Catholic School Reflections

   
   "Catholic School Reflections"
   
   After 3 years of reading the King James for hours everyday at Protestant school, where they kinda/sorta surmised the entire Virgin Mary thing as witchcraft, in a polite way mind you, I learned by way of a an ex-Carmelite Nun @ Our Lady of Holy Souls that we only honor the Mother, not worship.  She is an advocate, the Queen of Heaven, and like on a Chess Board--the Queen is the most powerful, while the King is in sort of a Spinoza-like lack of interest by way of being a cosmic consciousness non-attending, as went the ex-Rabbi's posture on Pantheism, more or less.
   The Monsignor and Priest were afraid of the Nuns, not because they wanted to put our fingers in the Gom Jabbar, teaching us to use the "voice" and all, like a Blue Jay singing a harsh mimic of a larger bird; on the contrary, they were rosy-cheeked and sublime, but rigid and steeled by the discipline of celibacy.
   It was a Gothic atmosphere, statues of Saints, Confessional Booths, Altars, and this would be totally alien to any outsider not in a blood and guts religion.  
   They were the best of my days.  A sprouting adolescent.  Before I grew in school, and they took all the religion away, replacing ritual and ceremony with the mass appeal of being a fine young man ornamented by way of a short haircut, how not to get a girl pregnant, and further fund crappy colleges that aren't worth a damn, them sometimes even pressed into conforming to this world, which isn't that bad, and I've missed out on karaoke night at the Chinese restaurant, but I still see birds in my trees and squirrels in my yard; plus, other mammals that hop and scatter.  It's been pretty cool, having a chance to live, even through the sludge, so I own my delinquency, determined to dare myself for more challenges, as nature dares the wild canines to endure another year without indoor plumbing.  I use a pee jar.  An old European thing.