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Prayer for You
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FWA Sainthood Search Committee: Applications accepted
The Free Will Astrology Sainthood Search Committee is now accepting applications from original sinners of all religious and zodiacal persuasions. If you would like to be considered for sainthood, all you have to do is prove that you've developed a successful working relationship with your own dark side. (For help, read this.)Send your evidence and testimony to Sainthood, Box 150247, San Rafael, CA 94915 or zenpride@freewillastrology.com. If you're one of the naughty angels selected, you will be authorized to place "St." in front of your name and to demand that the entire world treat you as a holy wise-guy or wise-gal. Now read excerpts from the applications submitted by our most recent crop of Libran saints: Carmen was compelled to nominate her sister, ST. VILENCIA, for sainthood. Why? "She is a full-blooded Serbian gypsy, psychic, and human resources director from hell. Like nitroglycerine, she can gently save your life or blow it to smithereens." ST. WHAT, an applicant who preferred to remain unnamed, aimed for supplicant status by reporting, "Last weekend, this conservative Libra got totally in touch with his 'dark side' by singing a duet of 'These Boots Are Made For Walking' with a never-to-be-had-girlfriend on Karaoke Night at a French bistro in Beverly Hills. Unequivocal grounds for sainthood, oui?" ST. CATE defined her dark side succinctly by saying that it consists exactly of "a lack of trust in myself and others. Most deleterious, a lack of trust in cosmic goodness and universal divinity. Once I accepted my dark side, I could begin to use my natural strengths to integrate it. When I was no longer afraid to look at it, it lost the advantage of being unknown. Now, the lack of trust is actually my friend. Every time it comes around, it reminds me how bad life was before and motivates me to get back into a place of trust again." This poor lad, ST. ANONYMOUS, had to bite the Sainthood bullet the, um, hard way, declaring on May 22, 2001 that, "I had my heart broken on Friday the 11th of May at 9:30 p.m. I immediately went for my first drink in 10 years and I have been on an orgasm campaign ever since. According to my calculations, I have since bestowed 37 orgasms to the seven women I have dated, and plan to extend these figures to over 100 before the end of the month. This protest will last until my heart is mended, or I die of exhaustion, whichever comes first. I would like," he solemnly declares, "to be known to future generations of devouts as Saint Eric The Orgasmer." All hail! ST. JAN, a Canadian Wellness Coach, said, "My biggest challenge with the New Age/spiritual community is their terminal seriousness. . . . My dark side has been well-developed and I consider it very entertaining. I love spoofing those psychospiritual babblists who earnestly talk about the needs of their Inner Child with so little joy and absolutely no spontaneity." ST. SCOTT promised, should he achieve white robes and manna, to "wear it well and wield it with a perfectly reasonable amount of megalomania." He sought saint consideration due to finding an upside to his downside. Being "a pagan punk boy trying to adapt to someone's middle-class gay male routine," Scott had his heart broken. "It left me feeling horribly achy, unloved, misunderstood, and under-appreciated. A mediocre martyrdom, but enough arrows stuck in me to last me 'til summer. . ." Then dark good fortune struck when a group called "Radical Faeries," producers of a gay men's 'zine, approached him, loved his "feral dredlocks," and bought photos of him rejected by another magazine. "The Faeries told me they'd like to . . . steep me in attention from the sort of people who'd truly appreciate me. It feels like a thorough rebuke to all the 'lookism' and reductive mentality that's dogged me for so long. I'll be appearing in the summer issue of 'Fanorama,' dreds and all, along with my new title of 'Shamanarchist.'" ST. LUNA testified that it is distinctly unsaintly to go about thinking about what one does or says in an effort to be saintly. But that dark side stuff makes sense. After all, she comes by it naturally. "My shadow is my DNA," she wrote. "I have this father. He is a rigid crust enhancer, a wasteful bit, and his sense of humor is terribly out of tune. All this life, I have been trying to be exactly not him, gradually erasing all traits of his side of the family -- in fact, going super far out of the way to [be] opposite his lifestyle, voice, demeanor. . . . But now, I believe this is silly. Without his horrifying example, I might still be choosing mates who like to beat up on women, drink till they are barely human, and lie and force their way through life. He has caused so much damage to my little-girl mind that just in overcoming some of the flaming alligators he has shot at me, I am becoming a woman of immense strength. He gives me something to fight (me), and gives me a subject to rage on. He gives me this shadow of mine, a very strong, very strange, and very mysterious hazard to ignite. Making peace? Not done. Forgiveness? Still beyond my means. Working relationship? Oh yes. For the moment, this works." ST. SUSANNE said that the journey to her dark side has taught her that it is "a wonderful haven unlike anyone else's. A place I can explore anytime I like when I feel the need arise to remember I'm not here to please anyone. A place I can be myself and enjoy myself. A place where I am not judged. I am a warrior with needs unlike anyone else. I have learned not to be a prisoner of these needs but to satisfy them as needed to provide the means necessary to fulfill my duties in carrying out God's work in my life." This unnamed applicant, ST. WHOKNOWS, declared herself the "Blue-Titted Saint of Extremes," reasoning that she is, "Trying to find a balance between bacchanalian frenzies of a slightly out-of-control nature and a puritanical work ethic. A bit difficult at times, but I'm trying to float through it now with less self-admonishment. [I'm] more forgiving all around of my foibles, I pay less lip service to superfluous Christian archetypes of sin and guilt, and let my heart do more of the thinking. Life, sex, love, and exuberant human interaction is a beautiful thing especially when it's accompanied by a healthy amount of sobriety and the chance to work. Nothing's gained but wasted time thinking about how you've made a tit of yourself. What's a tit, anyway, but a lovely little blue bird?" ST. MARY admitted, that despite "honing my girl-girl rep all month as the dutiful daughter, running and fetching for my recently disabled father and helping his ditzy 80-year-old sister find a new place to live because -- oops! -- she didn't realize she had sold her house, I still pried opened my nerve to my Internet friends and uploaded my trashy, sweaty fantasy stories of my favorite wrestlers. Is this act dark enough? I also bought new steam curlers and wore my hair down at work twice this week. I'm going wild, I tell you!" Indeed! This respondent, ST. UNIDENTIFIED, has struggled with such work-related issues as not being a "Gumby," trying to keep a position that he doesn't much like but that affords "weekends at Fire Island," and still "being able to breathe" when a date is broken, among other small pleasures. But perhaps his greatest affiliation with his dark side was in "being able to give more of myself -- without losing myself on a range of levels. [M]aybe I've broadened my range, without losing some of my voice or expecting the world to come back because of my giving. Anyway, I hope so -- nobody's perfect, but we can try, I guess." ST. NAUGHTY LIBRAN summoned forth the "little slut within" and then some, happy to relate that "a couple of weeks ago I introduced myself to this gorgeous specimen of male perfection at a party in the park. We talked and he invited me to another party, but despite my best efforts, I was unable to get there. I couldn't just allow myself to pine away indefinitely over what could have been, so at work the next day, I got onto this data base we use for looking up phone numbers. . . . I gave him a call, told him how I'd tracked him down, and this man was mighty impressed by my forwardness. We met up that night and ended up leaving his friends behind at the bar to go make out in his front yard for awhile. Well, I went home that night and decided I wasn't going to be doing anybody any favors by pretending that my whole purpose in hunting him down was anything other than hot, crazy, sweaty sex, so we proceeded to get right down to business from that point on. "I tell you what, getting in touch with the little slut within has done wonders for my sex life! I've opened up new doors, left all inhibition behind, and am currently having the best sex of my entire life. I have learned an all-too-valuable lesson from my approach to this 'relationship': if you get everything out on the table, there can't be any ulterior motives to trip you up, and it leaves much more room for what's really important -- having the best damn time of your life! So there you have it: I've not only reached a working relationship with my dark side, but she may very well be my new best friend!" ST. SHAUN of Sydney, Australia, provided a full laundry list of reasons why sainthood should mantle his or her shoulders. Here are some highlights -- "I put forward the following evidence to support my application: * I am currently staying in a house where the entrance to the attic fell off the first day I arrived, so that I can see up into that scary space every time I go up the stairs to bed. The other night as I lay down, a voice, clear as a bell in my head, said 'Hello.' I am open to the strange behaviors taking place there, and see my shadow in a lot of them. * I understand that to fuel my creative fires I need to allow my dark side expression, so have stopped smoking and started speaking my mind, joined a choir to sing it all out, and allow white-hot anger to grip me when the need takes me. * I have been for so many years now so damn NICE, and have allowed myself this year to stop such behavior. In fact, this year is all about ME. This follows decades of trying to get my needs met by being nice to others and meeting their needs first. I am consciously practicing not commenting on people's new haircuts, not saying the first nice thing that comes into my mind when I see someone, not apologizing for cutting in front of someone, not saying 'Bless You' when someone sneezes, etc. What's more, I am having fun not doing all these things. I'm sure you'd agree this is yet more evidence of my developing working relationship with my shadow, but if you don't, I sure as hell DON'T CARE. * Joy is my companion, integrity my friend, anger my protector, laughter my partner, silliness my strength, surety my guide." ST. ROSSELL wasn't sure about the terms "successful working relationship," being more drawn to "a forceful acceptance of my shadow in the emblazoned desert, or an earthly ejection to the black side of the moon. Either way -- that dark side has attempted Sainthood in my Garden of Eden for quite a while now, and even though he or she or it has shown up to the masquerade ball of my psyche at every invitation dressed as a sinner and a saint, the relationship has, indeed, reached a plateau of mutual acceptance and continued disgust. Does that qualify as 'working'?" Yep! Nowadays, ST. PETER is a therapist specializing in adolescents' issues who used to be a much more pliable guy. Uh, uh. No more. "As I have evolved, I have shoved the peace stuff to the side and have shaken these kids to the bone. No is no and when I mean no it is no," he wrote. "In terms of relationships, I have finally taken control of myself and laid out what my feelings are and stood by them without a twinge of Libran need to make the peace. I now stand before you a stronger man, one that has found the back bone to match my heart." Wow! OK, sometimes would-be saints enjoy pulling a fast one, as with those fake letters that Dear Abby and Hustler magazine sometimes get. At first glance, this one might have been a hoax, but on re-reading, it appears that there may indeed be a saint (or two) in this story from a graduate student in Wisconsin: "For the last five months I felt like I was swimming through glue that was oozing from my own pores. There was never a moment to do the petty yet Draconian tasks that I was being assigned. It had gotten so bad that I felt like I was sleepwalking through my life, and that everyone else was sleep walking through their own lives just so they wouldn't disturb my semi-animated corpse." The writer continued that he slept briefly in advance of giving an important presentation, showered, and ate a delicious hot breakfast that his wife had cooked. "My wife said that she had laid out 'my best clothes' for my presentation and said she couldn't wait to see me properly dressed after months of hermit-like squalor. She led me into the bedroom where she had laid out an entire wardrobe of women's clothing in my size: Everything from tasteful pinstriped business suits to denim skirts to a teddy and five inch platform heels. She smiled seductively and said, 'The missing pieces are in here somewhere, and you are just going to have to try and try again to figure out which ones they are.' Tossing me the teddy, she said, 'This one is for your presentation today.' Confused enough to be obedient, I put it on. She then handed me other selections from the pile to finish the ensemble. They left me looking both opulently masculine and subtly, iridescently, and gorgeously feminine. I did as she suggested and delivered my presentation dressed head-to-toe in women's clothing, laughing at the ridiculous brilliance of the situation (my audience was almost completely composed of Republican politicians) and glowing from the realization that my wise-gal wife was right: the missing pieces were in that pile somewhere. "Later, when we were making intense, passionate tantric love for the first time in months. . . she whispered: 'The only cure for unrequited true love is to yourself become the beloved. Your recent struggles have been caused by your unrequited love for yourself. Since you are so limp in the face of your own glorious self, I sentence you to forever be the strong women who ignored your pitiful masculinity as you held wretched, smoking -- but lightless -- torches for them. I do this in the hope that you will accidentally see your own reflection in their luminescent mirrors and know for the first time. Henceforth, you will be Kristina Marie. Now rise girlfriend, and get me a glass of water.' "Since then, I have found that I, Kristina Marie Peterson, can perform all of those tasks that previously weighed down my poor male self. I float from assignment to assignment in diaphanous silk skirts, lipstick, and heels, not sleepwalking -- but in lucid dreams and better yet, in lucid reality. Now, of course, the principal mover of my transformation was my wife, but I would not dare recommend her for sainthood since she is the Goddess Kali incarnate. Instead, I ask for consideration for sainthood for myself, since I have already gone through the truly transformative rites of beatification and have decided to stay beatified." What do YOU think? Exactly: Does his wife keep regular office hours? ST. BEKAH knew that it wasn't nice when her dog LeRoy greeted a new neighbor by biting the woman. Perhaps a regular saint wouldn't be two ways about it, but this is a Dark Side Saint, and one who is awfully familiar: "The neighbor responded to my fawning apologies the way the forest fire ate Bambi's mom. Now, keep in mind, the neighbor had just built a zillion-square-foot obscenity in the spot in 'my' woods where I've seen bear, deer, God. I'd been alternating in my inner dialogue between being friendly and rehearsing a verbal drop kick. Then LeRoy took matters into his own paws/jaws. I felt conflicted. Serves her right. Yikes! What am I saying? Today, as I walked past the home-on-steroids, I repeated this prayer, 'I bless and release you.' OK, I also struggled to dampen less gracious thoughts, but there you have it. I'm not really glad LeRoy chomped at her." Is it really fair or good to reprint ST. MARK's dark side application? You decide. "Possible qualifications: Since April 2, have quit two jobs that were fun and decent-paying and flexible; stiffed my room mate for the utilities (although I did pay rent through June); stopped paying off the credit cards; left close friends and family; hopped a freight train in Minneapolis and got off in Milwaukee (because my feet were very cold), where I've stolen Calvin Klein clothing, all-natural peanut butter, maple syrup, and smoked gouda cheese; run a scam on a major airline. Oh yeah, have also just started working as a bouncer in a strip club, which is the reason I haven't moved on yet. An experience like that seemed too good to pass up." ST. SAGE is appropriately named. She recounted how one disastrous affair segued, once she allowed the forces to flow, into a different, most beauteous affair, boiling it down to two salient points: "1) You get what you settle for. If you hold out, you may never find what you want, but if you like yourself, you'll never be disappointed in what you find. "2) Strength will always carry you through and is often rewarded generously." ST. FELICE deserves her desserts because she has been "letting my previously suppressed New York-ness seep through all the cracks of this Nashville experience. Being first and feeling great about it. Waking up with my inner child screeching through my consciousness and allowing her the delightful pleasure of saying exactly what she feels about everyone she meets. Telling two heavily made-up Southern belles at the Junior Chamber of Commerce that the secret to my youthful appearance comes from wearing as little make-up as possible, right there in front of the Beauti-Control cosmetics woman. Coming back from a journey into some Buddhistic Oz and walking right into the dark veil with absolute trust. Waking peacefully from nightmare visions of creatures that crawl under my skin but never rattle my bones." ST. ALINA wasn't exactly sure she completely understood the assignment, but gave it her best shot, thus showing that she did in fact completely understand the assignment. "I have recently 're-discovered' myself, or better yet, discovered someone, or something inside me that I didn't know existed: The capability to be totally self-indulgent, self-sufficient, and self-centered. I am now on the pursuit of the ultimate pleasure (be it sexual, emotional, etc.), and have begun to experiment and try things that I would never have imagined myself doing before. I take on a completely different persona; a woman with power, strong desires -- and I keep this hidden from others in day-to-day life (simply because I think having this kind of secret is the sweetest thing -- it makes me smile to think of it)." ST. THOMAS THE BEAUTIFUL INSIDE & OUT OF BROOKLYN offered a swell self-canonization proclamation, thus: "I deserve to be dubbed St. Thomas the Beautiful Inside & Out of Brooklyn because I have spent the last several weeks in touch with my dark side. As for evidence, well, I am finally able to admit to myself that I am a SEXY FUCK! (That's a good term here in Brooklyn.) And although not everyone would think so, lots do! I learned that I can be confident and walk through life without fear. I also learned that I want and need intimacy of a physical and emotional nature, and that it is OK for me to go out there and get it! I went into my dark side and you know what? I liked it. And it is now invited to hang out and meet the 'goody, goody, don't offend anybody and make sure you don't get hurt side.' So to sum this all up, I would have to say, I want a lot more in life than I have been willing to admit. I want FAME, a PHYSICAL-INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP with someone(s) HOT and COOL like me, a kick-ass APARTMENT, and a BEACH HOUSE. And even though my light side wants to start explaining this all away in spiritual mumbo jumbo -- you know, don't caught up in the material, etc. -- I am going to honor my newfound dark side and say to it all YES, YES, FUCKING YES! Instead of my dark side and light side battling, I have now decided to let them meet and make love!" Meanwhile, ST. CHRISTINE overcame the two evil twins of a bad mother and disappearing lover, and ST. ANDREW came fully to terms with his dark side at the recent New Orleans Jazz Festival, indulging in everything from anarchy to homosexuality to the blowing of his savings -- and he's not apologizing for any of it. And this respondent, ST. GOODRAGE, wisely reasoned, "I've figured out how to turn my rage at the mistreatment I experienced as a child into a classic tale of revenge against the ideas which made that possible. And the funny thing is: (it's too involved, I can't explain it) I'm going to win. Hard to believe, but someone born in the Sign of the Twit is, in reality, going the way of T.E. Lawrence, when all of the guns opposing him were pointing to the sea." ST. KEVIN prayed, "For give me sainthood, Lord, for I have sinned. I coveted another man's wife this week, but left it at that. I drank an ungodly amount of beer, but God still loves me, for I am a happy drunk. I, the white knight, looked into his shadowy suit of armor (or is it amour?) this week, intimately interacted with what was inside, and didn't have a problem with it. Your application came just in time so I thought it appropriate to seek sainthood. Please grant this wish along with a suitable sweetie who will stand by my side, as you know I will her. Is it not my turn?" ST. ADRIANA told her family exactly where to get off and that felt good. The she roared, "I am learning that my dark side is mine! I own it, and it ain't all that bad! It is only the part of me that I allowed to die off because I was told I should be seen and not heard. I should memorize my lines and move as directed. Well, now I am a grown woman who owns her own emotions, and I can say what I feel and not restrict my thoughts. I may not agree with what people say, but I will die defending their right to say it!" "I believe that I am worthy of such sainthood because my dark side has been darker than usual," wrote ST. NAUGHTY ANGEL. "I began dating a lovely Capricorn fellow about a week ago, then an Aries ex- came back into my life and I sort of started seeing him, too. Librans are flirts and they love to balance things, but I have found that this situation takes extra practice. Part of my lighter side whispers that I don't need either of them but the darker part of me just sings with joy because I was born in the sun sign of relationships -- why not exercise that birthright times two? That is, of course, until I can actually decide on one of them. They know about each other. Therefore, I should be declared Saint Diane, wise-gal and naughty angel. What do you think?" Done! "I am very much working towards a relationship with my dark side, and I just got a whammy!," related ST. RENEE. "I [had] just returned from a spectacular visit to New York city. . . . I met kindred spirits literally all over the place, even starting on the bus from Newark to New York, where the driver drove me not to the World Trade Center (the destination of the bus) but to the door of the apartment where I was staying! Each day brought new meetings, conversations, and the graduate program I visited loved me and wanted me. Total affirmation. "Then, when I got home, I [received] a forwarded e-mail from my host, with whom I thought everything was fine and with whom I felt I had a warm rapport: 'You know how having someone as a houseguest is usually problematic for me. Renee was easier than the musician from Canada, but had a sense of entitlement that filled the apartment, even bigger than Chucky's! Seemed surprised that I didn't want to buy her coffee and dessert, after putting her up for three nights, had to break her last $20. Awww. And all that whining about the $35K. It was interesting to meet her, but I wouldn't invite her again.' "Chucky is the dog! "Now, you don't know me, but let me tell you, I am one of those charming, graceful, considerate Libras. . . . Or am I? "This floored me completely. I have been launched into a deep reflection on what this 'entitlement' is all about. I am realizing there were some tricky dynamics between us, including my dilemma of being offered a job that is below what I consider a living wage in NYC ($35K), and the fact this woman owns her own beautiful apartment, has people who clean for her, and essentially does not have to work. Money is not an issue for her, so to her I was 'whining.' And I am on unemployment, so yes, I was trying to save my last $20 for my transportation back to the airport. But with more grace, I would have sprung anyway, and dealt with it later. I stay with people often, and have never had complaints. "This has been a very painful experience for me, and I like to think it is forcing me into a working relationship with whatever dark side has incurred this situation. I need to watch my resentment of those who have wealth, and not act it out in what may appear to be 'entitlement' -- and also not assume friendship right away from someone who may very well not be a friend. I need to be aware that some people find having guests difficult, and to watch for those signs. I must always gift a person who is hosting me while there, not later. I must not take for granted the generosity of those who have abundance (watch my 'share the wealth' assumptions and ethos.) Does this qualify?" In spades, but as Dear Abby would say to such a non-hoax, whomever forwarded that e-mail to you has some explaining to do as well. ST. KINCAID, below, should meet St. Renee, above. They might find some common ground. "I would like to apply for sainthood, or perhaps I should say martyrhood, but it's one and the same thing, no? My case: Last week the man whose script I have labored to produce these past two-and-a-half years, having finally managed to shepherd it to a successful stage run after a litany of difficulties and problems too great to go into here -- this man has decided that I should not be paid for my work, that there are still some outstanding expenses and that we should share them. Notwithstanding that he has a lovely two-story newly remodeled home in Venice, [CA] (a couple of months ago they were trying to figure out which $5,500 dining table to purchase) and I have a small shack in Silverlake. It's his baby and I'm just the handmaiden, etc. I had already learned my lesson about pouring my energy into other's projects while my own languished, but this was the capper on the whole situation. Do I qualify? I've already served as muse and as temple priestess to the gods of Theatre. And St. Kincaid has such a lovely ring, don't you think?" But there's a light at the end of some tunnels, as ST. DONNA wrote, "I am in the midst of leaving an angry, violent relationship with an alcoholic man who is the father of my gorgeous, angelic one-year-old son. My dark side is that I knew who this guy was for the four years before we had the baby -- I mean, I realized what he was like -- but I was so desperate for love, so scared I'd never have a child, so afraid, that I kept trying. I am now a proud member of Al-Anon and I am walking with a strength and self-love I never had before. I almost think I never would have gotten here unless I had hit bottom, and I was fortunate, because my 'bottom' was also my 'top,' in that I have a great baby to be a great mom to." And ST. JESSICA said that, "My venture into my own dark side (with surprisingly positive results) has been a duel journey. Between becoming lovers with my husband's friend (yes, he knows) and grieving over my departed stepfather, I think I have crossed over into the territory you speak of. It feels pretty dark yet beautifully healing." And finally, ST. K. presented her tidy list of saintly qualities for consideration -- "Please review the following list of things I've done in the last two weeks. I humbly submit these as my burnt toast offerings for dark side sainthood: * Kissed and groped for 20 minutes a man (mutual attraction, but he has a girlfriend) with whom I am close friends. * Wore the ugliest pair of pink and maroon patent leather sneakers to work with a classic black skirt just to annoy the fashion divas with whom I share an office. * Ate fattening desserts in front of dieting fashion divas and complained about being fat when I know I'm not. * Told another man that I didn't want to be romantically involved with him in a not very tactful way when his three desk-side visits, nine phone calls, and 14 e-mails a day seemed to be on the increase. Wanted a climbing buddy, not a stalker. * Killed the ants that are trying to move into the window box in the kitchen. (Is murder over the top?) * Overdrew my bank account by £200 by the 8th of the month (I don't get paid until the 30th again) -- oops. * Smoked a cigarette even though I've never smoked (it made me dizzy and I won't try that again). * Drank a lot of wine and champagne after work four times just because it was sunny outside -- I live in England so it's never sunny, a paltry excuse for celebration, I know. * Was asked by a neighbor if I was into swinging and would I like to do a threesome with his wife and him. Not my fault, but since then my flatmates and I have made him the butt of some not very clean jokes. "OK. Is that dark enough?" |
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© 1995-2008 -- Rob Brezsny. All rights reserved
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