Wednesday 24th June 2009

No citizen of the coast gem city could imagine the mad stupid autistic and professional person. They all were blinded by his availability.

 

The autistic person was weaselly hidden into the web of a very fast prolixity, that caused admiration. That prolixity was actually an architecture of micro-fibs, dished out with a wizardly ability of whom is giving a waterfall of truth. You came out of it pleasantly persuaded.

 

Such a prolixity tended to interrupt the possible conversation, interweaved with the inevitable yes and no, that in the mind of the autistic exchanged indifferently.

 

What’s a forearm? The autistic’s answer: what is before the arm. And there was no way to make him change his mind.

 

The visual experience of baby Jesus in the Trinity day (7th June) further melted the heart of the old prophet opening it to more divine intercourses. While all around him, in the society and the church, the anti-pedophilia blew up, without any critical light.

 

Veronica Lario, the “babe” of Arcore, according to the servile and piss word of Fede.

But a discrete and virile icon of the Italian ladies in the admired consideration of the Prophet.

 

In Japan lessons start everyday with an hour of music.

 

Baby Jesus, brought to life on the 7th June 2009, embraced him deeply. That little heart was the heart of God. The spirit and the soul of the carthusian were melted for it

 

Armando Ricca’s prophecy of the January 1979 said:

…You will shear their filthy fleece

And will make your bed with it…

 

And the “bed” of the carthusian is not only the cross now but the bedstraw of baby Jesus.

The cradle moves the cross, the cross innervates the cradle.

 

The divine Infant had ravished the old heart, affected by an incredible Embrace, humble much affectionate divine. The prophet apologizes with his readers. He cannot express his experience. After years of spirituality he found himself happy with that Baby, Gift become person, Happiness made flesh.

 

Humbleness flowed physiological in the heart of the prophet thanks to that Baby, in some way father of that Little Creature, mother of the little person of the Word.

Sublimity of the Cross softened in the suave humbleness of the In-fant Word.

 

Sunday 21st June. 6,30 a.m. For fifteen minutes a choir of little girls-angels: “A bride as white as a mimosa”. A nonsense reason, enigmatic, that would have appealed to Lewis Carroll. Clear and distant voices. The carthusian was invested with sounds (maybe), suddenly and violently waken up.

9,30 a.m. A new angelic sound, this time around an only word: Mer-cy. Performed by a pianola. For half an hour.

 

NB  Some hours later Sat 2000 traced the figure of  S. Margherita da Cortona herald of God’s mercy.

 

Those angelic sharp interventions educates the carthusian to readiness with God’s surprises. They rise him with joy and supernatural tenderness for all the day and longer, not only for that moment, given the sudden awakening. Together with the experience of Baby Jesus in the Trinity day, they free him the spirit in its light and joyful essence.

 

Nobody can normally perceive their own spirit directly. We are horribly distant from our interior source. What a musicality what a joy what a sense, dissipated.

 

Often the carthusian would like to benefit the divine favors directly from Jesus.              But He often gives them to him through His Mother.

So the carthusian is forced to experience the motherly mediation of Mary.

 

Whistling happily and spreading the world with freshness.

 

If God does not shine, He suffers. Like a suppressed sun

 

Mental modulations, those, due to a night angelic motion. Moments of incredible happiness, while I find it hard to fall asleep.

 

His father, when young, loved going to the cinema. Passing on, subliminally and openly, the pleasure of the Image to the little prophet.

 

How much the little boy liked his father’s women, drawn and carved on the tin with a deep pleasure and tremor, for the saddles never anonymous nor serial. Flesh magnolias, with their windblown hair and their starry eyes. They crackled voluptuously and sweetly in the young prophet’s soul.

 

Later that church made that bay a repressed hetero, while flashed by gay impulses. Such was the self-violence. But that boy, in his religious enthusiasm, had simply introjected the environment misogyny. Raping, for a misunderstood love of Christ, his most intrinsic deepness.

This article is available in Italian too