i couldn't help but publish this

In righteous repose, tucked into the heart, call upon your stareta, and begin to speak of these things, be wholly in these things, in a mystery that is hidden. Complete your diakonima on the God-trodden mountain that has led you into solitude, and take up the neptic work, be wholly in nepsis as of now, struggling with your own nous in the kellia’s wrestling-school. It may be at last you will see the reward for your work, having written your theoretikos on other God-friendly souls, as it has been written upon you. Take part in the glorifying parade, and do not let your face be like those who are darkened. Give praise to the man-befriending, life-creating Trinity, for these alone are gracious and love mankind. Make it your aim to be counted among the myrrh-streamers and those whose utterances are God-breathed, and let not your speech emit a foul stench. Rather, be God-speaking, for the vehicle of our salvation is no longer far-distant. The fold of rational sheep will soon be departing, yet not through any other way than the gate, the sky-way, to their protecting mountain, led by their co-suffering shepherd. The one who killed the Nourisher will remain behind, however, trying to get in some other way. But he will not be able to, for he put a value on the spice and therefore must be sorrowful in his own field he has bought, until he repents. He shall be silent in darkness there, singing not hymns but never-silent lamentations day and night, over the woe of his sin-slain soul. He will ponder in great grief those who will be renowned for their life-quickening deadness that was taken as a curse, (for the age hastens to an end). He will behold them in their glory, for they have been regenerated because they stood far from the kakodoxy that comforted many falsely during this age. Even so their own doctrinal fruit basket was kicked over scornfully very often as though containing some rationally acting black hand, and not nourishment pure enough for God. Yet it is these who were indwelt by the triadic monad, and have escaped at last the murk-mantled prison of the decaying earth. They refrained from ointments, and now they gush forth healing myrrh. They dwelt in darkness, with no man passing through, and now they abide in never-declining light forever. Yet because of our lowliness and miserable orientation to truth we have not been deemed worthy of a word from them, for what is holy can not be given to dogs, and we always ignored or destroyed whatever we were given. We thought we were rich, lacking nothing, but we are sore-beset and our hope is bedimmed. We ponder them in their heavenly dove houses, their inner freedom, and our outward slavery. We know that although they spoke, even their words were silence-loving and enacted the triadic liturgy for us to partake in during the age of grace. Yet we hear these hymns no more, and only now do we see that we were hearers only, and doers not. Only now do we see that they are loved, and come to worship at their feet which have departed the wrath to come. In this tribulation we see that our righteousness did not exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees, and all day and night we fed the swine of the citizens, giving our power to the Officer of Darkness, for he seemed stronger than their Executed Leader. Exhausted from their struggle with envy and hatred, God has taken them. They were not talkative, yet their mental activity was great and constant. Though they often stooped to help us, we did not consider worthwhile their offer to separate from the flesh-pleasers and the all-wicked, soul-harming offenders. Their struggles earned them undeceiving peace, and they have flown like spiritual eagles to the living corpse. They lived all their lives for the Guiltless Great Sufferer, while now only our suffering is beyond description. We mourn them, and beckon them to have mercy on us and save us. Spiritual blossoms of the meadows of Russia, pray for us! IC/XC NI/KA










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this seemed like the right blog for it












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