My views seem to be evolving.

I find I am less gnostic. I am still well outside of what would be deemed orthodox but I feel like Gnosticism isn't a good pigeonhole.

I'm leaning more toward an older notion I had very early in this journey, of trying to recreate something in the spirit of a Christianity as it would have been before certain late antique obsessions with legalism ruined it. But rather than troubling myself with trying to tease out the precise original doctrine, I will trust that in Scripture the Spirit of the Word has survived even if the Letter of the Word has been corrupted by the world (if you want to know just how corrupted, please read "Misquoting Jesus" by Bart D. Ehrman. It's written from an atheist perspective but it's incisive and shows just how many changes were made to the texts over time).

My Christianity is based less on scriptural legalism and more on striving for benevolence, humility, piety, justice, wisdom, and generosity. And I find that while I do believe in sin and salvation (which is somewhat outside of most gnostic theology) my views on it are very different, and concerned more with the harm done by a particular sin than by the nature of the sin per se. I also believe that it is given to some to prophesy, and that the mystic should be cherished as part of the body of believers, not shoved aside like a loose end as we were in the churches I grew up in. But I am also unimpressed with the gaudy showmanship that passes for "prophecy" in the charismatic churches certain of my relatives went to.

All that being said, what this means exactly for the future of this group remains to be seen. I don't know what my future with the gnostic church will be. I don't know if there is even a name for what I'm pursuing. But when I'm honest with myself, it's not really Gnosticism any more.

It may be that I will continue my studies with the gnostic church as there still seems to be something to learn from them. But there may come a time when I have been ordained when I may retreat into the work of describing a theology that accords more strongly with my beliefs.

Dear Friends,

Around May of last year I began to fall out of love with my path. I'd had this feeling grow within me for a long time.

I also got sucked in by the chaos in the world around me. I began to feel like my work with the church was a waste of time. I think the moment this hit hardest was when there were some tense protests downtown and I wondered if I shouldn't have been down there in the thick of it instead of serving in the mass. I felt like I wasn't helping anyone by what I was doing.

Thereafter the flaws and shortcomings of others in the church became a bigger annoyance to me. And so, some months ago (around June of last year, I think) I walked away. I said I was going to come back but truth be told, I didn't think I was going to.

So I spent some time out in the world. I got more connected with the far left. I had a brief flirtation with going full-on tankie. Took me a while but I realized there were some rubbish people in that set. DON'T GET ME WRONG: I'm still pretty far left politically (at least by American standards). I just feel like that particular section is so paranoid and so lost in the narcissism of small differences among its members that it's not helpful to be involved in that particular strain of revolutionary left-wing politics.

Then last month I began to feel my old path stirring in me for so long. And I began to realize that even within the context of a Christian ministry there is so much opportunity for direct action! Do you know, in some places it's a crime to feed the hungry? Do you know how much interference from state and local laws prevents us from housing the homeless? Loving the unloved- and I mean actively manifesting that love through meaningful action- was and still is a radical act.

During my meditations at The Grotto in Portland I stumbled on a bas relief of Jesus before Pilate. Upon Pilate's throne was the Fasces, the symbol of Roman state power and the root of the word "Fascism." It really struck home. Again I began to reflect on Jesus the man, Jesus the compassionate rebel, and the early church and their spirit and defiance to unjust authority. I followed the Stations of the Cross. I genuflected at each station where He fell (at the third of these I did not spare my knees a hard jolt either). And at the final station I paused, meditated, and prayed a moment.

But my ideas and the focus of my actions didn't come into play until a few days after. A friend of mine experience his own personal gnosis and it was rough going. I was the first one he told about it because he knew I had been there myself and wouldn't dismiss him. He was hospitalized for a bit as a precaution but thankfully they found he was fit to leave. He speaks to me with a hope and understanding I've never seen in him before. He was an atheist a few months ago. I did not proselytize or preach to him to change his mind.

And I came to realize that there are a lot of us who have that moment, and it's difficult. It changes how we see ourselves, our lives, and the world around us and it makes a "normal" life difficult because that's the last thing we want. And if I can, through my ministry, give some comfort and aid to the seers, the mystics, the Wounded Healers and the shamans that our society casts aside, then my greatest fear- wasting my time when I could be helping others- will be reassured.

And so here I am. Back after a long, strange trip. I still don't know how I'm going to continue this work but at least now I know what my ministry is meant to be.

Sorry for the belated post! A longer post will be placed in the submissions, but in this post I will include direct links to the passages cited:

The Acts of John:
http://gnosis.org/library/actjohn.htm

The Second Treatise of the Great Seth:
http://www.gnosis.org/naghamm/2seth-barnstone.html

The Gospel of Nicodemus:
http://www.gnosis.org/library/gosnic.htm

Binah, Chokmah, and Kether:
https://hermetic.com/caduceus/qabalah/047_kab

This Easter season has been very restorative to me and has helped me re-commit to the path I began. I have remained true, I have rekindled the spark, and I will keep the light until the day when light becomes me.

Coinciding with the season of Passover (mercy) and the season of Ostara (rebirth), Holy Week is an auspicious season.

It is a time for bearing in mind the process of renewal, the sort of renewal that lifts occlusion when the darkest veils are cast over our heads.

Now we mourn, but our mourning will soon pass. A new day is dawning soon. Hope, though hidden, shrouded from our view like the buried dead, yearns for the promised resurrection.

We recognize then that it is we who killed the Son of Man, it is we who rolled the stone before His tomb, it is we who raised Him and we who rolled the stone away. Our own damnation and redemption are the dance we dance, in consort with opposing powers like Shiva. If we are guided by mercy, then rebirth is assured.

I am going through a difficult time. The fear, the pain, the confusion are real. But I hold in my heart that they will pass, as sure as Good Friday will pass and Easter Sunday will come. I hope that all who are suffering, like me, will find the same hope and strength within as the year turns through this season of mercy and rebirth.

Hello all,

The Gnostic path is not a path of blind certainties. It is a path of constant challenges and deep thought about one's devotion to the path.

I believe it's a mistake not to ask where you are from time to time. The sages called it "wandering the desert."

I've been wandering that desert. Once again the call to politics has sounded for me, only this time much louder. Considering my entire spiritual path up to this point has been spent largely avoiding activism, and political activism is not the best fit for the Gnostic position, I've been learning how to integrate this new, politically-charged world into my path and how to sate both sides of my nature instead of suppressing my political side.

I refuse to mix my spiritual path with my politics, but instead I will find harmony between them. After all, when lives are at stake would it not be better, once I am a priest, to use my position to help others?

I've also been dealing with severe depression from a lost job, a rocky path toward the end of my transition, and the prolonged illness and death of my cat who died at roughly 19 1/2 years of age on Friday.

But I want to warm this account up again. I want to get back on the wagon and share my meditations again. I want to keep what is very likely the furry fandom's only dedicated gnostic enclave from slipping into total irrelevance.

I need to come forward about something.

One of the things really vexing me is that I can't make a living off being clergy in my church. We have a very small congregation and our coffers are honestly just enough to sustain the church itself with a few minor splurges for new fittings and fixtures here and there. We're part of a small denomination and each parish is extremely DIY and while we're not averse to growth, we don't want to grow for the sake of growing or become a cash cow for our clergy because that'd disrespect our entire purpose.

The good news is, because no one's in it for the money, my instruction (which is more an apprenticeship with a structured reading list with journals to help us develop our own exegesis of the material) is free of charge. Even the books are, for the most part, on loan from our bishop at no cost. I can, of course, buy some of my own books and equipment if I choose (and I've already bought a couple of books that seemed very useful) but if I can't afford them, they are provided for me.

The bad news is, I can't really give this the attention I would like to because I am forever distracted by the business of making a living, or trying to figure out how I'll get well enough to deal with juggling both church business and a day job. The last job I worked had me stretched to the breaking point trying to do that and I'm currently trying to recover from a major decompensation I had due to the resulting stress.

So I have a proposal, and I wanted to run this by people. I would like to start a GoFundMe to essentially become a mendicant.

A mendicant is a person who pursues their spiritual practice while being supported by charitable donations. It is something that used to be common in the west many centuries ago and is still common practice in many parts of Asia. Once upon a time, people like me who really didn't "fit" outside of an ascetic profession would have had this as their only lifeline. Nowadays, it's hard for a mystic to survive; most have to sell their services in some way, or learn some craft that can make them a living; the ones who can't usually end up living under bridges or going through a mental health care system that fails them at every turn because it can't understand them as anything but a problem to be solved.

The truth is, I've had this idea for years but I was afraid to bring it up because people get really cynical when you start asking for donations to take up a profession that doesn't actually produce any material wealth. I'm still not sure it's a good idea to ask.

I can offer some guidelines of good faith though, to show that I'm not just sponging and that I am actually working toward the priesthood like I say I am. For starters, I can make my reading notes publicly available so that my supporters can see that I am actually doing my studies. And of course, I would be obligated to work toward my goal and to post my progress as I moved through the various orders.

Honestly, this is the only thing I can really think of sticking with long-term, aside from writing, that doesn't make me sick with dread.

Any thoughts on this, though? Is it a terrible idea? Are there ways I can make sure that people know I'm not just freeloading and that I am, in fact, actually spending my time just as I said I would?

Every so often, an event comes along that makes you question what you're doing in life.

The unexpected outcome of this year's election was such an event. For the first 96 hours or so, I was running on pure adrenaline, barely eating or sleeping. I went full-on prepper within 24 hours and dropped about $300 on survival gear.

I attended one of the protest marches in downtown Portland, and saw a small group of agitators who seemed to all have their own agenda turn a peaceful protest into a riot. When the police used flash-bang grenades, I was surprised by my reaction: I didn't start having painful flashes of my earlier life in WWI. Instead I felt strangely invigorated, so high on my own endorphins that I swear, if I had been shot, I wouldn't have felt it.

Suddenly it came to me how I did it back then, how I went over at Ypres and faced artillery and machine gun fire. I felt something light on within my being that I hadn't felt in more than a hundred years, and everything leading up to that moment came into sharp focus. When I was able to assess the situation while under duress and realized I wasn't facing any real danger that I couldn't extricate myself from by running for it, the riot cops didn't faze me at all. But I also realized that if I did have to face real danger, I could.

So I pondered my options for either joining or starting a guerilla resistance movement. I thought hard about it. I even tried to ping some friends to see how interested they might be while not saying exactly what the long-term plans were, though I ultimately backed down for a number of reasons.

So before trying to find an existing group, I stepped aside and began thinking hard about what I was doing and why.

Ultimately what I came to was the simple fact that I felt like putting my energy into the church wasn't enough, that I was somehow depriving a struggling guerilla movement by not being actively involved.

I thought about how the church could feel like just another white liberal fish tank at times, and how long it would be to really make a difference.

But then I realized several things.

First, our church is a safe space. We do not judge or turn away anyone who is capable of sitting through the mass without causing undue disruption or being generally threatening, divisive, or waving their prejudices around. We're civil, welcoming people whom I have never once seen to discriminate. I've also been assured that my transgender status will not prove any sort of barrier toward ordination. That in and of itself makes this a rare jewel as churches go and a positive presence in a city with so many LGBT folk.

Second, I've found that even when the white liberal fish bowl hits a blind spot, it's not really difficult to point out the blind spot if I'm civil and explain the situation properly. They listen. They respond. They understand probably better than any group I've been with that there are many sides to a story. These days, people who are just willing to listen can seem like a rare treasure.

Third, I realized this: Karma is not simply the ripples from the stones you threw, but your tendency to throw stones in the first place. But this means we have the free will to change our ways. I am a warrior by karma; this much I know. But karma is not destiny. If I hold a stone in my hand and I have not thrown it yet, I can set it down by the riverside. I cast no more ripples than I must this way.

Finally, it isn't like my courage under fire will necessarily be wasted. If it becomes well-known after my ordination that I'm a transgender priest, there are people who would kill me for that. There are people who might be willing to come into the church and cause trouble if they discover we're a safe space, too; much like the Brown Shirts in 1930s Germany, we may soon see Neo-Nazi sympathizers marching into any safe space they can find just to prove a point that no one is safe from them. It's already kind of happening. They feel genuinely threatened when hate is no longer welcome as part of the conversation. I have to be willing to stand up to them and show them the door if they march in and start sieg-heiling in the middle of the Eucharist. And even if these possibilities are remote, they are things that have happened at various times in various places around the world.

And so I will not leave the church to pursue a guerrilla resistance movement. I will live a life of non-aggression, friendship, and compassion. But do not assume that I am afraid to defend myself, or to die to save others.

A final thought: When I wrote "The Vimana Incident," I was really writing a part of myself when I wrote Godric of Hereford, my plucky heretical 12th century canon. Like Godric, I live in a time when the leadership of my country is under growing dispute and tensions are running high. And I suppose my lived experience will be as helpful in telling Godric's full story once I have the chance as Godric's place in my psyche will be in helping me chart a course forward.

Given that I have seen how multiple lives can layer temporally in non-linear time, so that they appear to be running the same course with minor changes to reflect some illusion of time over spans of hundreds of years, perhaps there's some truth to Godric's existence after all. Maybe he's the half-remembered remnant of a medieval life I've lived. Certainly, I feel a strange sort of warm familiarity when I serve during the mass and I have a strong attraction to the ascetic life. Perhaps I'm simultaneously living during the 12th century Anarchy in England and living a life along a similar course; or perhaps this is all just the passing fancy of a writer with too much imagination. I really don't know.

Whatever it is, it would seem that I've written this story already, whether in another life or simply in my own mind. And the way I wrote it involves walking away from the battlefield and going into the church, and comes with no regrets whatsoever.

Adsum, Domine.

So, I will probably reflect on this a bit more in coming entries, but here's a synopsis of what's been going on.

The Gnostic journey is not an easy one. In gathering the scraps of light left in this crazy existence, we sometimes stumble and drop what we've gathered, and if we don't remember what we've gathered so far we can fall into total despair and despondency.

Well, friends, I fell into despair for a good while after Sandra's death. It wasn't the only thing going on though. It was just one of several catalysts that snatched the rug out from under me and left me fumbling in the dark for a very long time.

I hate to admit this, but at one point I was so convinced of the pointlessness of everything I'd done that I nearly took my own life.

It took some deep reflection and a chance to really open up to people I trust with these issues before I started to heal. And slowly, I've begun to feel as if I can carry on emotionally (even if a month of severe depression has left me feeling like a mess physically).

Let me get back to everyone in the near future. I'm still trying to decide how much of this very personal journey to share since it does go more into past lives than I care to really talk openly about. I try not to make this all about where I've been in other bodies, after all! This is about where I am here and now, and (if anyone should come forward) for others as well to share their journey.

With the events in the world (and particularly in the US) of late, I've been vexed.

A large part of me still wants to fall back on old impulses. "Stockpile supplies and weapons in case the shit hits the fan!" says one impulse. "Get a passport and leave the country!" says another.

And you know what? In my time I've done both. I admit it. I've had guns and camping supplies at the ready before, especially in the early 2010s when I was heavy into radical politics. And in the early 2000s, I actually fled the country because I was seriously scared after the media and voting public completely failed to question the rationale for the war in Iraq.

And going back further, it's been fight or flight right the way back. It's a deep karmic rut that I haven't been able to escape for several lifetimes.

But now this extraneous element has shown itself in my life. The church I got involved in. The church that needs me. The church that I am doing extremely well in and am very happy with. The church that gave me a path to answer the call to ministry just as I am and didn't ask me to be someone I'm not.

I'm doing extremely well in my training, after all. I'm learning the mass rapidly, quicker than any of the other servers currently in our congregation. I'm a natural at this. Even the divinations I've consulted point me back to this path when I ask about the alternatives. If there is such a thing as destiny, I've found mine.

And yet, the old urges come back. To fall prey to paranoia. To fall back on old habits that never really served me. To flee without thinking of the people I'll leave behind, the people I now have some responsibility toward.

I know I must be the billionth person to have experienced this tension between an enlightened path and a deep karmic tendency. My experience cannot be unique. And yet, I feel so alone in it sometimes.

It doesn't help that the divinations I've gotten haven't told me that staying with the church will be easier, only a better decision. Truth be told, they spoke of a path riddled with major sacrifices. And in an age where the stakes of geopolitics run so high, I'm painfully aware that the stakes could be choosing the life of a pacifist at the worst possible time. I will not fool myself into thinking that noninvolvement in extreme action and non-attachment to political movements makes me unaffected by what happens.

I'm staring down the prospect of living the life of a saint, and everything that comes with it. I'm not too far down the path to turn back but I'm far enough down this rabbit hole that I'll have to live with the shame of knowing better if I renege on this, and the consequences of a karmic burden that I refused to shed.

So, will the myrtle I saw in my dream three years ago (the beautiful, large old plant which grew in the place of a war memorial in the town where I was born in my WWI life) grow and flourish, or will I allow it to starve and let another cold stone monument be placed upon it?

Domine,
Custodi me ad te,
Ut custodiant te ad cor meum.
Et myrtum plantabis ibi crescant.

Lord,
Keep me unto thee,
As I have kept thee in my heart.
And Let the myrtle you have planted there grow.

Since we have a small church and have had to make concessions for people not being available at certain times, and since we've lost Sandra who did a lot of small but important things around the chapel, I've found myself in an increasingly important role in the life of our church.

Just reading through the curriculum, most of what I need to satisfy is the reading and writing portion; by the time I'll be eligible to be made a deacon (one of the higher orders), I'll have already had a deacon's experience since I'm filling a number of roles at once. I've managed to memorize most of my part in the mass, which almost none of our servers have ever done this fast (I give partial credit to my experience in the theatre for being able to learn my lines, actions, and positions quickly).

Generally, the overall vibe I get is that I'll make priesthood quite easily once I've read all the required material and satisfied the wait periods. You have to wait 6 months between advancing levels so it's a program that will run a minimum of five years even for someone like me who has learned their responsibilities early.

Still... it's happening. And although I must confess I am very concerned about my future if I stay in the US, I'm trying to screw my courage to the sticking place as it were and keep with this. I'm doing this for the love of a truth beyond petty politics.

There's been a death in our church. Since we're a small congregation, one of our servers will be on vacation overseas, and the lady who died did a lot for us in her spare time, I may be very busy for a while.

Sandra was very sweet and very much a part of our community. Things are going to be disrupted in a big way without her, though she had been in poor health and her passing was not unexpected.

I served for the first time at the altar today.

It was generally agreed that I had done very well at this, and that my inexperience didn't detract at all from the general flow of energy.

Quite likely, I've done this in lifetimes before, though I don't remember where or when.

Or maybe I never did it before. Maybe I just have a natural instinct and enthusiasm that comes from someone eager to find a new area of focus. At least, it seems to be helpful, for what it's worth.

Yeah, I'm still a dirty furry with my own vices, but they don't care; as our bishop likes to say, they don't look for perfection, but wholeness. The Gnostic take on morals is pretty similar to the Buddhist one: avoid severe misconduct but don't worry that every little thing is going to send you to Hell. And for what it's worth, I'm less debauched than I used to be, but that was more of a personal change that came from no longer feeling like it was really helpful to spend so much energy looking for good times; nobody told me to live this way, I just had to reach a point in my life where my priorities shifted and it came naturally.

Long story short, I have a future in this church I guess. The change has been good for me and has worked so well with the organic changes I was already going through that I'm probably in it to stay.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/armin....._10799414.html

You may be asking yourself why I'm worried about what's happening in Russia or Kazakhstan.

Well, there are a number of factors:

1. Vladimir Putin and his policies have a lot of fans in the US and Europe, both among ordinary people and among politicians. Apparently, according to my father's observations, there are some Alt Right-affiliated groups here in the US right now that have pledged their allegiance to him and have his portrait up in their meeting halls. There is a very good chance that we could soon fall under his sphere of influence if the Alt Right has their way. Even if we are not directly under their influence, if even a few countries outside the former Soviet Union follow suit, we'll have a situation where these sorts of policies have become the norm globally, and that's not good.

2. Fears of terror attacks are at an all-time high, so much so that people are willing to consent to all kinds of stupid laws under the guise of their own safety. Already we have extrajudicial kidnappings, espionage, and murders. How long before a major terror attack causes that to mushroom into even more problems? In my story "Repair Console," I predicted that some time in the 21st century, a General Religions Act would be passed in the US which would basically outlaw everything but mainline Protestant, Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and Jewish groups. It would be touted primarily as a means of punishing Muslims, but it would be enforced arbitrarily against groups considered inconvenient by the state.

3. The church I am involved in has services in a home chapel. Services in homes are precisely the sort of thing that is being targeted in the former Soviet republics.

4. The Gnostic tradition includes many groups that are the subject of the sort of conspiracy theories very popular among the Alt Right. Among my acquaintances are a host of esoteric types, and although I am not a member of an esoteric group (Ecclesia Gnostica is exoteric meaning we have no secret initiatory orders), I am concerned that paranoia will eventually spill over. My lot's thrown in and I'm not going to assume that any anti-Esoteric movement is somebody else's problem.

Let me be clear: I'm not going to cut and run. I am done running. I will take whatever consequences come my way for the path I have chosen and, in the spirit of those who came before, I will be faithful and steadfast against all threats. But I would much rather not have to worry that these sorts of policies might become the norm globally.

I have been very busy and probably won't be uploading anything for a little while, though I have some good news.

I was very fortunate to land a job a little while ago, after many years unemployed. For now, I'm doing menial work. I was moved from a job stocking shelves to a job as a cleaner.

I have discovered that far from being the distraction from my spiritual development that I thought it would be, I have found a way to make this work an asset.

It has already taught me a great deal about dignity, in lessons I hope to expound on in future posts. I've waxed a little bit on the topic on my personal FA page  threetails.

I have also learned how to turn my work into a sort of meditation. I find that as I'm working, I meditate on both the Buddhist and Christian contempt for superficial glamor. The gospels, in their original Greek, describe Jesus as a Tekton, which is not a "carpenter" in the sense that we think of it; a Tekton was a sort of all-around handy man, doing all the back-breaking, dirty little jobs around your farm or home, making a pittance more like what a homeless day laborer makes these days. And so my meditation has turned toward the role of humbleness, and toward what it means (from a Gnostic point of view) to live in imitatio Christi.

Monks and nuns in nearly every monastic tradition also have to do their share of chores; in fact my life of late has become very monastic; during the day I do simple, honest work; in the evenings I write, or study, and on my days off lately I've been at the church apprenticing in holy orders. And when I realized that my life had become quasi-monastic, I found great joy and satisfaction for my yearning to be an ascetic. I don't need an abbey because I have found a way to make the whole world my abbey and I'm overjoyed that this has come to me.

For some months before, I had been meditating on Luke 12:22-31 (LINK). I had been in a tremendous amount of despair because I didn't have the financial stability and certainty I needed to really take my spiritual development to the next level. I worried that if I got a job, it would be so stressful and humiliating that I would not be able to focus on anything but trying to get my anxiety down to a manageable level. But I decided, for once, to try not worrying about these things and see what happened.

So was I rewarded by the very hand of a God above God who chose to reward my devotion to this path? Probably not in the most literal way. The pure principle that we think of when we think of "God" is weak here, in these lower realms. But I've been in such a joyous mind about the outcome of things that I don't really care. And ultimately, as a Gnostic I can't say that God wasn't in it because, in the course of tending to the divine spark which I believe is in me and in every living thing, I found a way to get precisely what I needed. A path has opened up before me and it is becoming easier by the day to devote myself to the path I've chosen. So long as the path remains open and it does not lead to a situation that no good can possibly come of, I will follow it. I will strive to live the life of a Gnostic saint.

This doesn't mean that something bad can't happen and take it all away, but I've decided that it's better not to worry any more. I'll still keep my ear to the ground, and I'm not becoming so uninvolved in my own life that I'll let a tragedy happen, but I won't make myself sick worrying if everything I have will be here tomorrow because I know that life is so much more than that. I still fear pain, privation, sickness, injury, and death (what living thing doesn't?), but I have made up my mind not to let those fears rule me any more.

It's times like this I'm sad that our church is too small to pay its clergy; I would much rather do this for a living. On the other hand, it weeds out the gold diggers. You're left with a few very passionate people.

I went in for training in serving during the Eucharist. Anyone familiar with a Catholic mass would probably recognize most of the elements involved (though we differ sharply in our interpretation of the rite's significance and incorporate elements of the Eastern church as well).

I find I'm picking it up quickly and really enjoying the work far more than my day job.

It's a strange sort of situation though. I never thought it'd be me doing this, let alone getting as into it as I am. I guess having that contemplative moment and a space where I can really embrace a part of myself that I denied for so long has helped me center a bit more, which is a welcome change.

But it's more than that. You come out of it feeling that it's more than the sum of its parts. Maybe that's the emergent Ruah at the heart of the Mystery, or just an experience of ecstatic liminality tickling some lobe of the brain... but who's to say they aren't essentially the same thing? Who's to say that rather than a ghost in a machine, we aren't really a ghost through a machine, an essentially mechanical conduit through which a tiny sliver of the Divine manifests in some beautiful, elegant uplink, like connecting from a terminal to the cloud?

I find I'm less bothered by such questions with each passing day though. I love it because it's a thing of beauty, especially the uncanny bits that aren't simply knowing when to kneel and when to get this cruet or that censer.

As of today, I am formally recognized as a lay server in Ecclesia Gnostica. This is the entry level of minor orders and the first step on the path to priesthood.

This has been a really fascinating journey so far, and yet it's only just beginning. I still have many years of service before I can enter the higher orders of the church.

After I had taken communion, I had a vision of millions of candles all lit around the world; they weren't lit for me, but for the Church Universal, which is greater than any building, denomination, even greater than Christendom. They were the candles of every thoughtful, joyful, hopeful, and compassionate soul that was praying to something higher than its own ego.

It's funny; for most of my life I never really felt the need to be part of something bigger than myself. But the deep and personal understanding that I already am, and have been since long before the day my thread of consciousness first differentiated itself from the Pleroma, really puts everything in a new light.

I still get upset, impatient, irritable, angry, and all these things that come with ego; but that ego seems to be less in conflict with the bigger picture, and I find that life has become objectively easier since I started paying attention to how pointless it was to be itching for a fight all the time.

And deep below it all, running like a river of light, there's a thread of timelessness that I feel in every act, every swing of the censer, every hymn that is not laced with glibness and legalism, to the dawn-land where ancient myrtles grow in the place of cold stone war memorials. I have seen that land beyond sight once in my present life, in a dream (have I described it here yet?), and now it no longer feels so painfully far away.

In me now, the myrtle grows.

While it has been overshadowed by the unfortunate events of the last day (and by people trying to turn it into a sectarian conflict before the bodies were cold), I do have some happier news I want to share.

I will be made a lay server in Ecclesia Gnostica on June 26. This will mark my formal entry into the lower orders and, with luck, my eventual entry into the priesthood.

It saddens me that this comes at such a turbulent time but I see it as a challenge to remain steadfast to the plan that has been led so easily before me; the light yoke is often harder to take because it seems too light at times.

Thanks to  asianeko for her help.

New material to come in the near future.

In the mean time, here's a fascinating lecture by Stephan Hoeller about Philip K. Dick:

I want to do great things for the world. And who wouldn't? The world is in dire need of great things! But before I attempt that, I have so much to sort out in myself.

It isn't easy. I feel a certain urgency in light of the very real possibility of a social, political, or climatic disaster to be part of the solution, and I can be loud, obnoxious, and opinionated about those issues I'm most concerned with. I have big ideas and big plans that I want so badly to see put in action. I feel like I could do a lot for the world if I could find my voice and be heard.

But then I have to stop myself.

The whole of my experience of Gnosis, from the first glimmer of an idea that the concept of God was somehow different from what I'd been led to believe to the present moment, has been a long, drawn-out process of sorting myself out and figuring out what kind of person I really am by watching that person be torn down and rebuilt brick-by-brick.

That's what Gnosis does. It isn't easy. The Gospel of Thomas says “when they find, they shall be disturbed.” That's a very accurate statement. It's the beam of light that sears into you and calls out what your true condition is: there is a spark of the divine there, but like any spark you have to nourish it or it will never serve you. To nourish it, you must be like the alchemical salamander: to purify by fire, that is to subject yourself to an uncompromising examination of your life, thoughts, and values.

In my case, I know that many of my thought patterns come from fear and insecurity. That has been abundantly clear whenever I've been perfectly honest with myself. When one is fearful and insecure, one's decisions might be made with the very best intentions but the outcome will usually be bad. Fearful people are full of mistrust and insecure people are full of hatred, and that mistrust and hatred is directed as much inward as it is outward. The divine manifestation within our being cannot realize itself because it cannot know, trust, or love itself, and one's inner guidance is taken over by the lower parts of the psyche, the chaff of your wheat crop.

The last hundred years or so have been an almost constant stream of fearful, insecure people who commiserate with fearful, insecure leaders with whom they gladly march into tyranny, genocide, slavery, and war. I've seen the fruits of the fearful leading the fearful become worse and worse for three successive lifetimes now. In two successive lifetimes, I've had to live under the shadow of fearful, insecure people with their finger on the button that could destroy all of us.

The world doesn't need any more fearful, insecure people and it certainly doesn't need them trying to push some big idea that's informed by fear and insecurity. Before I take Holy Orders, I intend to purge as much of that fear and insecurity as I can and replace it with love, understanding, and temperance.

For this reason I will be updating this group from time to time, but only rarely until I find I have made some real progress.

Holy week has begun in earnest. Today was Palm Sunday, and I was asked to take pictures of the mass. I was given an old 90s-vintage self-winding film camera to do it but honestly, the thing was so noisy it interrupted communion! I offered to bring my digital camera next time and I think it was a welcome suggestion, so I might have photos. We'll see.

Lately I've been very busy with another project not related to Gnosis, at least not directly. I'm working on a screenplay based on my novel "Basecraft Cirrostratus" and it's going extremely well. I'm hoping to break into screenwriting, or possibly become a historical consultant for film (which is actually my dream job). Who knows? Maybe this will go somewhere. Our church has a parish in L.A. so if I end up working in Hollywood I'd be the perfect go-between for the Portland and L.A. parishes since I'd probably telecommute in the short term and I'd want to have homes in both cities in the long run (I don't want to live full-time in SoCal, I love the Northwest too much).

For the purposes of remembering what's important in life, if I do get fortunate enough to work in film then I will continue working toward priesthood. It's a long way from becoming a renunciate and living on dirt, and I do worry that I'll develop a love of luxury that betrays what I believe about the transient nature of the material world and the sanctity of charity. On the other hand, the early church had members of all vocations and social classes and it worked well, because each had something unique to contribute to the community. It only stands to reason that if I am rewarded with abundance, then I should give in abundance.

I'm sitting here, listening to Gregorian Chant. I've just censed my room and sprinkled holy water.

These are things that would have been completely counter-intuitive to me for most of my life, but I do them now and it feels so right. It's so strange!

Lately, I've been having a growing disturbance within me though. I haven't really talked about it anywhere. I've actually been feeling it for a while now, but it's growing stronger.

I feel a growing need to become a renunciate. I'm still attached to a few things but I've found lately that breaking attachments has become easier; I've been selling off things I don't need any more and I find I don't really miss them. I've been more focused and disciplined in my meditation on the meaning of things from a Gnostic perspective. I feel wrong and unnatural being asked to find a career and pursue status when all I want is to spend the rest of my present earthly life in contemplation.

And yet, I don't know where to start. The obvious answer, joining an abbey, would be tricky for a number of reasons (my Gnostic theology and my gender presentation would be two big things). One could argue that gender presentation is just another attachment I need to let go of but for what it's worth, it was in no small part female hormones that made me mentally stable enough to start considering a more ascetic life over a life of militancy and paranoia in the first place. As for the theology, that is a matter of deep and sincere conviction and is not negotiable to anything except the truth itself.

So without an abbey to fall back on, where do I go? There was a time when mendicants were given more generous charity; nowadays, as a mendicant I'd no doubt be subject to accusations of laziness and cynical insinuations that I was simply using my ascetic status to shirk getting a job like everyone else. We really do live in a sick age, when compulsory participation in the marketplace is a pre-requisite to gaining the resources needed to live.

I think of Matthew 6:28-30 often these days: And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

It sounds so easy: just jump into renunciation and don't worry about details like where you'll sleep, what you'll eat, and what to wear. And yet it is one of the most vexingly difficult things for a person who is already struggling to make ends meet to really take to heart.

Then I think of some of the ascetics in history who lived in abject, extreme privation and I'm put to shame that I can't make that commitment, that I can't let go of it all and eat dirt like the ascetics who ask the least of life tend to do.

And yet, it seems if you are unprepared to either turn on your beliefs or eat dirt, you can't become a true ascetic with no interest in buying, selling, jockeying for power and prestige, and all these things I no longer have any interest in. All you can manage is compromise, that invariably shepherds you back into this whole infernal business of compulsory participation in a market.

With that in mind, I may well have to make my spiritual goal to prepare myself to eat dirt; such is the way of the world.

So I'm in a rather interesting position. While my church does not officially sanction any sexual practices they don't really forbid a whole lot either. Ritual sex is not a part of our worship (Ecclesia Gnostica is an independent Catholic church of Gnostic theology, and should not be confused with Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica, a Thelemic church that does practice ritual sex) but we're not perfectly prudish either. At least one member of the clergy at our parish is gay, and they're perfectly fine with me, a transgender woman with an interesting sexual history, beginning a path toward priesthood.

And yet, despite not being reined in by strict rules, I feel compelled to examine my sex life just as I feel compelled to examine pretty much everything else about how I live. By and by, left to my own devices, I've come up with a series of very common-sense resolutions on how to accommodate a healthy, active sex life into a life increasingly dominated by religious matters. I feel that such integration is absolutely essential for becoming a whole person.

Incidentally, this post came about because I was involved in a rather saucy game of month-long chastity and reflecting on the old saying "Give me chastity O Lord, but not yet." I realized how ironic it was that I'm the sort who actually finds avowed chastity somewhat erotic in its own right and a lifetime commitment as incredibly sexy in a weird way. It seems odd to pray for the ultimate denial when I would get a weird thrill out of it, so I won't; chastity, for me, will remain a harmless little kink and my sexual practices will for the most part follow some pragmatic guidelines based on a great deal of reflection.

In the past I was pretty jaded about sex, then after a long hiatus from the rather wild sex life I had in my 20s, I came to the conclusion that although sex itself wasn't destructive, it certainly didn't feel enlightening. Carnality never made me feel closer to God nor did I ever expect it to; it has always felt like something secondary. In fact at times it was a distraction. I have spoken to others who find ritual sex very liberating but that path simply doesn't work for me.

Thus came my first resolution: to de-emphasize sex in my life. I have vowed to no longer pursue it as a primary goal in life as I did in my younger days. When I do have it, I want to make it special but I don't want it to be an all-consuming obsession any more.

Second, once ordained to the priesthood I have to think about how my actions reflect on the church and its priesthood. Even if not forbidden by command to do certain things, they are ill-advised. Obviously, openly soliciting sexual liaisons on the Internet or posting erotic photos of myself would look very bad.

Thus came my second resolution: to clear out erotic photographs of myself (which I have done in most cases) and to not post any new ones; also, to no longer solicit sexual liaisons from strangers. I permit myself to roleplay, get adult artwork done of my characters, and to take part in discussions on sex but there will be no more actual photos or arrangements to meet at conventions and the like just for the purpose of sex or "who wants a night with this vixen?" posts.

Third, the priesthood carries with it certain professional obligations. As a priest or priestess is in some capacity a teacher, it follows that sexual relations with a member of the congregation (aside from my fiancé who also attends services) is as seedy and unsavory and reeks of a power dynamic that I find deeply uncomfortable.

Thus came my third resolution: to never have any liaison with anyone who trusts me as a spiritual advisor. This should be easy for me to adhere to but it's a worthwhile standard to include nonetheless.

Fourth, furry is a sexual outlet for me even if I'm not actively pursuing liaisons any more. I enjoy good furry erotica though it is less of a pursuit than it used to be. However, it may raise uncomfortable questions with those already skeptical of the good intentions of the church I represent.

Thus came my fourth resolution: to keep my religious and secular accounts separated and to not let my involvement in the furry fandom become an embarrassment for the church through my conduct. This does not mean I have to delete my accounts or keep my involvement a secret, but it means I have to be responsible about what I post and where I post it.

Finally, though I have begun to de-emphasize, compartmentalize, and be more thoughtful about my sex life in light of my new focus on a religious life, I do not believe in having secrets; trying to keep my sex life under tight wraps and pretending I don't have needs or urges or do naughty things now and then so that I might appear more virtuous than someone else is the kind of falsehood that can and should lead to the downfall of the sanctimonious.

Thus came my final resolution: to not pretend that I don't have sex, or have desires. To never lie about sex. To not present myself as a chaste and holy virgin when I'm not. To openly admit and own up to anything I do or have done when confronted about it, and to attempt to avert the worst drama simply by giving my sexuality outlets that incur the least harm and embarrassment to everyone involved.

I will, of course, periodically review these resolutions and how they are working for me, and it is very likely that as I continue to de-emphasize sex I may make fewer allowances to anything sexual. At any rate, complete renunciation of sex is not something I feel I need to do at this point in my life; I simply have to re-prioritize.

(Disclaimer: there are many different strands and traditions in Gnosticism and other systems with similar beliefs, such as Buddhism. When reading about my experiences remember that YMMV).

When I received baptism, I essentially agreed that I would make a sincere effort to turn my thoughts in the direction of Christian mysteries as viewed through a Gnostic lens.

Even so, one of the things about our modern age is that it's an age where doubt is considered the default, and I've had my share of it in my life. Doubt kept me from being too involved in anything like this before; ultimately, it took a longing stronger than doubt- a longing to integrate my spiritual life more firmly and completely into my everyday life- to get me to jump in and actually try joining a Gnostic church.

I had felt for a while after my baptism that not much had changed, though; I'd certainly felt a lightness at the actual moment of baptism but I wasn't sure.

But during the week of my baptism I had been seriously depressed, to the point where I was verging on suicidal. Usually only a complete disengagement from everything I'm doing can help me, but I've been unable to disengage.

Then this past Sunday, I noticed I felt more receptive to that sense of timelessness that comes with the mass. I suddenly understood the mass and its parts a little better, as if all this time going there has finally started to sink in.

Then Monday, while dealing with some errands related to my grad school application, I came to a point where it seemed possible that my BA might be invalid. All I could do was leave my contact info and wait for an answer.

On the bus home, I suddenly felt a sense of calm that I'd never really felt before, like I was completely emotionally detached from the outcome of my efforts. It was as if my depression simply ceased to be for a moment as I sat there, so I made the most of it. I cultivated that and let it grow.

Then today, I reaped the result of that calm: I finished my grad school application. I made the final push and now I am taking the next few days to meditate as intensively as my schedule will allow so that I can be prepared for whatever happens from here.

Something did change at my baptism. I've become stronger, more capable of finding tranquility in moments when there really isn't anything I can do. And whether that comes from me or from a higher power, I'll take it because the tranquility, at least, is as real as anything I've ever felt. I can understand intuitively now why those who find this mystery feel as if a holy spirit were suddenly residing within them because that's exactly what it feels like: being host to a benign symbiote that reproduces memetically and melds with you and everything you are and makes it complete.

I'm impressed, actually. Doubt still has some hold on me but it's becoming less relevant as the experience speaks for itself. There's clearly been a positive change so I'm going to keep at it and see how far it goes.

I'm currently putting the final touches on my grad school application. Yesterday I sat my GRE (graduate record examination) and while my math score was pretty poor, my verbal score was in the 96th percentile and I anticipate a high writing score.

I still need to make absolutely sure that I understood certain details correctly, make some final adjustments to my writing samples and statement of purpose, and keep in touch with the professors who will be providing my letters of recommendation (both of whom have told me they want to wait until the very last possible day to get them to me, for some reason). All in all it's a nail-biting process that has kept me on edge for months. My deadline is February 15 so I'm anxious to get this over with.

I'll return to updating here somewhat regularly once I don't have that massive distraction looming over me. Currently I'm doing all I can to keep from turning every waking hour into a constant anxiety attack.

Until then, be well and Nosce Te Ipsum.

My baptism- indeed the entire Epiphany service- was delayed a week due to several illnesses in a congregation. That's the disadvantage of a very small congregation; if six people out of a congregation of about ten are out sick, you've really got no reason to have a service.

The blessing of the holy water was a very beautiful service in which the call-and-response of the normal mass was amplified. The waters were then symbolically blessed by the elements of air (the breath of the bishop), fire (from a candle dipped into the waters), earth (from the sprinkling of salt, which is taken in classical thought and alchemy alike to be earth in a purified form), and spirit (from the sign of the dove made over the waters).

Some of the text I recognized from the Pistis Sophia, which was interesting.

After the rest of the congregation received a brief blessing from the waters, I stepped forward. I was anointed with oil, then from a shell the waters were poured over my head.

I know it sounds cliché, and I might have reasonably expected to feel this since I kind of wanted to, but I did feel a strange sensation of lightness, as if relieved from a heavy burden, when the water was poured over me. I felt it to an extent that rather surprised me. At any rate, it felt more real and complete than the baptism I received when I was twelve, tipped backwards into a Jacuzzi while the congregation groaned out morbid songs about watery graves. There was very little ritual and it was such a common occurrence that nobody thought there was anything special about it.

It wasn't about the method of baptism; they could have dunked me last night just like they did when I was twelve and it would have still meant more to me, because the baptism I received when I was twelve was done in a mind turned toward death; the baptism I received last night was done in a mind turned toward life, light, and the Holy Spirit. Baptisms only happen about once a year in our church, since our congregation is small and grows slowly, so there was a palpable sense of joy that I had never experienced at a baptism before.

So yes... I am now officially baptized into Ecclesia Gnostica. And I have to say, I feel pretty good about that. I like the people, I like the liturgy, I love their taste in music (Rachmaninov, Sibelius, and Hildegard von Bingen are among the composers played in our church) and I like being part of a group that is loving and nurturing without being controlling and manipulative.

Also, before long (possibly before the end of the year) I will probably be ordained as a lay server, and from there I'll be on my path to priesthood. This was kind of my intent from the beginning and I think I'm ready. Priesthood here is done like it was a long time ago, where the ordination is based on completing a period of study, reflection, and apprenticeship. There is no formal seminary training because what is important is that a candidate has a fair and comprehensive grasp of the Gnostic Christian tradition, texts, and the general concept of Gnosis.

Right now, I just need to keep some other things going on in my life from dragging me down into despair. I have a meditation I'm working on that sort of covers my thoughts on despair and relates some concepts from the Hymn of the Pearl to the threat of despair and what it means to the Gnostic journey.