Be bop a Lu La

Growing up in Memphis in the 1940’s and fifties and sixties until I

heard the Beetles. Well, perhaps, I ought to start back where it all
started…when, I began to realize I was different. One Sunday,
walking back home from Calvary Baptist Church with my Mom – I
was getting tall, as I nearly stood at her shoulder at the age of
twelve-so, I saw my chance and asked her- “Do you remember the
sermon?” I don’t believe she truly knew what was coming (but, tis
far more interesting to think she really did-)…she seemed reflective
and said, “No, I guess not-“( “Touchdown. Yahoo!”) So, I asked her
gently, “Then why do you go there?” She, again, said (oddly), “I
don’t know…” “Then, why do I have to go?” So, for then on, I didn’t
have to go listen to all that negative, vindictive hateful stuff. So, I
was free….(Or, so I thought)
About that time, I took over a Boy Scout Troop. It happened this
way. Down the street there was a Methodist Church which sponsored
the organization and, we kids were out on a camping expedition. The
Scout Master stood at the door with the cabin lights behind him and
announced we were to come inside, as I lay upon the ground with
my comrades in our sleeping bags. I, strangely, saw a beautiful glass
marble beside me, lying upon the ground and not entirely sitting up
threw it at the figure in the silhouette within the amber light and
broke his flashlight bulb from a great distance. He stepped back
slowly and shut the cabin door. The entire troop knew then the
troop was mine.
Junior High School time was a wonderful opportunity to try out my
skills with Authority. The Coach was a moron who insisted with
shouting lectures that “The individual is nothing... the team is
everything!” I knew that was a lie. In the ninth grade we had to
‘dress out’ or, wear all white gym clothes.. One day, I had had
enough and fashioned a towel- twistings, to create a rope of sorts
upon which I employed it to make my escape out of the locker room.
Out the window, descending from it adroitly, feet against the bricks, I
heard snickering’ below… they were all there, with the fat coach
observing my efforts. Then, for awhile, he ran me around the
basketball court whipping my legs with a lanyard to assist my pace.
About that time, I began hanging out with a retarded fellow…older
than ourselves, who liked to slip trough a moveable board in the
fence and sit in the tall grass and sort of hide out. I liked to just sit
with him and we didn’t talk.
My best friend, Louie, and, I were of the same spirit, so we would
slip off the school grounds and go eat delicious burgers at a nearby
diner and return tree to tree, to avoid being caught by Mr. Hurt. But,
all that is another story. Because the Principal –Mr. Hewlett- was
always announcing, “I will not tolerate.” and, it got on my nerves. So,
I figured out by hitting all the toilet seats almost simultaneously, the
back up of air and water would produce a large and frightening
sound like a giant BONK and disturbed all sane and decent folk in the
school. On that maneuver I was not suspected but I did slip up once
in a very warm Spring Afternoon with the Study Hall teacher. I was
bored past sanity’s edge and let go a long ‘Moo” sound at the person
we called “Fish Face”. She used her authority to gather me and
march me right smartly to the principals’ office. The authority there
who had given me the paddle on my corduroy backside (didn’t hurt)
demanded I repeat the sound. Now, this was creating great anguish
–for, the prettiest girl in the world was in the office with her giggling
friends and I let go with a duplicate- best I could- of the Bovine
utterance. It seemed impressive. I was hit with all the girls.
Earlier at the end of Grammar school, there was … Especially, with
an extraordinary creature who went with me to the Dance and her
Dad picked me up in his brand new beautiful –out of this world
caramel Cadillac convertible. All we had then was cute girls and “ the
bunny hop”. Albeit, soon, Dances were getting to be more Rock
Around The Clock style- in High School, and the older girls would sit
glamorously around swimming pools in the Hollywood swim suits and
look dazzling and unapproachable by us boys…(as we would do high
dives to be noticed by them-) -and, the opulent fifties had begun.
After WWII, in America, with Pres. Eisenhower at the helm…there
was great optimism…(Not the same as Hope) with color -drenched
movies, and, colored appliances and Mom would color her kids
everywhere and unbridled good times. Girls girls! and cars and cheap
gas and the open road beckoned…something was happening.
So, my family put me in a Christian Brothers High School. My friend
from the 2nd grade- Louis Catone- talked his Dad – Big Louie- into
getting a 1958 Corvette…to fit in with the rich kids. Another
childhood chum followed us to this Brothers’ (similar to Jesuits)
school of higher standards- Charles Winfield Webb- whose Dad got
him a new Oldsmobile. We became increasingly wild. One big risk
danger dare thing was to get out above the Mississippi River- late at
night and climb down the old iron stair ladder to the mid-river stone
shoulder above the death –inviting swift big river. Hair-raising. The
Old Harrison Bridge to Arkansas seemed rarely used with it’s wooden
planks and spooky iron rail tracks. The pigeon-poop rungs of that
ladder was but a temporary distraction before landing upon the giant
pillar-taking in the immensity of the space above that Mighty River-
so often sung of by the Darkies. Ole Man River. Yep, no small thing.
We would run off to New Orleans- as often as we could. Anything
to get out of Memphis- with it’s Seven Ruling Ghosts! To drive at
night out out!- into the deep blackness … the intense jungle
atmosphere…the scents and Summer powers of astonishing
sensuality. Lust had so many features… Life had so much to offer.
So much danger. So little time and we couldn’t live in swimming
pools all our lives, so we lit out.
Another friend, whom I met when I was a “Fizz-ologist”- or, Soda-
Jerk- at Taylor-Lanier Drugstore for three yrs after school and
where I met Cindy Gooch. A luscious Southern Gibson Girl Dream-
whose Daddy was a rich cotton broker down in Mississippi. Larry –
who had been thrown out of Tulane at 15 (genius on Scholarship) for
co-inhabiting a Motel Room with an older woman, and I - took off
when I was 19, to hitchhike to California. My Mother- somehow -
found me in a Chinese Hotel of sorts, and, spoke to me, over the
telephone, “Honey, it’s Terry-“… I knew...and, I came home to face
the music. Took the bus out of San Francisco and got off in Juarez
(met a little fella on that bus who was also going back to get married
and showed me a huge wallet full of cash…so he invited me over for
a vacation before the hitching-); and, I played in a Mariarchi Band
and woke up in Arkansas with a wine-soaked Tuxedo shirt enroute to
Memphis.
My Mother got me seriously morally obligated to marry ( A debt I
owed her, as she desired I fulfill-) - for the girl’s Parents were not
insistent- her father was Chief Thoracic Surgeon at U.of Tennessee.
My two best friends wrangled to who would be the Best Man…so,
anyway, we went over the River to West Memphis and got married
and then went to San Francisco, California.
 We got into an apt. in the Mission and I took Portuguese Lessons
and Cello Lessons and Danced in West Side Story. I was playing my
horn once with a broken heart and Terry saw I was done for- so, her
breeding and character…enabled her to go back home. Later, I drove
her old 48 Ford back to her with all of her clothes in it which caused
me trouble at the Border explaining such- also-with a lot of whisky
aboard found, and, such was poured out by the officers to prove
that it was full of deadly wood slivers.
All this time, I was in and out of school: Southwestern –an Oxford
style college, where I met Terry, as an example…and, Memphis State
University. Restless again and full of French Philosophy and
Episcopalian liberties and, Larry and Frankie and I, left for the Coast
in a truck her family provided ...a phone company one, I think. We
had lots of fun enroute, especially in the Utah Salt Flats, sinking
down into the greenish brackish soft mud under the salt layers.
Later, they took a unique place up on Saturn Hill and, I was going
to San Fran State, racking up hours (Mandarin, and, Abnormal
Psychology- using Psychiatric texts-), abiding, in an interesting apt.
near a nice Negro Bar-be Que Restaurant. About that time, My Mom
sold her childhood home, and, split the proceeds with my Sister and
I. She came out to visit me ( Norah Anne); and, I had purchased an
Lambretta Scooter. Which I rode from San Francisco to New York
City. Took – seriously- five days to get out of LA - because of the Law
about 150cc motors in the Highway. Stopped off at My Mom’s new
Home and left one evening ( determined) down her driveway not
heeding a concern for a map and ended- strangely- in the light rain-
going in the wrong direction. Got arrested in West Virginia for
threatening a highway patrolman. He stopped me for going over a
yellow line on an incline because the truck was throwing gravel in my
face…and, the scooter was acting up- threatening to quit- and, I lost
my temper and- and -I was in the pokey and my friends – Win and
Louie ( who, by that time were both in Manhattan -) bailed me
out…so, later, I drove it about in the City and sold it and attended
Manhattan College in the Bronx and got fired from five jobs and the
War was on. Two –well, three…options were available to lads, as we
were- shoot yourself in the foot, or run away to Canada, or declare
your self a Queer or Homosexual (Sodomy lover)…( Win went back
to Tulane): so, Louie went back to Memphis and I was on the phone
to Mom- Virginia Ethel Carroll Shearin- and, said, ‘Hold the phone a
sec’ and, flipped a coin- whether to come home or go to England-
Viet Nam was no joke. Few ever came back normal or quite right
from the Green Hell.
They almost got me in Oakland in the Induction Center –when I
was called up to report. I had been studying Abnormal Psyche at SF
State; and, knew almost no one knew much about epilepsy. I stood
in line –like fodder getting ready to be inserted into a cannon, when I
looked off to one side and saw a lot of very happy hippies. They
were getting out and the ones I was in line with were freckle-faced
innocent farm boys and I knew which was my people! I told the
Psychiatrist that I had taken LSD and had fits and described the
Grand Mal Seizure and he scrawled on the page tearing the sheet,
“USES DRUGS!” And, I was free!
About that time the greatest party- ever- on earth was beginning!
Paisley sidewalks and Haight Street Royalty: I counted it up
later..and, realized I had slept with twenty two girls in one week!
(For, I truly Believed- “All you need is Love!”- It was like one big
dormitory- girls hanging out windows wondering what happened to
their shoes. Now, just before all this astonishing-almost otherworldly
wonder- had begun across America in towns- something which
changed everything. In Memphis, we once had a party- which lasted
two weeks. Many were deep into Psychology and French Philosophy.
We had a house in Mid-Town, where musicians from Arkansas would
come over, and dogs would hang almost half-off the porch and we
let the weeds grow and the folks passing by enroute to work
downtown on Madison Ave would look up and see -not a generating,
but a de- generating process going on…artists from the Art Academy
and Academics would play chess like beatniks with folks back from
Europe, characters and wild –looking folk.
About that time, I told my Brother-in Law to drive me to the airport
because I was going to Hawaii for free. “You must be crazy!”-he said.
I said, “Just do it!” I went to the United Airline Counter and the
pretty thing asked ‘where I would like to go’, and, I said, “Hawaii
from San Francisco!”- She returned with the ticket - placed upon the
counter and I took it- and, left to go out to the parking lot and
slapped it on Mike’s Chevy dash.
 Later, in SF, I had fallen in love with Cherie Kolb and her brother
must have thought I wasn’t good enough for her or something-kinda
hurt my feelings, so, I left the folks arriving (eventually, it was said,
“about 27”-live- left Memphis to follow us out to the City-) : and,
flew to Honolulu. I sailed out of the Honolulu harbour aboard a 47 ft
yacht at midnight with some Oceanographers (One I knew from High
School); and, watching the lights disappear upon the sea, the
Captain asked if I had ever sailed, he said, “Great! Take it!” and went
below. There I was, watching the sails, and phosphorescent Plankton
going by on the swells and the stars and in the middle of the Pacific
Ocean at the helm through the Molokai Channel – all by myself (I
actually pinched myself to see if I was dreaming!)…I sensed we were
nearing land and the need to come about, so I hollered for someone
to come up and relieve me. At sunrise, I got off at Lanai, and picked
pineapples in the fields with the Phillipinos for three days- I played
poker to get the airfare back to Oahu- I think I cheated to get off the
Island.
Long story short-as they say in Texas- I eventually arrived back in
California and everyone there looked sickly and pale. Joined up with
my crew and continued with our adventure.
Everyone who had outgrown their small towns and heard the
Beetles and Stones came out and it was wonderful for about four
months- until the folks who were not the Movie or action came out
looking for it and ruined it all for everyone; then, the Methedrine and
hard drugs and criminals and times changed and it was over. It was
all over in the City; But, the real action was up in Marin County…up in
Mill Valley with the super hip and explorers. But, that, too, is another
story. But, pertinent for what happened later, which changed my life
forever.
My Best Two friends- Frankie and Larry and My Fiancée, Cherie,
were killed in an auto wreck by a drunken driver. They were in a
Volkswagon enroute to the Big State Park; there was a giant funeral
for them in Memphis and I didn’t realize so many people knew of us
and our adventures in CA. I even saw Mary Carolyn Campbell -–the
girl I was in love with when I was 19- before I married Terry Skinner-
flowing through the assembly. I lay on my Mother’s Couch for 3
months -unable to function. One day, I got a ‘vision’ and went
downtown to the Lincoln Towers and got a job teaching school up in
Lebanon, Tennessee.
It was like a movie script unfolding, as the bus pulled away and I
walked up the drive with the big trees and cannons to the Military
Academy. And, I became Capt. Shearin, instructor of English
( without a degree, w/promise I get one): so, I purchased a red
MG convertible and drove to Vanderbilt and took Taiwan History.
Lebanon, Tennessee at Castle Heights Military Academy: Lived on
Campus and hung out with two lovely artists in a magic House just
outside town. They were real painters and introduced me to a town
lovely. I suggested a Toga Party, so they put us in the “Honey Moon
Room” with mirrors and I found my wife because of her charms. A
six-foot Blonde Gemini heiress who appreciated fun. We got thrown
out of the town Movie House-because the students began hooting
and rioting during a film, “In The Heat Of The Night” (The students
were abandoned rich kids and I looked not much older than they and
this caused too much great respect and attention)-so, seeing me
“with this blond bombshell in short skirts” –was enough excuse to act
up_)
The Commandant had called me into his office and had given me a
lecture- as a good Church of Christ member- (that ) he “didn’t
want no Buddhist’s on his campus!”…then, fate struck. He got a
call from an adoption agency in Texas requiring I sign a paper for
Terry’s husband to adopt Cathy. The Commandant went bonkers
and fired me for not putting on the application form that I had been
married. So, I put up a large lettering- over the announcement to the
students in the Main Hall (that ) –“I wasn’t to be on staff next
semester”- -FIRED!
So, I returned to my quarters and planned my exit. I had to make
sure I got my pay check from the Superintendent. That weekend
there was the great gathering of comfortable proud parents. Large
Lincoln’s and Cadillac’s parked around the Cannons. All assembled in
the Large Mess Hall. I had walked in and the kids went wild in their
dress uniforms and gloves, seeing I entered wearing a uniform
covered with gaudy paint I had thrown upon it in the shower
previously, and carrying a giant red –pinkish paper flower on a stout
stem…I ignored the mounting chaos and walked over to the
Superintendent’s table and presented the flower to his wife – a well
known drunk- and, she tore up the flower; and, I didn’t know what
else to do- so, I bowed and stepped through the nearby screendoor.
The Headmaster soon caught up with me and had a hand on my
blouse. I had learned from the Black Muslims to go like concrete and
not move. I said, “Take your hand off my blouse!” Now, you see,
reader, at this time two serious matters were afoot.
One, the students (as there was about 80 lbs. of hash on the
campus at that time-) had kicked out the windows and began
chanting “hit him Hit Him!” (Meaning- the Head Master. Well, I knew
he had lost two sons in the Coast Guard and was an Olympic Boxer…
so, elected, instead, to walk away, and, he shouted, “Be off the
campus by noon or, I’ll throw you off”- or, something to that effect.
The students were commanded to return to their rooms. And, get
this... For, it really is the strawberry crème at the top…all the music
on the campus at the very moment I stepped out of the teacher’s
digs, to face an assemblage of astonished straight folks on a lawn
across the buildings steps…was the Beetle’s Song “The Fool On The
Hill”. At that precious moment, I perceived a dove (tiny, I think)
above my head and the experience said/told me “Right time, right
place!”…
Got in my red roadster, and drove off through the lined trees and
turning on the radio, heard, “Hello Dolly” from my hero Satchmo.
And, I knew everything was going to be all right.
Married the town rich girl; and, family had giant Magnolias-for the
wedding- in their living room. My friend and his wife Rita came up
from New Orleans and (Charles Winfield Webb wore a Nehru jacket)
to be Best Man. They gave us a Volkswagen (pop-up top Kombi)
Camper to tour Europe…so; we took a German Freighter out of N.O.
to Amsterdam to go into Germany to get it. And, toured Scotland and
Morocco. Took some ganja (Ceuta) past the Spanish soldiers into
Germany, then, over to America, by hiding it under a lot of camping
equipment. We looked swell and I had on an Academic ‘goatee’ and
she looked like a Movie Star (Sister had been Miss Tennessee and
Courtney was even prettier)...I risked this- even observing them
stopping six hippie vans)... because, in the check point for drugs the
cops looked hot and lazy and stupid and reckoned they would never
bother going through that camping gear-in all that heat)…Remember,
I grew up in the South and know how stupid cops are... born stupid-
and, besides I was the real thing –Haight Street Royalty- and, had
already been a Beat Nik and On The Road Hipster (J>Keroac ,poet)…
I had better things to do on ahead. So, begins a New Chapter- in the
1970’s- in the Rocky Mountains, where we once-it was said- had a
party for 300 hundred people on our Ranch at 8,800 feet. It’s Hard to
Break a Mystic. And, it is hard to live around Yuppies, straights,
Bourgeoisie, Idiots, Liars, Queers, and, humans determined to die
asleep all their lives. Remember- as Gary Wills writes, “Priests Kill
Prophets. That is what they do.” And, remember, also- and, recall
this well- Hell is full of idiots. I know, I’ve been in the Greek
Orthodox Church 11 yrs.
And, the world is- as Bill O’Rilley now says regularly on his Fox News
show, “The world is now officially insane!”… I knew that, Bill, when I
was 19 and am now even more certain- knowing the Church Fathers
and Desert Mystics and many Priests…and, dealing with the
Protestants and Television Preachers of Pagan techniques to conn
God out of a swimming pool or, some free ride and - above all- to
ignore the Book Of Job- as being very Very Real.. that is: God is a
Terrible God...to be truly feared…! The Desert And Cell is real. And,
just for the Knights and heroes and Romantics… God will Break your
heart. Count on it. Patrick Joseph Shearin, Celtic Orthodox Believer…
Boulder, Colorado… (and, still Wild at Heart!)
A Fresh Start

1.) Not like “starting Over”- that would be

like beginning with one’s will and current data –
that is, the archives, apperceptive data base, and
experience and memories-
2.) Rather, instead, a ‘brand new fresh
start’ would be a gift of God’s Creative
and Holy Grace…
3.) Not similar to Prudence, wisdom, insights,
intuition, programming, prior experiences of any
kind.
4.) This would be a clear instance of a miracle in the
case of a 73 yr.old highly educated man (Africa,
Ireland, Greece, Hawaii; and, 17 yrs. College and
31 years of pursuing God through Protestantism,
Catholicism and 16 years studying in the
Orthodox Church.) Much to unlearn, throw
overboard, erase, and abandon and surrender
and allow and Trust and Dare to Believe and
Practice (as a Holy Kind and Loving Priest would,
in application-)
5.) Goal: Total Transformation and Complete
(Perfect) Pure Servanthood as Sharp instrument
in God’s Creative Hands.
6.) This is my Last Will and Testament –offered truly
this Day in January in the year of Our Lord
2014A.D.
77.) That St. Augustine’s prayer- “ Oh, Lord -
Deliver me from this desire for self-justification!”-
might not be applied herein, I beg of the future
readers- for I have need here of a defense or an
apologia with which to clear and bring lucidity to
the historical record of my conduct these last
Christian 18 years- for many superiors and clerics
(Bishop and Priest, both) have not read into my
external behavior the reason and cause for it truly
...in that their notion -even pious opinion- is not
based upon the facts-rather instead upon
observable and apparent actions and patterns not
consistent with the usual or typical standards, for
assessing or ruling, on myself, as a person who
“sticks to it” -or completes what they have
begun. Now, I plainly feel this is in error and wish to set
the record straight with the truth-which was
not made very available to these Fathers in Christ.
So, whatever they have arrived at, even with
spiritually gifted discernment-such could not be
resting upon any truthful solidity-for they were
not privy to what I was actually doing for most of
13 yrs- although all of such took place-as it were almost
beneath their ‘noses’. So, now comes forth
that evidence to see if they will recant and issue
another ‘pious opinion’ to be then based upon the
Truth (which would contain the following, wherein
one might judge the matter- that of my personality
and character, as regarding “following through”,
persistence...perseverance...etc.) More accurately
and perfectly.
Firstly, there is the matter of evidence. This is
the matter - the fulcrum upon which I expect a
serious pivoting of opinion to swing into a new
direction. This issue, this ‘matter’ is rather simple.
It merely involves the correct point of view. For
perspective is everything. Whether one observes
through the correct lens (are we using a telescope
or some binoculars...) or through one’s own
apperceptive data-base , with it’s inherent values -
Predetermining what is “observed”- we must be
clear and honest about the approach. Are we being impatient and
presumptuous about this data retrieval...? (I studied Anthropology
academically for ten years -so this is what the training is all about &
other disciplines could care less- )... this is pertinent because the
matter is essentially a cultural one; it isn’t ‘spiritual’ at all !
Now-in the West-in North America- we have
certain ‘values’ and members of certain groups
believe and espouse them and live by them and
judge by them. Is that correct? Alright...(remember we
are after clarity- and, that involves serious or real
communication-and, I just graduated with a degree in
Communication ) now, perhaps we can
proceed...perhaps not... for we need to be on the same
page, as it were- and if we are not on the “Same
Frequency” there will be the inevitable aberrant de-
coding. Now this means how people get each other
wrong...(one person says ‘couch’ and another hears ‘
chair’ !- now how does this happen?)
So, if the reader cannot apprehend this
elementary fact and it’s importance the rest of this
exercise will be a worthless paper and result in
loss of everyone’s time...which is certainly not my
intention. So- to get to the point... and ‘get on with
it-’...let us merely begin simply:
There were about seven major events which
occurred at the same time-a few of which I shall
relate here- when I was 19 yrs.old. The woman who
raised me died, I couldn’t get into Medical School (after
three years Pre-Med-)(money) I dropped out of college,
I moved to San Francisco from Memphis, Tennessee
etc.etcetera- +++all for a number of serious reasons
(with no desire to share such here now )...I left
Christianity @19;and,
Eighteen years ago, God brought me back to
Him in a way I have little desire to share with the
folk who haven’t had a similar experience... and, few
have- so, I don’t desire to reveal such important
‘matters’ to the merely religious or uninitiated- for
more than likely they Cannot understand such things. I
mean if the reader is not an advanced mystic- why
should I risk their mindsets’ opinions...? So, my life
turned around... and, I changed...in some ways rapidly
and dramatically –(After seeing Jesus as God and
receiving the White Stone - in Revelations) other ways
slowly and almost apparently imperceptibly (maybe in
some areas not much at all!) (I still know who and
whom not to trust)- now, when I told Fr. Nicholas (chief
at St Athanasius) one of the main reasons I stayed away
from Christianity for so long was that I rarely (if ever)
met an honest Christian – and, he laughed and said in
an approvingly way- that he fully understood.
Now, this paper is not an essay - rather, instead,
we have here an apology- which is to say-
I need to put forth the story with facts and
evidence to change the minds of some important
people in my life at this time.
It became increasingly important to me to do
something about my ways. I had, prior to being
drawn back to Christ -lived like ‘a little emperor on
vacation’. (I almost shut-down a Military Academy,
married the town rich girl and left town, became a
SCUBA diver, and, later, moved to Boulder, Colorado-
after failing- for the last possible time- to obtain a “D”
from the French teacher, who failed me, because I
wouldn’t socialize with her, and, she left town, with no
way for the Dean-a friend of mine- to reach her to
persuade her to do the right thing...)-so, it was over...
and, I went through the 70’ s as a rich hippie.
 (Once had a party for 300 people on my ranch, 20 miles
from Boulder, at 8,800 thousand feet- to cite a little
‘evidence’ for the claim)
Now, what this means- or, refers to- is the way I was
living for awhile (running 6 works crews in
San Francisco, part/owning 6 ‘Victorians’ in the City).
Anyway, there was a divorce ( before that experience
there, and, in Mill Valley,CA); and, I sold the ranch and
went traveling. Went to Greece and Ireland (been there
three times- Then, planning to immigrate).
These facts are given to add a little color to the
following events to lend to the possibility of a
correct understanding.
We all enjoy the relief of being understood. It is
a true comfort. I believe the Holy Comforter knows
this- for, He seems to bring persons into our life
who clearly do understand us- however, there is
more to the story- that is ,sometimes He also
brings persons who clearly do not- but, in our
perfecting, there are long intervals where we are
not aware that this is so. Especially, if one is like
unto myself, choosing and electing usually to
intellectualize with only folk who see as we do.
And, avoiding the many who do not. So, now we
come to it... Since 1984, I (worked six years as an
Insurance Agent ) intending to graduate from
college. Since 1959, I intended to...as I would try
from different situations and occasions (Manhattan
College in the Bronx taking Mathematics at 22) –so,
that, in my fifties I had accumulated more than 330 college
hours -enough for several Doctorates...the point is I was
trying ...against many a severe headwind. Now today, it
occurred to me to cite a short story- I mean, I met a Dean,
who had two sons, who both had become Professors, and,
swore that he never had any weather or headwind, and did
not understand any of such at all. This means that there are
some folk who really never have had any storms or troubles
in their long history of many successes. This Dean was a
happy pagan.( I wonder what his influence really has been!)
Again, the point is...there are many things in life we
cannot control (divorce, death, etc etc...no..? if that
spouse is going out the door- what are you going to
do...use Duct -Tape..?)...so, it is a given- in Christianity-
that God has us just where we are- so where I had been,
when I arrived at St. Mary’s Anglican Catholic Church
in Denver- where Fr. Speier (St. Athanasius, Isla Vista,
CA) had obtained his data- for a “witness”-from the
presiding Rector, and, the departed, almost- retired
Bishop-who had resided and Pastored there)- was
largely unknown to them- and- about all they knew was
that I lived (13 yrs.) somewhere in the neighborhood.
And, later, when we (at St. Mary’s Anglican Catholic
Church) all got very serious about Operation Rescue- I
made the decision to abandon all, and, get involved with
our many arrests, to put it all (my Insurance career, my
school work, even my freedom) on the shelf, as it were,
and put all my stuff in storage and, moved out of my
place to be ready to go to jail for a long period. That
was the beginning of a long story...and, this is that story.
Later, I was asked by one of the Anglican-
Catholic Priests,“ if I had any problem with Rome.” I
said ‘no’, and, he put me into contact with the former
Dean, a Professor of Theology at St.Thomas Seminary-
to see if we might be able to
dialogue- to the utter surprise of the many young
men there in the advanced stage of Formation- where
this Fr. Hugh O’Donnell lived at the De Andreis House -
I was shown on ‘up’ past the many (all?) to be the
spiritual ‘directee’...so, we entered a relationship- which
in English Spirituality is called Direction- based upon a
French concept called attrait . So, this continued for a
few years and I actually lived one winter at the
Seminary, as I was then completely homeless. In fact,
with only a few exceptions- I was actually homeless for
18 years.
Where I am staying presently is considered by the
clergy here (Isla Vista) as a “crash-pad” (a nice condo
by the sea-inhabited by two of their own- one, a man
who put most their Orthodox Bible together for them,
the other- a Doctor of Chemistry-considered one of
their ‘saints, another just back from Holy Pilgrimage in
England (now, a Tenured Professor in Physics), and, I-
whom has yet to reveal all my credentials to these
‘judges’)- so, again, the point is the difference between
the Christian Mind and the Secular One...(which, sadly,
too often, includes the ‘religious’ mind, also ) how
things are ‘seen’ -as I said, “perspective is all”! I am
asking for a Christian viewing here... and, although it
may clearly be naïve to truly expect such- this is the
effort that one would say, someday- “that at least he
tried!”
I reported back to the Former of Priests- after two
years of (His being a Vincentian ) going “down
amongst the poor to be closer to the Lord of the
Poor”- that I had learned that I didn’t like the poor.
Well, obviously- that was a bit shallow and premature...
so, I saw it was like trying, often, to get out of
quicksand. It takes-at best -at least more than a year to
get up financially if one is down low enough. I worked
at all kinds of terrible jobs and still fed the poor and
worked with the gangs and lived out at “Five Points” in
the most dangerous place next to Los Angeles with
savages and barbarians (you have to know the
difference- or, you “may get an ice-pick in your ear”-
the police said).…
St.Mary’s clergy knew none of this. I went to entry
level street Churches and Pentecostal ones and, slept
where I could and for a year and a half slept on the
floor of a trailer in a Trailer park with up to 8-
sometimes TEN- men there on the floor with one fellow
snoring like a rhino from hell as I studied to graduate
from Metropolitan State College.…
Gradually, with usually very, very little sleep and
great efforts to get to class -satisfied their
Requisites to graduate from their campus -except,
the committee to decide on my transferring
credentials (2yrs Physics, 2yrs Statistics and a lot
of Math-was not acceptable -so, they insisted that I come
back the following year to take their special Math
course...) electing, thereby, to put me back into the
scenario of danger and living in homeless
shelters,etc.etc. - All this time, I am barely
surviving...barely able to eat, live and survive and going
to the Catholic Cathedral downtown Denver with the
poor and crazy and wretched... and, I got a room over
the worst bar West of the Mississippi and from what I
could afford (stepping over glass and blood and fallen
Native Warriors of the bottle, enroute each morning to
work-), still helped with various ministries- bringing
all this time a number of people to the Lord. I even
brought one of them to St. Mary’s- who (she) later
ruined me with disclosing some very private letters
publicly to the rather unspiritual vestry (or, so I felt
about them, then) and, that pretty much finished me
there-so, I finally Graduated from the local college with
the understanding from my friends I had done an
heroic thing against all odds which took more than 35
years to complete, and, now, I must suffer the
ignorance of these clergy folk who have no idea what I
was really about or intending or doing or suffering or
accomplished in the face of their opinion that I do not
finish what I start.(One Priest had stolen-pilfered,
purloined, embezzled from 8 Churches and as a thief,
was written up rather explicitly in the Rocky Mountain
News… the Anglicans, it was said, “are too polite to
prosecute”-) Outrageous and mistaken. They are in
error... and, such hurts, and, this pain is because I like
them both and the Pastor (Antiochian... -with no
seminary experience or training in Orthodoxy-)
investigating this record of my behavior, for a
correspondence course (!) for the Deaconate-)=already
has a problem with me- which is another matter- that of
his protecting his sheep as his job is protecting HiS
sheep- and, now is being wary and being almost un-
helpful in his very severe watchfulness and critical
monitoring my conduct in his church because of my
attitude towards the constituents of this convert
(“Renegade Episcopalians in their elite club)
(Antiochian) Orthodox Church in Southern California.
So, now it could be said - the Priesthood is out...and, if I
keep all the special new rules I might - just maybe- get
to go out in about three years with a missionary team if
I’m good. So, frankly, I am about fed up with Pastors
anyway- I can’t see where is very much evidence they
have understood the spiritual gifts very well anyway- so,
we can almost say we have a giant mess- not unrelated
to this fact presently- everywhere.. I personally believe
they need to understand what peregrinatio means-
Personally...(a Celtic term for journey)- ...usually, they
personally have had a very short ‘journey’ to their chair
—which, I have always been very appreciative of...until-
they are causing error and pain- due to the fact that
they just do not know everything- then I find ways to
avoid them. Well, that is the situation I am in presently..
I do not feel understood at all because the facts clearing
my name and character have not been before the judges
and rulers and pastors to accurately know how to do
such accurately. Do I now believe this ‘defense’ and
explanation for my life will suffice to clear the air and
alter my destiny...? Listen, I don’t believe I could Love
them enough with God’s very Pure Love enough to
change their minds- if I had escaped Tigers and swamps
and hell itself and the jails of the damned and several
martyrdom’s- Sympathy and Empathy have limits. One
also needs experience (Revelation and Liberty granted
or, permitted)!
 None of these men have lived on the streets (Or, fed the poor, or
worked with gangs and Juvenile Court,et al ), or, often, as I saw at
Denver Seminary- men waddle out of school and speak of
experiences they’ve never had. That’s why I hung out with Fr. Paul
Fischer- as now, one might almost say - “he had too much
experience (Infantry-Viet Nam)”- meaning, I could see what it took to
be a priest -that wasn’t like an Episcopalian ‘pretty boy’...and, as
Bishop Mote said, “I will not ordain any one who doesn’t have a
strong ego”... so, I was believing I was gradually earning my way...
and, reading my way, with experience -out of Roman conclusions -
was another accomplishment, especially dialoguing with the young
Archbishop there, considering my being another Bing Crosby as
‘Father Flanagan’- well, that didn’t work, as I saw how bad the clergy
were becoming with their “New Age” sermons- so, after one year of
attending Western Rite classes, the Priest says I have to start over
for some reason to be part of their calendar- I elected to come out to
California to see if the Orthodox really had anything besides the
many wild hopes I was hearing about as offerings... I came out on a
bus with no credentials, letters of recommendation, books anything-
And, found that the secretary of the guy (Fr. Peter
Gilquist) who published the books (Tracts) wouldn’t
even tell me where he was nor even where the Church
was !!!...But, I found it- and, now after a year and a
half-(eventually, three years!) I have concluded my
analysis and report and know about all I need to know
about myself and this Church (which consists mainly of
“renegade Episcopalians”- it was said-)
The only way I can now attend or ever get
chrismated is to go to the Priest on every occasion and
check with him before I go to anyone (Fr. Speier
forbade my speaking with the other Priests -) and, ‘ try
and “fix’ any of them with a good ‘spiritual’
rebuke’...well, that is right, and, acceptable - and,
needed, perhaps, obviously... but, I can tell my Priests-
this stinks- this sucks...you guys don’t even know my
thinking nor my heart nor my vision nor my hopes nor
my plans...but, you do expect me to love like a saint, to
be a Christian before all else even if it means being
amongst almost-Christians the rest of my life and being
‘fixed’ myself (shorn and neutered by the proper ‘Vet’)-
so that I don’t cause you guys any trouble nor interfere
with Your plans or alter your idea about the spiritual
gifts -
So, I see I have no future nor a Church nor friends
who understand me here because you don’t need
to know the facts about what it takes to be a
struggling hero who had to bring honor to his
dead parents first- before playing Church with it’s
many external requisites to help us not sin and
bump into other’s barges. Please forgive me if I put my
oar in where it shouldn’t have gone. I am pissed at all
three of you for not looking any deeper with the true
requisite- “Esteeming Others Higher than yourself”-
you might have found one raised in an Edwardian mode
to be chivalrous and a gentleman- one trying to live with
fakes, phonies, betrayers and scoundrels (also with
Priests who lie and steal ) and, not doing a very good
job of it.
Gentlemen, you still have bad guys and a way of
dealing with such- and they rarely are the bums who
appear to “not :carry through with what they had
begun”- rather, they usually are the destroyers who fall
off the highest rungs when they are finally found out for
rash judgments and not trusting the Holy Spirit for
having all the facts. God Have Mercy on us all- I
wanted to be a Priest and, now, I believe it is clear to all
of us -except me- that I’ll never be one now.( plus, I see
now- I am not designed to be a Shepherd – none of my
spiritual gifts are a fit for that calling -) (Attended St.
Athanasius Antiochian Orthodox Church there in Isla
Vista – Santa Barbara- three years with two catechism
classes-)
This is it- I’m throwing the towel in-you guys win- I
don’t belong in High Church ( but, I’m still here in it…
I guess, the Church Has me, rather than I, merely,
possessing It !)- But, keep this in mind, my fellow
pilgrims towards the City of God- in the future you may
need types like me to save yer bacon and yer robes too.
(Now, that darkness swirls about and invades most
niche and crevasse)
Post Script- Oh, I forgot to tell you- I had a clear
“Vision” of my being part of a long line of Bishops.
(which, of course, I cannot take seriously) Could that
mean something with the out-of-time future? Well, we’ll
see=won’t we...? May God Bless all of us and forgive
me, a sinner...and, recall, truly
Christ is the True Priest and I Know He Accepts Me
absolutely and He doesn’t make mistakes when He gives
the White Stone.(Rev.2 :17) (by the way, the footnote in
the Orthodox Study Bible about this is wrong…I know,
they don’t. If the writer of that explanation had himself
received the white stone, he would not have put such an
error before the world.
“Repent, or else I will come to you quickly and
will fight against them with the sword of my
mouth.
17. “He who has an ear, let him hear what the
Spirit says to the churches. To him who
overcomes I will give some of the hidden
manna to eat. And I will give him a white stone,
and on the stone a new name written which no
one knows except him who receives it”
And, to hear from one with real spiritual authority
(from direct experience-):

The giving of the white stone with the new name is

the communication of what God thinks about the
man to the man. It is the divine judgment, the
solemn holy doom of the righteous man, the
“Come, thou blessed,” spoken to the individual. . .
The true name is one which expresses the
character, the nature, the meaning of the person
who bears it. It is the man’s own symbol –his
soul’s picture, in a word—the sign which belongs
to him and no one else. Who can give a man this,
his own name? God alone. For no one but God
sees what the man is. . . It is only when the man
has become his name that God gives him the
stone with the name upon it, for then first can he
understand what his name signifies. It is the
blossom, the perfection, the completeness, that
determines the name: and God foresees that
from the first because He made it so: but the tree
of the soul, before its blossom comes, cannot
understand what blossom it is to bear and could
 not know what the word meant, which, in
representing its own unarrived completeness,
named itself. Such a name cannot be given until
the man is the name. God’s name for a man must
be the expression of his own idea of the man,
that being whom He had in His thought when He
began to make the child, and whom He kept in
His thought through the long process of creation
that went to realize the idea. To tell the name is
to seal the success—to say “in thee also I am
well pleased.”
--George MacDonald, C.S. Lewis’s Tutor and
Mentor- “I know hardly any other writer
who seems to be closer … to the Spirit of
Christ Himself” –C.S. Lewis
I received the White Stone in 1982, in
Lafayette, Colorado. I told an Orthodox Priest
about this (sharing only part of the experience…
leaving out certain details- and, regretted telling
it for many years)…He now is my Mentor and,
regards the position with profound gravity and
responsibility, as such is more than Spiritual
Director and Priest-Confessor and Spiritual
Father (an Orthodox thing ): It is like Attrait
Plus…the relationship is eternal and includes all
the other stages…a heavenly situation …for, I
saw- in his countenance and body reception of
this event in his Spirit- where God placed His
signature in him… he has been sealed with that.
As he visited me at Manor Care recovering from
shoulder replacement, just before Christmas
(celebrated in his family and home)….This is
written in January 2:21 AM, the 26th 2014 A.D.
Boulder, Colorado just before my Birthday,
February 7th…having arrived 1941 A.D. in
Chicago, Illinois, on special assignment.
After more than ten years at Sts.Peter and Paul
Greek Orthodox Church, I just decided to give
the reader the Lord’s Prayer in Greek :

Pater imon, o en tis ouranis, agiasthito to

onama sou, elitheto I vasilia sou, genitheto to
thelima sou, os en ourano ke epi tis gis. Ton
arton imon ton epiousion dos imin simeron. Ke
afes imin ta ofelimata imon, os ke imis afiemen
tis ofiletes imon. Ke mi isenengis imas is
pirasmon, alla rise imas apo tou ponirou.

Aba-na l la-dhi fi sa-ma-wat, li-ya-ta-kad-das-

ismuk. Li-ya-ti ma-la ku tuk kama fi isama
kazelek ala alard. Khub-za-na Al-Jowhari a-ti-na
l-yown. Wa-trok lana Ma-eleina kama Natrok
nahnu Leman Lana Ahlei, wa –la tud –khil-na fi
taj-ri-bah. La-lin naj-ji-na mi-na-shir-rir.
(Arabic: try it…think Bob Hope, with Bing, in
trouble in Morocco!)
 And, before this the “ Priest : And make us
worthy, Master, with boldness and without fear
of condemnation, to dare call You, the Heavenly
God, Father, and to say:
The Lord’s Prayer ”
(also, we chant or say this in Romanian and
Slavic-)
All this in different kinds and levels of Worship;
some are peasants –not sure where they are-
some at the highest attainments of religion- and
some with two Doctorates (MY Priest)...and,
some mystics, some completely unaware of the
Spiritual Gifts, and, most seriously afraid of the
Holy Ghost (wonder what would happen if
someone got healed during the Divine Liturgy;
or, as what was happening to me @St. Luke’s
(Antiochian, where I was chrismated and
baptised here in Boulder)- where I was being
‘slain in the Spirit’, and, the lady in the choir
(Martha Freeman) came across the Sanctuary-so
swiftly, like an angel, about 18 yards to hold and
embrace me, as I was going down, in the most
sensitive and gentle way. She and her husband
were my “god/Parents/sponsers”; and,
mysteriously purchased a burial plot very close
to mine at Green Mountain Cemetery where I
was employed, and, sold them the pre-
arrangement package, before I bought mine not
noticing theirs so nearby! (So much for ‘free
will’)
Anyone visiting my grave will have a gorgeous
view of the ‘Flat Irons’ (Front Range of the
Rockies- in beautiful arrangement of God’s Art-)
And, maybe in the future will hear a recording of
Maria Muldaur singing “Cool River”-a Tennessee
song. Soft, deep and haunting ancient melody. A
cool river ‘transport’ to put a visitor close to
heaven. And, to think about the times, I played
lovely songs in the old beautiful cemetery,
amidst those huge old trees as Boulder Concert
Band’s First Chair Trumpeter to keep fit and able,
as a musician- given “Soda Fountain Music’ to
make people want to get up and dance; and, old
piano-bench tunes from my Mother’s time as a
girl; romantic melodies from an almost long
gone era; and, creative new sounds which God
allows occasionally. Nothing like it. Favor-
nothing like it. Like Joy, such isn’t static! Truly, a
thrilling very special experience dynamically
fresh and real… because, it comes from another
world- perhaps, for another world. A Blessing.

(Just read and reviewed –oddly, In January!

Again ! Friday,1/13/2017 AD Mahalo…Aloha
Patrick Joseph Shearin- still a member of
Sts.Peter and Paul Greek Church- still studying
Orthodoxy – now 17 yrs ! …and, now it is finally
all about The Cross…
Listen : for us all it All comes down to this:
From Dr. Ravi Zacharias “I have read and reread {Tozer’s}
books and each time sense a hushed silence. It is the silence
that has heard from God.”
The Pursuit of God BY A.W.Tozer
“One should suppose that proper instruction in the
doctrines of man’s depravity and the necessity for justification
through the righteousness of Christ alone would deliver us
from the power of the self-sins, but it does not work that way.
Self can live unrebuked at the very altar. It can watch the
bleeding Victim die and not be in the least affected by what it
sees. It can fight for the faith of the reformers and preach
eloquently the creed of salvation by grace and gain strength by
its efforts. To tell the truth, it seems actually to feed upon
orthodoxy and is more at home in a Bible conference than a
tavern. Our very state of longing after God may afford it an
excellent condition under which to thrive and grow.
Self is the opaque veil that hides the face of God from us. It
can be removed only in spiritual experience, never by mere
instruction. We may as well try and instruct leprosy out of our
system. There must be a work of God in destruction before we
are free. We must invite the cross to do its deadly work within
us. We must bring our self-sins to the cross for judgment. We
must prepare ourselves for an ordeal of suffering in some
measure like that through which our Savior passed when He
suffered under Pontius Pilate.
Let us remember that when we talk of the rending of the veil
we are speaking in a figure, and the thought of it is poetical,
almost pleasant, but in actuality there is nothing pleasant
about it. In human experience that veil is made of living
spiritual tissue; it is composed of the sentient, quivering stuff
of which our whole beings consist, and to touch it is to touch
us where we feel pain. To tear it away is to injure us, to hurt us
and make us bleed. To say otherwise is to make the cross no
cross and death no death at all. It is never fun to die. To rip
through the dear and tender stuff of which life is made can
never be anything but deeply painful. Yet that is what the
cross did to Jesus and it is what the cross would do to every
man to set him free.
Let us beware of tinkering with our inner life, hoping
ourselves to rend the veil. God must do everything for us. Our
part is to yield and trust. We must confess, forsake, repudiate
the self-life, and then reckon it crucified. But we must be
careful to distinguish lazy “acceptance” from the real work of
God. We must insist upon the work being done. We dare not
rest content with a neat doctrine of self-crucifixion. That is to
imitate Saul and spare the best of the sheep and oxen.
Insist that the work be done in very truth and it will be
done. The cross is rough and it is deadly, but it is effective. It
does not keep its victim hanging there forever. There comes a
moment when its work is finished and the suffering victim
dies. After that is resurrection glory and power, and the pain is
forgotten for joy that the veil is taken away and we have
entered in actual spiritual experience the presence of the living
God.

* * *
Lord, how excellent are Thy ways, and how devious
and dark are the ways of man. Show us how to
die, that we may rise again to newness of life.
Rend the veil of our self-life from the top down
as Thou didst rend the veil of the Temple. We
would draw near in full assurance of faith.
We would dwell with Thee in daily experience
here on this earth so that we may be accustomed
to the glory when we enter Thy heaven to
Dwell with Thee there.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
_______________
Removing the Veil The Pursuit of God
“As the heart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.” Psalm 42:
THE HUMAN THIRST FOR THE DIVINE