Remodeling Your Mind

Lao Tzu said, "First there came one.
From one there came two. From two there were three.
Then three gave birth to the ten thousand things."


The names of the Trinity are inscribed over the door to the House of The Lord. To think them is to knock, and to contemplate them is to enter. In a certain sense, this house is created only if and as we enter more deeply into it. We may enter so subtly, so elaborately, and so devotedly into the contemplation of spiritual matters, that we find ourselves erecting a vast and impressive temple, or cathedral, made up entirely of theological relationships; indeed, some spiritual buildings are books, and some spiritual books are buildings. We build it, so that it may provide a suitable habitat for the prayerful soul, whose prayers may thereby receive a greater quantity and quality of inspiration, instruction, and encouragement.

Over time, the innumerable contemplations we have carved, polished, measured, hewn, and hung begin to solidify and remain fixtures, as it were, upon the walls of our noetic habitations. Our minds are indeed the houses of our souls. They are presently decorated with the images or ideas to which we presently give our attention, and are built by those images and ideas to which we have formed the deepest attachments.

The Grace of God has final say in determining whether a prayer offered on the subway, surrounded by irreligious influences, may yet be more sincere than a prayer offered inside of a beautiful church. Though a woman may be lounging herself in the loveliest garden in all the world, her mind may be somehow in the gutter; likewise, a man may be crawling through a jumble of dead bodies, but his prayer may have more "guts", more humanity, and more soul in it than most; perhaps his mind holds up to him an icon of The Blessed Mother, so that, even in the midst of war, he is declaring peace within himself.

We may be familiar with certain rules of thumb, yet God alone sees every exception to the rules. Notwithstanding this reservation, we may be all the more bold in proclaiming this rule, since we are not speaking of terrestrial, but celestial, affairs. It is one thing when the war is "out there"; another thing when you're at war with yourself; a traitor to both sides.

This is a lesson sorely needed in our time. When we go to decorate our home, or to buy a home, we don't max-out the creditcard buying up everything we see, and then load our house full of all sorts of eclectic junk. But do you know of anyone who does NOT do this with their mind? After all, it is free to covet.

Shakespeare observed that our eyes are the windows of our souls. But, what shines out from the eyes is only the faintest reflection of what shines into them; for that is what they shine upon. Imagine cramming all manner of junk through your windows, into your house; loud, sensationalistic reality t.v. stars, phony, obnoxious talkshow radio personalities, towering brand-names in ugly orange fonts... The list goes on, and on, and on. This is not merely the corporate landscape of modern culture. This is the wasteful clutter that's been hoarded inside the modern mind. The modern mind is a land-fill where everything from discarded syringes to entire cities has been dumped and left to rot. Where Britney Spears' latest flop, indecently decomposes beside The Beatles' "White Album", and nothing is entirely right with the world.

Now, if anyone attempts to erect and decorate their mind as they would their home, no doubt, they will wish to error on the side of "less is more", seeing how difficult it is to keep anything out, as well as to remove anything, once in. Yet, this minimalistic approach to giving one's attention is precisely what our culture deems obsessive behavior. Moderation, some will tell you, is to spend Sunday Morning in Church, and Saturday Evening at the Pub. Leaving aside the inevitable hangover (more than likely to usurp the seat of reverence), what is most unfortuneate here is that, come Monday, both Tapster and Minister will be swapping stories in your "noetic living room". As things go, it will almost certainly be the Tapster preaching his own soggy sermon, while the Minister follows Christ down the short, narrow corridor of a pint, just before passing out.

There are many who have gone into the desert for this reason. They sought out the most barren and austere terrestrial surroundings, as the only places on earth where the chaos of images and impressions inside their heads could be washed away in a flood of dull, brown emptiness. It was not the ocean which flooded, and changed the shape of the world. It was the desert, which flooded all who approached, in tidal waves of nothingness.

In return, the desert herself was flooded with saints.