening, about it not going anywhere... I only managed to say, God willing and I hope so. And i'm proceeding as if its happening, that a job will come and that the end result is me doing this new thing and helping people. I walked out only with a thin thread of a question mark but the rest seemed good and sure and lovely and bolstered up and ready. I couldn't even argue it. Of course I'll get in. Of course I'll get a job so I can pay for it. The fact that bacon fat splattered all over my silk teal dress didn't phase me (much). There was a solution waiting for me at home.

Then I went to have chinese food for dinner and it didn't really satisfy. Not hearty, not quite right. And onward to M's house where I met her and B to see the grandprix of horse jumping? That was fairly cool actually. Though it was just close to my memories of the circus and feeling horribly sorry for the performing bears. But some of the horses were beautiful and spirited and looked like gazelles leaping over the bars. And others I just hoped wouldn't one day end up slaughtered glue. I wanted to see them free in some field munching on grass. I couldn't hear a word B and M said so I was mostly absorbed in hearing the pounding of the hoofs or the telltale hit of a bar signaling a point against the rider, the various ooh!, ooo, of the crowd. I had wine. If i were an instrument my strings would have showed myself taut and hitting a lower chord. Twang.Twang.Twang. All the while we sat there, the flip between having tea with the girls and having a brief conversation with B about "career" paths... and "vision" left me floundering on a hook and gasping. And all it took were two or three sentences to undo the determined work the women of tea did. B showed signs of hating her job, but still encouraging me to apply to that other job (volunteer/event coordinator) at her place, but then asking me what i did for work- when you know me, what can i answer but anything? everything? nothing at all? or what does it matter? And the way she asked it made me feel I'd already failed, and that she wasn't going to really "help me" get it, and then on the way there she said, I don't mean to discourage you but there's no jobs out there for spirtual direction- (she's a chaplain and actively looking)- and part of me already had that illuminating discovery at the schools meet and greet. It was the first chink in the armor- apprehension, "purpose", all of this for nothing? Wasn't this thing of all things suppose to lead to SOMETHING? Nothing ever has before this so why start now, I countered, I could volunteer my time to my church. What did it matter? And yet still the fabric of my courage began to tear. Pointlessness. The flaming arrow hit its intended target with accuracy. And she herself, who probably didn't "mean" to discourage me delivered the blow in such a way and in such a tone, that she meant to do exactly that. Speak death right into my hope and into my life. I am discouraging you quite deliberately she meant to say. The result of all your work will be, nothing at all.

And there I went, down,down,down, to where I had been seeing just below the fabric of friendly motivation and insight. The truth of it- I don't want to come out of this and go back to the same pointless existence as before- the same meandering job searches, the positively unmotivated days of what to do- i really did want direction. And all of it came seeping in- then why bother? But then I think- what else do I have? All I have is that to go toward. There's not even a job to encourage me to stay the course. It's just a feeling. It's just the tea girls and Lauralee. With their thumbs up saying, stay the course. And most everyone saying, that's perfect for you!

It is isn't it? And then back to B and the poison she injected right into my heart, because she's depressed and struggling and now i'm right down there with her. But then I think if God really does want me to do this it doesn't matter, if at the end of it there's still nothing, does it? It feels like all i have. What can I lose?

And for a few moments in between all this I felt complete contempt or disdain for B. Bordering hate. And maybe thats a good thing. Shows me that its important. Shows me I really want it, and that maybe I won't let anything get in my way? I don't know. I guess I'll go to bed now. Try to undo the damage up on the mountain of joy, far far up in the snow, wrapped in longfurred wraps against the cold, so warm that the snow is just a beautiful effect and the angels in synch with the snow, how they tell me to be still and quiet and rest. But to just look out into the vast white glory with the wind and all the future not quite mattering as much as what i'm doing just at the moment of being where i'm suppose to be.

m.

dear m,

I finally seized the day and crafted a bit for Thanksgiving. Not much, as I found selection at the craft store woefully lacking, but still there are some things. My favorite is the vase full of fall grasses. I did go through a fleeting not so long ago in which I shunned all fabricated flowers and greenery, but it occurs to me lately that they contain their own beauty. If they are not tacky, that is. I don’t feel like these are tacky, and in fact, I love the way they spill over, an exuberant mix of deep purples, oranges, browns and greens, and they way they move under the kitchen fan breeze.

We will host Thanksgiving this year, and in the meantime, it occurred to me yesterday evening that I have fewer than 3 weeks to complete several magazine articles. We are all behind. Hmm. So I hope to find this situation inspiring, rather than grim.

But I’m fighting off something… currently, head is fuzzy, muscles ache, perhaps a bit of a cough and sore throat. Possibly pad thai for dinner, made by someone other than me?

When will your next harvest be ready, and did you see this past/final challenge on ProRun? Drawing inspiration from none other than the Getty museum. I thought of you and your mom.

love, penolin

Penolin,

Enclosed, please find a carbon copy of a tale i told to my friend wendy:

once upon a time there was a girl whose eyes shone bright and wide at all that was beautiful in the world. and in those eyes you could see all the wonder and magic that was in that world. and the girl who had such eyes of insight wished more than anything to keep filling her eyes, because it made her eyes happy. And her eyes would not let her rest. They kept her awake at night, filling her mind with dreams of silk ribbons, and soft cable sweaters and delicious treats and strange things like dragon fruit and more mysterious things like kumquats and cinnamon.... and her eyes were contagious to her hands and her ears and her mind- and soon they were touching curious things like silkfloss trees and meditating on words like supercilious, sonorous and spendthrift and saying things like frippery and windwhistle and whirlygig and whowizzle.

and soon her whole being wanted to get up and go to keep seeing, touching, tasting and saying everything, and keep thinking the things with the longtrains of thought or the ones that you blinked and were gone. sometimes those tasted the best...because the world was better when these things were done and they were good and sweet and possibly rose flavored when said aloud. and yet the eyes urged her to look upward and outward, further and further and she knew her journey lay up beyond the mountains, to strange places, to unfamiliar things, where the girl with the wry smile and mischievious glance would see what it would it be like to be alone amidst all these things. and she knew she wanted more than anything to go alone. but there were many things to do before she was with her bicylce, bonnet and basket- sailing past tulips, dark shaded forests, and melancholy falls with her loaf of bread, butter and jam and possibly tea, a journal and her many colored pencils.

so many things to be done that the girl with the eyes of insight lay stuck for a while as the stars shone and the inconstant moon shrunk and sighed back to life again... over and over. when would the time come asked the mind to the more impatient eyes? and all the friends of the girl wished gifts upon her to soar, to roam, to build some ship in which to stay afloat, but to keep journeying upward and outward far over the mountains, into the sky, across the continent. they loved the girl so much that even people who did not know the girl came to love her anyway and call her friend, and they too began to wish the girl goodness and blessings and etsy accounts. because they saw those blazing insightful eyes and the truth of all the need and want those eyes seemed to speak- words like jelly, joy and juju and more serious words like god, transcendent and zeitgiest. they wanted the best for her. and her eyes did too. and the girl stood ready to claim them, but the waiting was hard and sometimes her eyes closed and darkness came, and sometimes the girl was very sad, and very lonely and yet still the mind and the hands and the mouth all rallied when the eyes got tired. they came to the rescue with an aching that made the girl look up into the sky and dream dreams and sing songs. waiting for her eyes to open again and begin to crave and wonder and search all over again.

and her friends with all their eyes could see and dream dreams and wonder with the girl about all that was good and about all that was bad and the girl gave them a wink and a nod and a sometimes smile and the friends began to notice things too-- snowflakes, and fava beans and cider donuts, and they began to say words like, cellar, sensuous, and wonderment, and meditate on words like, delight, melody and holindaese. and the girl with the eyes of insight stood sometimes sleepy, sometimes wide awake. they were all waiting. the eyes, the ears, the mouth and the hands and the mind especially and all the girl had in her heart, to soar upward and outward and she knew because they told her, that her friends would be there when she got back, they would be there waiting for gifts and cheesy souviners and postcards... waiting for the girl to come back and tell them all the places she'd been and all the thoughts she thought and the strange and the curious and the novel and especially how alive the girl was and to see how those eyes shone gratified and content.

and the girl knew she was more than the waiting. more than the cut on her finger and the dust on her feet. more than just the stains on her sweater, or the insulting lack of good tv- she was this radiant spirit and how brilliant she sparkled against the light of the evening sun. and she rested there a while and felt for a moment- infinite- and with all of those things to go forward and know she was not just for a moment, infinite, but forever.

Penolin,

I struggle with God in everyone too- its more that God's image and likeness is in everyone, since you know no one is walking around connected to Him like they should be. Theologically more is needed than even that understanding, because I think it leads us to be harder on ourselves than we ought to be. And maybe it goes to purpose- to see the likeness of God, or people as God's children, doesn't remove elements of truth or judgement from them, or the 'rightness and wrongness' of their actions but instead gives us compassion to their brokenness, and their struggles, and their non-godness and their --'they need jesus today' and so do i? Lends us mercy and patience? Big words. Sometimes so abstracted. But then I also think in dealing with these sorts of things I think, without God's supernatural interference in my life I would be acting selfishly and according to my own purpose and not his anyway. There must be some help he's lending. Sometimes I really do have a tangible feeling that God is giving me something I lack- like patience- kids must test the limit of even divine help, knees to the ground, hands clenched kind of deliver me from my own emotive storm. You have a tough job. You must sometimes lose yourself from the actual amazingness of it- what do you do to step outside of it and laugh and have mercy on these willful infuriating individuals who inflict you with all that is in a man- going about fully minded on being who they are with no assistance, or no knowledge of the balance of freewill and obedience? I don't know how you disarm those finally tuned button-pushing mechanisms that are being formed in your parenthood but by supernatural assistance. And then maybe seeing the parts of them that reflect what it is to be happy, to laugh, to be silly, to find beauty, that must be like taking a walk through the world and finding Gods reflection there too. Totally necessary. It must work in both ways, compassion, acceptance, joy despite the imperfection of it all. Both correction and reproof entwined with mercy.

Anyway, in other news my dad brought home a giant bowl of salsa. I could've used it when I had my chicken quesadilla today (on brownriceflourtortillas)... needed the spice or bite of onions and whatever else is in salsa or guacamole, i wouldve taken that too. But as it is, I guess its here for next time, whenever that will be.

Already I've had too many popsicles and am thinking about what sort of 'greens' i'm going to have for dinner. Due to a lack of greens allday, and most of yesterday. Amber is coming over and we're going to watch '24'- I finished my book too and wonder what i should read next- it may be between: brideshed revisited, red tent, memoirs of Geisha, eat/pray/whatever, or maybe a mystery or a historical novel. I can't decide. I already have a balance of non-fiction i'm reading or too many as the case may be. Perhaps I've entered into a time of reading and all the projects will have to wait. I keep thinking i'm going to run out of netflix but xfiles is going to keep me a bit longer. Well anyway Amber just Im'd me to tell me the mail hasn't arrived yet so she hasn't left yet. I guess I'll go wander outside and sip my sparkling water, think about snacks or something or chocolate icecream.

dear m,

I’ve started so many letters to you in my mind on paper (so to speak), including a potentially fabulous little thing about life lessons learned in yoga. But before I can finish, the bubble of inspiration bursts and no longer is my idea there. You can’t stare at those things too long, much less try to handle them.

I’m putting in my request to the Universe for less emotionality, or at least the freedom or will to choose when and where I overflow. Like frustrations with the petulant, stubborn 2-year-old. It’s not my favorite age, but still, why can’t I be wise enough in a combative moment to realize it’s just a phase and I don’t actually need to mirror said behavior. Why can’t I naturally accept that the item he wishes to handle himself will in fact be squished, spilled or broken, and that ultimately it’s okay. Why can’t I just love him, and shut up about it.

And today I was wrongly cited for a parking ticket—WTF? Penelope does not like to be accused of something she did not do. Particularly when money is involved, even if it is only $10. So the fury was unleashed upon this old lady who wrote up the ticket—tears and swearing may have been involved. But seriously? I literally could not have been in that parking deck when she tagged my tire. The machine does in fact lie. I yelled at her until she said she would tear up the ticket, and later I do feel a little bad about it. But at least I stood up for myself? I don’t know. I do feel I could have been more reasonable and measured in my argument, if not polite. Schmolite.

Oh and the Q-tips in the ears, there’s another thing I could have been less emotional about. They say not to clean out your ears (or should you? why is that subject so murky), and so I didn’t for a long time, but then I did, because I couldn’t stand it any more, and it quickly became a problem. Wednesday night I couldn’t hear out of my right ear, and I made the problem worse by attempting to flush the ear. And then I figured that while I’m irrigating, I might as well try to clean the left one as well, so by Friday morning, I could not hear an effing thing out of either ear. For reals, I believe my hearing was cut by about 50%. Was about to lose it. Perhaps did, a few times, when either mocked or challenged to hear all the little things I normally take for granted. I went to MEDAC to resolve, where they did a proper ear-igation (HA HA HA, get it?) and, as they said, I can now unfortunately (their words, not mine) hear better than I have in a long, long time. A Christmas miracle! I didn’t not enjoy the MEDAC, where I had never been before, but it is currently free through our insurance. Good place to go in a pinch.

Meanwhile (and this isn’t as big a leap as it seems, I swear), I mull the concept of seeing God in every person, and maybe I’m trying too hard, because like a bubble that you can’t stare at or handle too long, it ultimately bursts and is no more.

love, pen

Dear Penelope,

Hellllloooo stranger! Whats up?
I'm still allergic to something- would you believe? Shocking I know. I don't know what it is yet but there have been a couple hot redface and itchy moments that lead me to believe wheat (intolerance/allergy) and dairy (intolerance?) aren't the only things coming up rummy. Whatever, lame, blah blah, detective work, collapse head on desk and drop into a coma. Bor-ing. Cuz you know its like the body on a cellular? level remakes itself completely every 7 years and my body just clicked into a "whole new you" and it was done with whatever it had been putting up with in the years previous... And you and the wax issue? What? I love q-tips in the ears but maybe my canals are initially wide enough to circumvent the issue? Or am I just standing belligerently on the precipice of ignorance and blissfully issue free.

I also got a little sick-ish and coped out of a party on Saturday and most everything else Sunday. I spent today laying on the picnic table reading a book about unearthly powers- primal cultures, western civilization and stared intermittently at finches and warblers hopping around the plants and butterflies and squabbling sparrows. Still, I don't feel particularly motivated to start any of my to-do's. Except puzzling over my back and if its aligned or not...Which brings me to my next absolute ponderance of the holidays.

I didn't even carve a pumpkin. I love carving pumpkins. Sarah even reminded me and my mind really couldn't grasp what was happening. I did end up watching 'The Orphan' that night, and yet still woosh! there it went. I was going to say something more about Thanksgiving and Christmas but I got bored just thinking about it and various dramatic developments and my moms sudden antipathy, but she's a trooper. She held out for some 35 years. Such is my moms patience for people. And apparently one of my aunts asking "what about all that education she received, what is she doing? What has it led to... and ... we never see her? is she "done" with us?"... My mom responded that she was remiss to put words in other peoples mouths regarding their feelings. Mwah. ha. Also, Cathy reminds me I can't climb volcanos every year for Christmas and yet still- I need some contemplation to occur on either how to check out completely or make this 2 months meaningful- fulltime employment aside? Because people are going to ask me and other people are going to behave that this time has some sort of meaning so I feel I should be prepared.

Otherwise I'm going to call it a day and finish watching xfiles s3, think about niacin allergies, and guidebooks to spiritual warfare- hoping I have the wherewithall to make it to yoga tomorrow- I can't venture to say if anything else might await me, but thats the fun unknown part.

Dear Penelope,

as you wish i'm writing to you to tell you about our prayer walk through Ecclesia. Bill, Mick, Aimee and I. Mick asked Simone (she's the one who wanted us to do this) if there was anointing oil- all you really need is olive oil and she had some. He wanted to anoint all the areas we went in, and i said, ok, yes but who's anointing us? It was the first time we've actually systematically sought to cleanse the building of darkness- lets be clear- demons, legion, oppressive spirits. Sort of like when we went on that ghost tour but we actively sought deliverance. In the back of your mind you sort of think, in no way this is real, and yet? The theatre itself is the largest in Hollywood built in 1926, and reported haunted, long before our church took residence and the guards who work there are in no way happy campers when they have to go through the basement or up beyond the 2nd floor, apparently- And as renters none of our community is allowed to venture beyond the "sanctuary" either.

So first things first, each of us in someway had others pray for us, had been in prayer, prior to this- a sort of confession, cleansing prayer like, Lord forgive me for this and definitely for That and please help me to be of use to you, worthy... and all the rest. Also this same day we had adult baptisms - do you renounce satan and all his ways? And Mick and I prayed a brief blessing over them after they got dunked in our coy pond cutout. I've never been in a role before to have taken things like these so deadly serious. Earlier I'd prayer walked over the sanctuary and had been amped up and apprehensive to go for it and prayer walk in this cleansing and resistance way and was sort of chomping at the bit to get this thing going, had for days previous had trouble falling asleep for thoughts of the basement.

We finally circled the wagons and Mick blessed each of us in the rite : in the name of the father, son and holyspirit... i prayed the prayer from ephesians: 10Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. 11Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. 12For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. 13Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand...
We climbed the stairs to the 2nd floor, armed only with a flashlight as most of the lights weren't on and prayed through verses and our thoughts and then occasionally from room to room, up through the balcony, singing, loudly. It was a good thing they remembered all these songs. I didn't. It makes me smile to think of it, and if I didn't believe what I believe I wouldhave thought us foolish or insane. As it was we didn't really have a game plan, but then I feel, we didn't have to. And even mentioning what we've gone through there is a definite disconnect. No one gets it or can sympathize, no one really understands, how much it seems a vivid nightmare to me. There was one particular room that effected me more than the others. It was empty and strangely shaped, like a rectangle bent in half and shaved down, painted this awful mint color. There was a dark antique chair to the left and to the right layers of dust, the light was on in this room. Mick got in the room and said, "what do we think about this room?" And the room to all effects started to grab at me and I gave a thumbs down sign. Mick said, "why don't you start us off." (in prayer) I said, "give me a minute". I closed my eyes. I was having a hard time speaking as I took a deep inhale and exit. Aimee had hold of my left arm, and i felt something cold just below her grip, and I felt a terrible sense of oppression and sadness that I actually started to cry- the idea that this is what people are surrounded and enslaved by... Mick and Bill must have sensed something too as they put their hands on me as well and we all prayed. I opened my eyes surprised to find the light in the room on, so dark it still seeemed. And after that we just kept going up, floor after floor thru bathrooms, and niches, and hallways, all the way to the roof, lamenting over hollywood and for the world.

And we had already sensed how thourough we were being, but were on this inevitable course, feeling in varying degrees tired, and consumed, but Aimee and I had a very strong feeling that we had to keep going to the basement. Mick gave us an out, Bill had to leave, but we decided to keep going.

Down into the belly of the beast.
As big as a block. Not just one room. But an entire world.
The first impression is the sound coming from the boiler room, or fan system? or whatever it is but its a very loud churning sound and produces a great amount of air flow down the hallway so that there's a breeze that seemingly comes from no where. We started off in a room with a low pipe hanging through it and i could feel the door tremoring against my hand. I had through the whole thing a distinct impression i was to hold all the doors open for us to pass through. The 2nd room was an old dressing room, still had the mirrors and the lights, now discarded seats from the theatre, the stars dressing room. I put the sign of the cross on the door and my finger was blackened with grime. Then down the hallway we got to a room with the stench of decay, moldering seats, rotting boards and tables- if i were the psychic type i would have said that there was an older man in a white shirt and brown pants underneath this one working light above the table- this room had to have been the saddest room of all.

We then reached the main mechanical room and thats when we started hearing rumbling from above, popping sounds from the pipes and Aimee and I both put on guard as it seemed the place was now awake to our presence. Though conversely i felt warmly protected through the rest of it, no hair raised, no cold on the back of the neck, though a hard pressure on my back, and all the thoughts just rolled right on through- you know the ones i mean, like, run screaming, or, this is impossible or i hope our light doesn't go out or i hope the door doesn't swing shut or I hope these boxes don't fall on us bcs of an 'earthquake' ensuring that we'll never be discovered or rescued, or i hope we aren't eaten alive or i hope whatever is down here doesn't latch onto us, or i hope i don't see a face or a body or whatever it is i could see that would set me running down the hall death griped with fear.

I had a very sure sense that we were being allowed to see but not necessarily to overtake. We went up a set of stairs and turned to see this hallway stretching a literal block, in pitch black, and i thought, oh my god, how vast is the darkness, how are we going to find our way out?- door after door, ladders, traps, rooms, gated off areas, stuff, all with a tangible aura of making you want to shake and hurl up your lunch. I said facing one pitchblack room full of boxes floor to ceiling, "are we going in there?" Mick responded, "well I'm going in there"... and then i said, "then we're all going in there." There was one room besides that I literally felt we were interrupting a nest of demons mid lunch- like you know the gag where the people who are clean and sparkly wearing pearls walk into the seedy bar and the music stops and the conversation comes screeching to a halt and they all look up with a WTF? Thats sort of how some of the rooms felt. And once we reached the end of the hallway I started reciting Psalms 23 and we rounded the corner and opened this large steel door into a dark room, down these steps "and ye though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death" creeeeeaaak went the door, thud thud echoed our footsteps "i shall fear no evil"...

We made it out of the basement shortly afterthat with more singing and more praying through the back of the stage and out into the sanctuary. Aimee and I laid down on the platform and suddenly realized that as we prayed blessing and protection over us we were being soaked at the shoulders with the baptismal water... that life giving water of being dead to sin and alive in Christ. And we woke up a bit and were aware of how accustomed to the dark you can become and that it was a surprise to me particularly that we'd been praying through the building for 3 hours... So then we went out and ate a little something and debriefed and talked about our impressions, confirmations and thoughts. And for the last few nights I've felt a palpable haunting of me about where i'd been and what i'd seen as if i what i had looked through and witnessed were not just meer spaces or abandoned places but some other place entirely that this barely even describes. Though fully armored, safe and sure of it- It is literally the scariest place I have ever been.