Catacosmesis (kat-a-kos-mees’-is): Ordering words from greatest to least in dignity, or in correct order of time.
Heaven and earth! Spirit and matter! We are born, we live, we die. Some people live their entire lives enamored with heaven, their spirt or soul, and their death, putting them out of the here and now. Sometimes I wish I could put the here and now out of play and focus my thoughts and feelings on the Great Beyond. Out of curiosity, I’ve tried, and I am trying, three time-tested methods.
Self-flagellation: Whacking your naked back with a leather metal-studded thong, has a sort of appeal, not unlike masturbation—it is self inflicted and it is supposed to result in some kind epiphany. But as much as I try when I beat my back, I can’t get there. I just yell “Ow!” and keep on slamming. Whoever invented flagellation as a spiritual exercise was a little creepy. There were people like St. Fleshrip, who had stand-ins to keep whipping him when his arm got tired. He died from an exposed backbone and ascended directly to Heaven, where he sits behind God, holding his scourge to hand off to God if he should need it. Martin Luther was also a notorious self-whacker, as was Sarah Osborn, who strangely enough, practiced self-flagellation to improve her tennis swing, while at the same time contemplating her sinfulness, a feat that won her a place in the “Guinness Book of World Records” under the category of “multitasking.”
Hair Shirt: When I was a little boy, my mother purchased me a pair of goat fur underpants from the St. Thomas More website. I was having trouble in school, and they were supposed to be a remedy for poor study habits. My mother made me wear them when I was doing my homework, but the itching was more of a hindrance than a help. I spent half my time scratching my crotch, like I had jock itch from poor hygiene. So, I kept a tube of Cortisone in my desk. When mother left the room to use the toilet or make a cup of tea, I jammed a glob of Cortisone down my goat hair underpants and found almost instant relief from the itching. I excused my behavior by claiming to myself that my itchy underpants had prompted me to be creative, and I would give thanks: “Thank-You God for the itch-relieving balm of Cortisone.”
Fasting: Another body-bending adventure in self-torture! It’s easy! You just stop eating, and go for non-chewable commestibles, which in this case, are liquids. No more cheeseburgers. No more jelly donuts. No more sushi. When I last fasted, I drank strawberry Kool-Aid. My teeth became stained red from the Kool-Aid. I looked like I had a fatal case of gingivitis, The major benefit of fasting is getting out of cooking. If you’re smart, you’ll choose water as your fasting liquid of choice. All you have to do is turn on a faucet and fill up a glass! Convenient! Quick! No mixing! Totally liquid!
I’m fasting right now. I stopped pooping a week ago and my urethra is burning from the nearly endless stream of pee. Writing all this has been extremely difficult. I am dizzy and have had several visions. The best vision so far has been the red Cadillac in my driveway. I think the Lord has traded out my Subaru. Although I loved my Subaru, I am grateful for the Cadillac. Praise the Lord.
I’m thinking of dragging myself to the refrigerator in the kitchen and grabbing a tub of cheese dip and eating it with my finger. I hope I can reach the refrigerator handle. I hope I can reach the cheese dip. I hope I can reach the kitchen.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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