ESCHATON

 

Thunder and lightning SMASH down upon this small asset-stripped Texan farming community, shaking the ancient wooden timbers (what?) of the Compound. Like no kidding, a ferocious storm, turning night into day with all the fury of an electric universe.

Yes indeed, the climate's changed with elemental, eschatological fury. And so we stand, undaunted, on the rain lashed porch, daring our adversary to do its worst. 

Seriously, this storm's pretty crazy, be safe out there.

Apocalypse,

LSP

Thunder Lightning Eschaton

 

Thunder roars and rumbles across the sky and lightning sears and cracks the heavens as rain lashes down with elemental fury. Yes, this is Texas, and the days of our small rural farming community may be numbered as assorted trash, needles, broken shoes, dime bags and weaves wash away in the flood.

A cleansing, perhaps. But on a practical note, as you look up from weapons cleaning, polishing Sam Brownes and ironing uniforms, it's said that enough rain falls in Texas to keep your compound irrigated throughout the year, if you collect the rain.

We have yet to build a cistern(s) and that's clearly overdue. You see, when the grid goes down how will you get lifegiving water to your home via electric pumps which don't work? 

You get the point. In the meanwhile, we're watching this storm in all its incandescent fury.

Eschaton,

LSP

Apocalyptic Reflection

 

Ferocious rain whips against this old wooden house as thunder rumbles and lightning flashes apocalyptically across the night sky. What is it about Stations of the Cross on a Texan Thursday evening that brings this on. I don't know, I can't fathom the ways of our old enemy the Weather, but it seems appropriate to this evening's devotion.

After all, what is the crucifixion if not the seeming triumph of Antichrist and with that we're reminded of a bestial number, a threefold series of sixes. St. John casts light on infernal mathematics in his Gospel.

At the sixth hour Christ is met by the harlot at the well. Again at the sixth hour, the followers of Caiaphas the false prophet stamp themselves with the mark of the beast, crying out, "We have no king but Caesar." Then darkness falls upon the land at the sixth hour as Jesus hangs dying on Calvary.

There it is, 666 and the character of Antichrist spelled out, whorish infidelity, idolatrous irreligion, and the murderous extinction of life itself. Such is Satan's revolt against God and the serpent appeared to have won, but not so fast.

The Samaritan woman at the well repents and becomes a great evangelist and martyr, St. Photina, in receipt of living water. The false prophets are swept away and the darkness of the cross gives out to the light of Easter and the empty tomb. Life, light and truth win over the deathly night of the beast.

All this played out in Christ's life, setting the template, model, figure and type of the final battle between good and evil. Every day draws us closer to this point and with it the lines are ever more clearly drawn and distinct. Hasten to enlist on the right side of this divide.

In the meanwhile, thunder and lightning crash down with the very force of the Eschaton itself.

Here endeth the Lesson,

LSP

Spooky

 

Nothing sinister or spooky about anything at all, right about now, but mind how you go.

Your Pal,

LSP

Lightning!

 

No sooner had Stations of the Cross and the obligatory Lenten meal and class finished than it began to rain. Not heavily, but the drops were big, Texan style. Then the wind picked up and ominous rumbling filled the air. Thunder, like the sound of guns along the Oder Front, or Deep Purple.

Lightning began to arc, illuminating clouds which scudded across the firmament of heaven as night turned to electric day. It was easy, at that moment, to believe in the Electric Universe. Roll on, Nicola Tesla.

In other news, it's the Feast of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary tomorrow. Here's the Collect:

WE beseech thee, O Lord, pour thy grace into our hearts; that, as we have known the incarnation of thy Son Jesus Christ by the message of an angel, so by his cross and passion we may be brought into the glory of his resurrection; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

 

Somehow this seems apt in the storm and my mind goes to  I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven.

God bless,

LSP

Crazy Storm

Texas is big and so is its weather. When it's hot it's really hot, like an oven. When it storms it really storms and that's what happened tonight. We were at the Four Seasons, no, not that one, this is a different place, the one next to Internet, Sweepstakes, Fun Time, then crash, down came the rain. 

You could hear it pounding on the roof above the stained acoustic tile drop ceiling while sheet lightning lit up the sky beyond the Seasons' barred windows. There it was, our Old Enemy the Weather venting its fury like a thwarted Presidential Candidate falling on Mook with outstretched talons. 

The ride home down a black ribbon of half-submerged asphalt was dramatic enough but uneventful, I took it slow and so did everyone else. Smart, who wants to hydroplane in a near zero viz stormfront?

Still, it was good to get back to the Compound. I set up on the porch as lightning arced across the sky, rain sheeted down and tornado warnings flashed on the phone screen. Thunder's rocking the house now, Elite Hotel's playing on the jukebox.

Will anything be left of this town tomorrow, will it be washed away like so many futile Bloomberg millions in Virginia? Only time, and a new dawn, will tell. 

For now, we stand to, cleaning weapons, sharpening kukris, loading magazines and throwing last year's broken furniture on the fire.

#2A,

LSP

RAIN

You know what it's like. Walk out the door and you're in an oven, a preheating oven and there's no respite. Open the door to your rig and a blast of oven-hot air comes out and pounds you in the face. Relentless.

All in all it's like a furnace, so hot it seems the very air itself might ignite. That's probably why there's been a burn ban; wouldn't want any stray sparks catching the air on fire, would we.

And that's Texas in July, hot as Hell's Narthex, which was all too apparent in the parking lot of this asset-stripped rural haven's Walmart. 

There we were, the heat, the rig, the melting asphalt, Madonna singing Rain, it was hard to even move and then there it was. A cloud, a rain cloud.

It pulled in from the East and gathered momentum, thunderheads, and sure enough the heavens started to growl and rumble. Then lightning arced down like Satan falling from power and it began to rain.

Some of you, maybe all, will understand this. But whatever, take it as read that this Climate Change is a sure and certain gift from God.

Chill out,

LSP

Storm, Art, Flag, Bishop

The three or four Russian hackers that read this mind blog keep asking, "Tovarich, LSP, there are no posts! What is happening? Explain." Alright, I will.

Things have been incredibly busy at the Compound, with Lent talks, Stations of the Cross, an Episcopal Visitation, storms, flying the flag and making art.

It's a simple installation; a plain color field whose center is an absence, a void inviting projection as we journey downwards and beneath the image. Is it a reflection, a mirror, an image of the other or none of these things? It's called "X Ring," serious inquiries only.

Great art aside,  our enemy the Weather has launched a ferocious offensive, unleashing thunder, lightning and torrential rain. Our bishop braved that this morning to visit the missions; well done, Jack Iker.

It will probably storm again tonight and the Compound, like the prow or bridge of a ship, will stand tall against the fury of the elements.

Be safe,

LSP

It's Dark and Stormy, on the Edge of Time

Driving on the Edge, on the Edge of Time

Lightning, rain, darkness. Just another typical day on the edge of time, except for thunder, which was weirdly missing. One cup of hot tea later and the power went down, which meant shaving by flashlight before climbing into a storm-tossed rig to the eerie cries of terrified peacocks and the forlorn howling of Blue Raskolnikov. 

The Wire

Thirty minutes of apocalyptic driving later I reached my objective, the Cowboy Church's men's prayer breakfast. And I was glad I went, because the cowboys are alright and you always, in my experience, get a good "message." This morning's was on forgiveness; don't hold bitterness, anger and resentment in your heart or it'll chew you up and spit you out. The Gospel's pretty emphatic on that theme.

A Typical Day in Wales

It was light by the time breakfast was over, and I looked out across the wire at rain-soaked Texas. It was like Wales, in August.

Be safe,

LSP

Another Storm

Thunder shakes the house as lightning sheets across the sky and rain lashes down; another storm. I watch the enraged fury of the elements from the comparative safety of the front porch. 

And such is the new normal, here in Texas. Storms, rain, flooding, the Eschaton. Speaking of which, here's an apocalyptic prophecy from Sr. Lucia, one of the Fatima children. She wrote to Cardinal Carlo Caffara of Bologna:

The final battle between the Lord and the reign of Satan will be about marriage and the family. Don’t be afraid, because anyone who operates for the sanctity of marriage and the family will always be contended and opposed in every way, because this is the decisive issue. However, Our Lady has already crushed its (Satan's) head.

The storm is intensifying. Whether and to what extent anything will be left of this bucolic farming community in the wake of the flood remains to be seen

LSP

Rainbow, Where's The Gold?

In a stunning display of cosmic irony, a rainbow appeared in LSPland, facing Stores, affectionately known on the depot as "Walmart." And not just any old rainbow, no, this one was double.

There it was, hanging in the sky, so I joined the smartphone frenzy and took a picture of it, along with everyone else. There weren't any unicorns frolicking on its graceful curves and I couldn't find the crock of gold, either. 

So Where's The Unicorn?

That, the mythical pot of wealth that comes with the rainbow, is apparently an illusion. Follow the rainbow, they say, and you'll find riches and happiness beyond your wildest dreams. But it's not there, so much for State agitprop.

Stores

After a time the rainbow faded, giving way to torrential rain, house-shaking thunder and ferocious lightning, which I watched from the safety of the porch.

There's a moral in this, if you care to draw it.

LSP