10 March 2011
Dear Anne,
Cole came and said, come on let's play volleyball. Volleyball? Volleyball, he said. Volleyball, I said? yeah. Volleyball? And I thought of nothing as the white globe floated and stopped and hovered. Then techno beat and acid trip hallucination. My hands set the ball. It came, it went, and it went over. Steve said, "We're playing three on three." Cole and I waited to the side; we waited with need for Elijah. And my weight settled on the automatic running machine and to stay on I walked, to stay on I jogged, and then I ran sprinting. My heart was back in Africa at the beginning. I felt ancient. To live I put my hands down on my friends, the railings, and lifted up my feet. The worrying stopped, permissive again. "Okay, let's go," Cole said and I enjoyed.
"Hey Spicer, you gay? There's a debate in the unit. I don't care if you are, just give me a straight answer. No pun intended."
It's been said before but is worth saying again. Brilliance is the ability to hold in the mind the possible at the same time as the impossible and not be paralyzed. Ghandi said that if --in the case of a youth who wrote him that he had been verbally assaulted and antagonized to fight -- that if the youth had not pitied the opponent from the beginning, and for a moment flinched under the insult, then the battle had been lost already. Thus he advised the youth to fight for his honor since he had already lost it. Friends, you intervened like angels and it was a beatific sight. Instead of seeing his bald head and snake tattoos, I saw your faces. I smiled and said nothing. He laughed at his own pun and was satisfied.
Thank you, Lord. I asked you for humiliations and you give me just enough to learn my weakness. I cannot undo all the homophobia of a man's life nor a culture of it. You will show me the way of noncooperation; I trust in you.
Chris
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
A new celly
After a bit of time with his roommate Cole, Chris gets a new celly named Matt. Celly is the term for cellmate.
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10 March 2011
Dear Anne,
"Everybody drinks it but nobody makes it," says Cole of alcohol. All the orderlies had to do UA Urine Analysis. They checked out. So about that bit of rebellion, yeah, I've come to peace with the fact its just one more aspect of inhumanity I can offer up to God. Giving the UA in itself is not a bad thing Fr. Watson says. Pray in thanks for him, anne! He celebrated Mass, the last in six weeks for us unless the visiting deacon arrives with Eucharist.
Well, I've prayed for my dormmates and joked again with that thug. Guess what? I met with Stratego Matt; classic one personality on the enneagram. Yet good, incredible; I liked the sterile clean of his room. He has good boundaries saying I can be messy in my areas. He snores. He works in the mornings. "Somebody says you sleep all day," he says. "No, I just tell people that."
Time to lock up and shut up,
Chris
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10 March 2011
Dear Anne,
"Everybody drinks it but nobody makes it," says Cole of alcohol. All the orderlies had to do UA Urine Analysis. They checked out. So about that bit of rebellion, yeah, I've come to peace with the fact its just one more aspect of inhumanity I can offer up to God. Giving the UA in itself is not a bad thing Fr. Watson says. Pray in thanks for him, anne! He celebrated Mass, the last in six weeks for us unless the visiting deacon arrives with Eucharist.
Well, I've prayed for my dormmates and joked again with that thug. Guess what? I met with Stratego Matt; classic one personality on the enneagram. Yet good, incredible; I liked the sterile clean of his room. He has good boundaries saying I can be messy in my areas. He snores. He works in the mornings. "Somebody says you sleep all day," he says. "No, I just tell people that."
Time to lock up and shut up,
Chris
Water for Elephants
A slice of a letter from 7 March 2011
* Peashooters are his biceps, according to the inmates :)
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"If only you would put up with a little foolishness from me! Please put up with me." 2 Cor 11:1.
Never could I have punched a concrete wall and felt in the echo on the other side; never can I guess what love in a prison cell when you forget time is so good interrupted. Then an unexpected bumping morse code -- should I ignore it? I timidly bumped with my left hand. It was Matt corresponding on the other side. I never that it could feel as wholesome as a hug.
"He scrutinizes me, shoots an oyster of dark brown tobacco juice out of the side of his mouth, and goes back inside." Water for Elephants, p. 33.
My peashooters are shot after four shabby sets of diamond pushups. Met Anton, the young guy shaved bald, pimple pocked, nose like a mole. Says he doesn't work, he only has six months to do and will maybe get a halfway house. This morning he gave me his breakfast tray. "I don't eat that shit," he says. "Monday morning is the worst." The biscuits were huge though. "Where I came from they give us quarter size ones like this," I counter, pinching the air. We've completed the lap and taken our positions, splayed our fingers apart on the polished cement. I flop on the seventh and sputter a few more. "That's it?" says John, seeing us break up. "Already done?" "That's it," I say. In his hand he carries a plastic chair from his room. "You doing a set?" "We're doing backs." "I'll join you in a bit," I say.
* Peashooters are his biceps, according to the inmates :)
--------------------------------------------
"If only you would put up with a little foolishness from me! Please put up with me." 2 Cor 11:1.
Never could I have punched a concrete wall and felt in the echo on the other side; never can I guess what love in a prison cell when you forget time is so good interrupted. Then an unexpected bumping morse code -- should I ignore it? I timidly bumped with my left hand. It was Matt corresponding on the other side. I never that it could feel as wholesome as a hug.
"He scrutinizes me, shoots an oyster of dark brown tobacco juice out of the side of his mouth, and goes back inside." Water for Elephants, p. 33.
My peashooters are shot after four shabby sets of diamond pushups. Met Anton, the young guy shaved bald, pimple pocked, nose like a mole. Says he doesn't work, he only has six months to do and will maybe get a halfway house. This morning he gave me his breakfast tray. "I don't eat that shit," he says. "Monday morning is the worst." The biscuits were huge though. "Where I came from they give us quarter size ones like this," I counter, pinching the air. We've completed the lap and taken our positions, splayed our fingers apart on the polished cement. I flop on the seventh and sputter a few more. "That's it?" says John, seeing us break up. "Already done?" "That's it," I say. In his hand he carries a plastic chair from his room. "You doing a set?" "We're doing backs." "I'll join you in a bit," I say.
Monday, March 28, 2011
talkin with the ladies
Thanks to Catherine for typing and sending this to me!
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7 March 2011
Dear Anne,
"Since we have such hope, we act very boldly and not like Moses, who put a veil over his face so that the Israelites could not look intently on the cessation of what was feeling." 2 Cor 3:12-13
Seven of us from echo-charlie just went to the psychologists for our formal intake interview. Peter complains to even be here. They should go to the facility at Lake Placid in upstate New York. But the treaty transfers get the once over - "so you're fine, right?" I meet with Dr. James again and sense she's a little tired. She wears contacts today and her skin glows. I'm struck with shyness and clam up, refusing to tell her about the whatchamacallit I got. "You can just tell me that you don't feel comfortable answering. Are you getting treatment?" "No." "Then you'll need to put in a 'cop-out.'"
"Do you know how to do that?" "Yes". Am I sheepish? What did Gus say to me when I visited...Don't be bashful. That's it. I've heard of guys who after a long time in prison fall head over heals with the first female guard who speaks to them kindly. I've also heard that "the first one you date (when you get out) is a victim." Yikes.
If it were one of these interviews with a female for application to the Society of Jesus, to examine your manner with the opposite sex, I wouldn't have passed muster. Transference, how does that work again?
Anne, I've brought back two books from the well-stocked psychology library. You wrote that print about authenticity encouraging me to trust your discretion. I've selected Uncoupling: Turning points in Intimate Relationships and Coping with Anxiety: Simple Ways to Relieve, Anxiety, Fear and Worry. Next I want the one on Boundaries.
Chris
Sunday, March 27, 2011
A footnote
I pulled this from another letter written the same day, March 5, 2011.
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Anne, I don't mean to accidentally appeal to the pitiable them of unrequited love. To clarify my last letter, let it be said: I do not consider myself worthy of the Society. No, I least of all its men show the talent to multiply ten-fold that is required for the Society's way of loving. She is a pure evaluative animal and I a beastly performance. She wants, and has had, men who through her formation were made from avid Manicheans into tart, saintly Augustines. Her disciplined institute housed the secret the works of the Kingfisher, Hopkins types living for God in obscurity, only posthumously Chardinian discovered, renowned because they lived free of ego. Full of Christ, their cups spilled over. I write to prove how faithful I am. I want you to believe in me Christ reigns.
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Anne, I don't mean to accidentally appeal to the pitiable them of unrequited love. To clarify my last letter, let it be said: I do not consider myself worthy of the Society. No, I least of all its men show the talent to multiply ten-fold that is required for the Society's way of loving. She is a pure evaluative animal and I a beastly performance. She wants, and has had, men who through her formation were made from avid Manicheans into tart, saintly Augustines. Her disciplined institute housed the secret the works of the Kingfisher, Hopkins types living for God in obscurity, only posthumously Chardinian discovered, renowned because they lived free of ego. Full of Christ, their cups spilled over. I write to prove how faithful I am. I want you to believe in me Christ reigns.
What Springs from Heartbreak
March 5, 2011
Dear anne,
"When the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified. 'It is a ghost,' they said, and they cried out in fear." Mt 14:26
So sensitive am I about hurts you've never once asked me to write - how do I say this? - why I left the Jesuits? Why I crossed the line? They are the same, an answer to God's call. I contemplate still signing my name Chris Spicer, SJ... but no, I have crossed out the SJ. I do not belong. Yet, and this is what makes it so hard, I know that I am a Jesuit in the true sense of the word, an offense to the Society. I remain a member of the body of Christ, a companion of Jesus. And how plain my heart bleeds with Ellacuria and companions -- that yes, of course my witness at the Ft. Benning gates bled in pain and suffering at how US Imperialism could spill the brains of the defenders of faith, paragons to the virtue promulgated by Archbishop Romero to be the voice of the voiceless. Like he, then the four US church women, the UCA martyrs shared in the fate of the poor.
What do I mean "offense?" The weaker notion is that I am not an offering that had an odor of sweetness for the Society. The stronger notion is that I am the vanguard. So I see myself, one blessed by God to go out on my own under cover of night to enter the camp of the enemy and, by dagger, wound the Kind of Darkness. To accept this mission I so resolved to accept the path outward bound, knowing that crossing the line at Ft. Benning in good conscience would not jeopardize a future application to re-enter the Society I love. I believe God would invite me to finish the work He started in me, allowing me with grace to entertain such a fantasy, burning zeal to endure a repetition of the more humbling stages of formation so that one day I emerge a fully formed man of the Exercises -- a trustworthy administer of the faith that does justice.
Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam.
Chris
Dear anne,
"When the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified. 'It is a ghost,' they said, and they cried out in fear." Mt 14:26
So sensitive am I about hurts you've never once asked me to write - how do I say this? - why I left the Jesuits? Why I crossed the line? They are the same, an answer to God's call. I contemplate still signing my name Chris Spicer, SJ... but no, I have crossed out the SJ. I do not belong. Yet, and this is what makes it so hard, I know that I am a Jesuit in the true sense of the word, an offense to the Society. I remain a member of the body of Christ, a companion of Jesus. And how plain my heart bleeds with Ellacuria and companions -- that yes, of course my witness at the Ft. Benning gates bled in pain and suffering at how US Imperialism could spill the brains of the defenders of faith, paragons to the virtue promulgated by Archbishop Romero to be the voice of the voiceless. Like he, then the four US church women, the UCA martyrs shared in the fate of the poor.
What do I mean "offense?" The weaker notion is that I am not an offering that had an odor of sweetness for the Society. The stronger notion is that I am the vanguard. So I see myself, one blessed by God to go out on my own under cover of night to enter the camp of the enemy and, by dagger, wound the Kind of Darkness. To accept this mission I so resolved to accept the path outward bound, knowing that crossing the line at Ft. Benning in good conscience would not jeopardize a future application to re-enter the Society I love. I believe God would invite me to finish the work He started in me, allowing me with grace to entertain such a fantasy, burning zeal to endure a repetition of the more humbling stages of formation so that one day I emerge a fully formed man of the Exercises -- a trustworthy administer of the faith that does justice.
Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam.
Chris
Quote from Socrates
"Will you not allow that I have as much of the spirit of prophecy in me as the swans? For they, when they perceive that they must die, having sung all their life long, do then sing more lustily than ever, rejoicing in the thought that they are about to go away to the god whose ministers they are."
-- from Phaedo
-- from Phaedo
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