Today is Sunday, the 7th of December. I spent much time this morning in contemplative prayer—a praying state that has no thought, but is just in pure spirit, along the lines of Plotinus or Meister Ekhart. This is also the day that Japan attacked the U.S. naval facilities at Pearl Harbor near Honolulu, Hawaii. It was a day of wounding, death, courage, sacrifice and a power of prayer that is rarely seen or felt. Prayers from wounded or dying service people (and those helping them) reached a super-amplification as all their human and spiritual forces coalesced into thousands of lasers of prayer. Like thousands of laser blue lights of prayer piercing into the smokey skies over Pearl.
I spent many years at a monastic center in Hawaii. On the monastery property there was a cave dug into the red clayish, earth of a pali (Hawaiian for cliff) going down to a large natural pool on a river. The cave was intimately small. You had to bend to get in, could not stand up, and it went only six feet into the cliffside. It smelled of clay, ferns and Hawaiian humidity. On the left side of the cave as you went in, there was carved into the hard surface an inscription: December 7, 1941. It has been there since that fateful day, very neatly scribed and very remindful of the dual nature of this cave. It was a bomb shelter. For us, it was a communion with God shelter. I spent many days in that cave, meditating and perfecting the power of prayer and a psychic awareness of angels. Eventually, using a small shovel and buckets I deepened and enlarged the cave, and put in a shelf for holding scriptures, incense and an oil lamp. I spent uncounted hours at night there. It wasn't a preternaturally quiet cave (as some caves are), but it had a special connection to the angel and trans-angel realms. It was a place of praying and meditating aloneness that was surrounded in the psychic heaven by tiers and tiers of angelic beings.
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