5/6/2023 0 Comments Matthew garrett iconographer![]() ![]() They are simply the prayers of good will, by your friend, Columbina. But they are not the prayers of the monks or nuns. My “Athonite” incense is very good, and I do my best praying over it. So too, Athonite incense only comes from the Holy Mountain, straight from the hands of the monks who make it. True Champagne only comes from that lovely valley in France. But it is not “Athonite” any more than “Cooks” is “champagne”. I can make their product, and it’s so similar only they would know the difference. The truth is, for a long time, I have simply copied the monks of Mt. I had started feeling this way about a month ago, and I spoke to my priest who smiled and said, “Well, it’s about time! I’ve been waiting for this….” Funny, how he seems to know what I will do before I do it. I am talking about creating that desert inside my own soul and walking a desert path within it toward the summit of Sinai. I’m not talking about “biblical perfume” nonsense. I want to sink my feet in the sands of Ethiopia and find the fragrances of the earliest monks and nuns. Athos and go back to the deserts of Egypt and make bakhoors and find rare resins to work with, to make desert style, worshipful scents. I want to leave Athonite style incense to the monks of Mt. At the same time, these things are not really new. The artist in me wants to experiment with fragrances in ways I have not done before, simply because I was afraid to attempt them. I can feel the artist side of me wanting to burst out and create new things. Such devotion to the Christian ideal (Be ye perfect, as I am perfect!) is exhausting and yet these monks and nuns, the desert dwellers, they found the strength to not only accomplish it, but in many cases, lived looooong lives in spite of the hardships they faced. They LIVED their lives! They embraced their humanity and spent their lives in self-examination. They were so deeply practical and they did not waste a lot of time on philosophy or pointless arguing. I thought about how they might view my personal situation and how practical their writings seem to be, and so I pulled out my copy and read a bit of their sayings. I tried to imagine what their lives were like, and what their daily routine was. ![]() After awhile, I opened my eyes and I tried to imagine going back in time and visiting a real Desert Father or Mother. I inhaled and tried to pray in that way that is personal and so filled with hurt that you don’t want anyone to hear, that speaks to God directly about our self-inflicted wounds and our sins. It was raw frankincense and myrrh in basic, plain bowl. This morning, I walked out to a secluded spot, and lit my incense. Now, more than ever, I look out at the expanse of the mountains and the desert floor and I imagine the Desert Fathers and Mothers. Since returning to this high mountain desert, where things are pretty well spelled out for you (live or die) I have been stretched, like a shirt that is too small over a growing frame. I lived and moved among people who did not have my best interest in mind, and in some cases actively sought my destruction. I was always an outsider, and in many cases, an outcast. Some might think that I was really “living it up” on the modern and beautiful California coast, but the truth is, I was never “at home” or with my own people. Thank you Lord, for your mercy, and for merciful friends!Ībba Antony, you know that I mean no harm - I’m sorry I forgot…but please accept my incense and bless it with your mighty prayers to God!Ībout two months ago, I returned to the desert after being away in what seemed like exile. I’m such a sloth and I can only say that they “cover” for me. I can only say that the Theotokos or my angel must have nudged me awake early this morning, so that I had time to get the incense started on his day. I cannot say that I was holy enough to hear him. But I did start on the bahkhoor I’m making in his honor, today. I always feel like I’m “late to the party”. I’m always the last one to know about it. But I am always “late” on someone’s feast day. I suppose he showed up to my house and I was awake, which was good. Guess who I was just reading about last night? It was midnight when I started, and around 130 am when I went finally went to zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I couldn’t sleep last night, and I picked up my old copy of “Early Christian Lives”. But it’s awfully odd, how certain Saints creep on me and go “boo!” when I least expect it. I do as much as I can, when I can, and how I can, the best I can. It’s not that I don’t care, or that I am not “vigilant” or prayerful. To be honest, I am always surprised (and delighted) when someone says, “It’s St. I have to confess I don’t always look at my calendar. ![]()
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