15
Why Bother?
Letter to Ascended Master
St. Padre Pio,
Friday, August 19, 2011
6: 50 A. M.
Dear Padre,
You did tell me after the spiritual healing that you gave me that I would write more from the heart now than from the mind, which you said would be how I would connect with my reader, but whether what I write is from the heart or mind I have to ask you—something that has been brewing from the day those foul karmic winds began to blow into my life, leading to the unexpected loss of my tooth and leaving me in a state of inner turmoil—a very pertinent question: why bother?
I’ve devoted the best energies of my life to finding my true self, and I was blessed to awaken to the Way—the mysterious River of God that flows through life that you also awakened to by living la via di sofferenza (which is why we have a meeting of minds) — and I devoted my best creative energies to demystifying the Way for my reader with every book that I write, but I ask you again: why bother?
When you were alive, you devoted every ounce of your energy to serving Jesus in his mission to bring souls back home to God, saying the daily Mass which people came from everywhere to witness, such was the spiritual intensity of your Masses, and listening to over one hundred confessions daily (people were given numbers, there were so many who wanted to confess their sins to you, and it has been estimated that you heard five million confessions in your lifetime!), and still you prayed to do more for the love of Jesus and your fellow man—which you did by initiating the project of a new hospital which you called a House for the Relief of Suffering—and still you wanted to do more because your love to serve was so great that you could never do enough; but I can’t help but ask the question: why bother?
The more I experience life—what I witness on television and the daily news and life around me—the more I am forced to agree with what the great Spiritual Master Rebazar Tarzs said to Paul Twitchell: “As you grow older in your observations of the peoples of the Earth world, it becomes more noticeable that stupidity is the reigning virtue.”
In principle, I know you would agree with this comment; but having experienced you for an hour and a half once a month for ten months I know that you would also say, “Yes, that’s one interpretation.” And then you would proceed to inform me of the goodness of man, which would then soften my hardened and inflexible view and pry my heart open a little more; but you know what, Padre? I really don’t know why I should bother.
You saw results from your service to Jesus and your fellow man—despite all the flak that you got from those who resented your spiritual gifts—by the love and affection of your “spiritual family,” but my world is barren of this goodness that comes with service. Which can mean one of two things: either my heart is not pure, or my time has not yet come.
Let’s look at the first. Is my heart pure in my intent? I’ve always wanted to write, and I write about my life experiences—with a liberal use of the imagination; but do I write for myself, or to serve my fellow man by passing on the wisdom of my own spiritual quest?
In all honesty, the very thought offends me that I am writing for pure selfish reasons, because I vowed that I would pass on the wisdom of my own spiritual quest simply because I KNOW how hard it is to find the Way and I simply want to make the search easier for the seeker. That is the raison d’être of my writing life—to help the seeker awaken to the Way. But I cannot help but wonder: why bother?
I’ve experienced this feeling before, Padre. In fact, “old whore life” pushed me to the point once where I climbed on my platform and shouted: “Let the world find its own way!” And in an ironic way, you confirmed this when you told me “life is a journey of the self.”
If life is an individual journey, then why bother? Everyone has to find their own way through the labyrinthine tunnels of their own karma, and we can give them all the Ariadne’s string in the world, but it won’t mean a damn thing—because “life is a journey of the self.” So, why bother?
I read a book a couple of weeks ago about a Roman Catholic who could no longer suffer the indignities of her faith—the same indignities that I suffered in my belief in eternal damnation and that salvation was only possible through Jesus Christ and the “one true Church”—and I experienced this woman’s spiritual anguish as she wrestled her soul free from these false doctrines, which only goes to prove your truth that “life is a journey of the self,” and I have done everything in my power—which I am still doing, with these letters to you—to awaken my reader to the eternal saving grace of the Way, which is everywhere to be found; but again I ask, why bother?—because no one’s listening!
I know, I know; you told me to speak only to those who have ears for what I have to say, but where in the hell are these people? I can’t help but feel that the whole world is deaf to what I have to say!
You told me it would take three years for the ripple effect to reach out and touch the people who would hear what I have to say, and it’s only been a little over one year now since you told me this; so, am I impatient? And why should I believe you? Am I supposed to have blind faith in you?
I know you did everything you could to bolster my confidence, by showing my yet-to-be published books to my spiritual sensitive, and that I should commit myself to getting them out there (especially my novel Jesus Wears Dockers, which my spiritual sensitive felt was the main reason why I was having those spiritual healing sessions—to get that book out there), but since that foul karmic wind blew into my life, I can’t help but ask: why bother?
Last night, sleeping alone in our big king size bed because Penny went up north to attend her niece’s wedding and visit with her father, I almost came to tears because I could have poured more energy into making Penny’s life a little more financially secure, and I had to ask myself whether all of my creative efforts to demystify the Way were worth it.
I broke the code of the sayings of Jesus, which is why you want to see my novel Jesus Wears Dockers out there, but why bother Padre? You told me that a little worry is good, that it keeps one sharp on and edge, but I tell you that the anxiety wrought by the struggle to survive with dignity is not worth the bother of the commitment to serve life—and yet, I know it has to be this way because service is the ultimate goal of life. God, what a conundrum!
But I do have one reader who loves my writing and believes in me, and you can guess who that is—Penny Lynn, the love of my life; and thank God for her belief in me, or I would have given up long ago. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have my novels My Unborn Child and Keeper of the Flame out there seeking to find their readers. They may not have connected yet, but at least they’re out there, and that’s all that matters.
I guess when all is said and done—and I am through with all this moaning and groaning—I have to just bow my head and keep butting at life until I either smash my skull or break through to the other side where all of the karmic rewards for my service to life are waiting for me. What did Henley say in his poem Invictus?
“In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.”
I guess what it comes down to is that these foul karmic winds (“the fell clutch of circumstance”) are bound to blow through our life every so often because our journey is all about spiritual resolution, so we really have no choice but to hold our course through the tempests; but I don’t mind confessing, Padre, it can get quite fatiguing.
I remain,
A very tired companion,
Orest
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