The tired cardinal gasped his last breath, clutching the ivory Crucifix upon his chest, alone in the dankest of holy quarters, “ Padre, take me to your Golden Cenacle, where I will shimmer forever in the kind rays of the Lord!”
There’s a new Cenacle and its located in Cairo, Eygpt, where the Dead Sea Scrolls hide, feel the spirit?
Eastern Educated priests and gallant southern state ministry bands across the nation have wound a new religious timer, a Contemporary Armageddon.
The Ancient Cenacle of the Holy Scriptures was equivalent to Vanity Fair’s 99 theses: Social Power (Yet to be written).
The Ancient Cenacle is better know as the venue for “The Last Supper”, indeed the first red carpet appearance for Holy Men.
It was also the groundbreaking site of the first Christian church, void of modern day saints and corrupt church affiliations; no vacancy for the devil.
Jesus’ pre-crucifixion party was held in the “Upper Room”, or the room of total enlightenment, exclusive, momentary, and existentially breath taking.
Present at the blessed banquet sat twelve ancient fathers of the Christian communities you learn to love or hate: Peter “prince of the apostles”, Andrew, James the Greater, James the Lesser, John, Phillip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, Thaddeus, Simon the Zealot, and Judas Iscariot.
In vague recollections of my own unwarranted trips to Father Sierra Parish on Sundays, the Last Supper played out more like the third season finale of Sons of Anarchy.
In a dream-like awe, gathered at the Upper Room, fictitiously drunken and yet to be sincerely bored, Kelly McIntyre, a four year student at Antelope Valley College offered us a momentary state of peace and tranquility.
We were plotting the death of our night, when Kelly opened the door, or should I say window, to what we now call our “upper room”.
There’s no honest way of describing our “upper room”, but in terms, it could be best defined as a room with no limits, no boundaries: pure mercy and wisdom.
From a near distance, my comedic associate Carson proclaimed that rain was invading a nearby city, while a thousand winds of thought punished our minds.
Lightning proceeded, but ironically God was in our favor. For once, maybe this occurrence wasn’t a cruel joke.
Through an exchange of mirth, coughing vigorously, our upper room was unveiling its many newfound perceptions of hope, prosperity, and the natural serenity that lingers for the hopeful and destined doers: young republicans and trust fund babies.
After some time spent in my own “upper room” I decided that life needed more than little breaks of petty drunkenness, or hazy lapses, because time is ever shortening, like money supply in a bad economy or the bourbon in a drunkards flask.
Sadly there is no more gray matter, it’s either die an intellectual infant, or grow old into a stubborn statue; either way you choose time will crystallize us all.
To get to the upper room you must first battle your nerves like the unavoidable personal but public hanging waiting for you.
Like jealous monks, we felt doom pounding its hell fire from radicals on both sides; the tired men who proclaim absolute knowledge of the universe.
Our sanity and peace of mind now lies in the arms of religious drones that love the social merry-go-round, and in the winter coat pockets of a slew of poor bachelors that love their frozen TV dinners and leather interiors.
The upper room isn’t cyclical be any means, and from now on, it seems, that the only ones destined to find it, will have to either serve a higher purpose or cause; that or slip Kelly twenty dollars at the window.
These days we’re running out of breadth in our upper room. No pity for boundaries or qualifications; it’s the mere lack of imagination in our clan of failed seekers and social dropouts.
At this point it’s best to be positive, living in a state of panic and poverty could drive any person down. A few codes of ethics for the “Upper Room” might get you by:
1. Burn all of your possessions, take off your clothes and walk back into the forest.
2. Treat your mind like a somber tiger Lilly, learn to be still and listen to the ground; it speaks.
3. Rub your face with mud from the earth, let it dry in the sun and let the rains be the only thing that cleanses you.
4. Drink from the top of every river and use nature’s medicine.
5. Those who abuse earth’s beauty in anyway are deserving of ten days in a tribal stockade.
6. Knowledge is everything, remember that you are temporary, and what you leave should be permanent in spirit, not squander.
7. Eat from the stocks of grains, pick berries; learn to bake on hot stones.
8. Use what the universe offers as a humble gesture, appreciate the casual but always thrive for genuine progression.
9. Keep in mind that you can only foster the journey, never neglect the one’s you love.
10. Love all things, the cosmos, the mortal, and the unknown.
When we choose to understand, we really sing Hallelujah. So you of little worth, you too can believe; like any fledgling yet cultured stooge.
- By Wes Horowitz
