In the beginning, before the foundations of the world were laid, Wisdom danced. Her laughter echoed through the formless void, a joyous invitation to a feast beyond imagining. And as the Word spoke light into being, Wisdom’s Table was set, adorned with the fruits of creation and the bread of life.

Oh, to sit at that Table! To taste the wine of Divine Love, aged in the cellars of eternity! Yet we, in our finite frames, shrink from the light. We hide in shadows of our own making, clutching fig leaves of shame to our chests. We forget that we were made for glory, for communion, for the great dance of creation.

But Wisdom still calls. Her voice rings out in the streets, in the marketplace, in the depths of our hearts. “Come!” she cries, “All is ready! The fatted calf is slain, the best robe awaits. Come, prodigals and elder sons alike, come to the Father’s embrace!”

At her Table, there unfolds a curious alchemy. Here, the hidden things of darkness are brought to light – not to condemn, but to transform. Our wounds become windows. Our scars become stars. The very things we thought would destroy us become the light by which we see the world anew. All that the light shines on not only becomes visible: it becomes light, as the Apostle Paul says (Eph 5:13-14).

Remember, oh soul, remember! For memory is the handmaiden of Wisdom. Not mere recollection, but a living, breathing remembrance that knits together our fragmented selves. In remembering, we are re-membered, our scattered parts gathered into a new whole.

See how Wisdom’s feast makes room for all! Here sit the rule-keepers and the boundary-pushers, the black-and-white thinkers and the embracers of grey. Their differing gifts, once a cacophony of conflict, become a symphony of praise under Wisdom’s conducting hand. All the birds of the air are gathered here, and nested in her ample branches.

And what of those dark growths, those hidden sins we dare not name? What about all the black flowers, the sour fruits that have sprung up in our secret garden of shame? Bring them to the Table! Her invitation is no less: bring them, yes, bring them to the Table. In Wisdom’s economy, nothing is wasted. The compost of our failures becomes fertile soil for new life. Our tears water the seeds of joy. Our confessions become songs of deliverance.

Oh, the depths of the riches of this wisdom and knowledge! How unsearchable are her judgments and her paths beyond tracing out! For Wisdom’s ways are not our ways, her thoughts not our thoughts. She leads us by paths we do not know, to places we never dreamed existed.

In her light, we see light. The scales fall from our eyes, and we behold the world as it truly is – shot through with glory, groaning in travail, yearning for redemption. And we, once blind beggars, become seers and prophets, seated with Christ in the high places, co-heirs with Him of the Divine.

So come, weary travelers, to Wisdom’s feast! Bring your broken hearts, your unanswered questions, your unfulfilled longings. Bring your intellect and your intuition, your reason and your passion. Here, at this Table, all are welcome, all are needed, all are transformed.

Wisdom is building her house, and we are her living stones. With each act of love, each choice for reconciliation, each moment of awe-struck wonder, we add our note to her cosmic symphony. And one day, when the veil is lifted and we see face to face, we will find that we have been feasting at her Table all along.

Until that day, let us feast and remember. Let us wrestle and reconcile. Let us dive deep into the mystery and soar high on the winds of grace. For Wisdom’s banquet is spread before us, a foretaste of the age to come. And her banner over us is love.

Mossymonk86 would teach that the cosmos is woven with layers of sacred reality, each one a veil over the ultimate mysteries that dwell beyond our mortal perception. He would scratch in the dirt with his finger, and trace out the words of Psalm 69: “Let heaven and earth praise him, the seas and everything that moves in them” (Psalm 69:34), or he would intone from Psalm 96, “Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea roar, and all that fills it; let the field exult, and everything in it!” (Psalm 96:11-12) And he would promise, with the Apostle Paul, that “At the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:10-11). He would raise the hood of his cowl, and peer out from the shadows; and with his voice booming and his eyes glowing, he would whisper, “Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep?” (Job 38:16).

Heaven is the ethereal expanse where the mind ascends, encountering the pure noetic essences in their ranks and orders. Here, angelic beings whisper secrets of the cosmos, and vertical causality aligns with the eternal forms. This is the realm of the noumenal, the realm of the emergent, the space of pure consciousness, where the right brain, unfettered by the limits of time and space, dances with the imaginal and the intuitive. Symbols here are not mere signs, but living gateways to the ineffable, a language spoken in the tongues of angels, guiding the soul toward the celestial archetypes.

Earth is the sacred plane where spirit takes on flesh, where the abstract dreams of Heaven become incarnate in the material world. This is the realm of the senses, where the fivefold gates of perception open to reveal the mysteries of the tangible. Horizontal causality weaves its tapestry here, binding together the myriad forms of creation into a grand, interconnected web, whose threads are stories and memories. Earth is the alchemical crucible where the sacred and the profane intermingle, where the soul learns through the textures, colors, and sounds of the material world.

The Seas and all that dwell in them are the deep, primal waters of the soul, where emotions and passions surge like the tides, pulled by the invisible hand of the moon. These are the mysteries of the unknown, the uncontrollable forces that rise from the depths of the unconscious, both wild and wondrous. The seas are a mirror to the soul’s innermost desires and fears, their ceaseless motion reflecting the turmoil and tranquility of the human heart. Here, the intuitive meets the chaotic, and within the churning depths lies the potential for both creation and destruction.

Under the Earth lies the shadowed realm, the underworld of divergent forces that stir beneath the surface of reality. This is the domain of division, chaos, and opposition, where diabolical energies seek to fracture and fragment the unity of the cosmos. Yet even here, in the heart of darkness, there is a hidden wisdom—a paradoxical truth that destruction is but a precursor to renewal, and chaos the seedbed of new creation. This is the realm where the mysteries of death and rebirth are played out, where the soul must journey to confront the shadows and emerge transformed.

But these realms are not separate but intertwined, each one reflecting aspects of the divine mystery; a mirror to the sociopsychosomatic unity of the human person; alive with the same erotothanatic and erotovital energies that suffuse all creation. To live wisely is to navigate these realms with reverence and awe, discerning the sacred within the profane, the eternal within the temporal, the light within the darkness.

He would also teach that each of these domains can be further subdivided, revealing ever more intricate layers of sacred reality. The masters throughout the ages, he would explain, have drawn different maps to explore the same territory. These varied systems of thought – from Kabbalistic Sephiroth to Buddhist realms of existence, from alchemical stages to depth psychology’s unconscious landscapes – all attempt to chart the vast, multidimensional nature of consciousness and spirit. Their languages and symbols differ, but they all seek to illuminate the ineffable Whole that lies beyond ordinary perception.

Mossymonk86 always emphasized that these diverse mappings remind us that while the ultimate reality remains constant, our ways of understanding and navigating it are as varied as human experience itself. He would caution against mistaking any single map for the territory itself, urging instead a recognition that each perspective offers a unique glimpse into the cosmic mysteries. The wise seeker, he would say, learns to read many maps, understanding that each offers valuable insights while remaining humble before the vastness of the unknown.

But then he would stand up, suddenly, at the end of his lessons, his face aglow, and his beard part and lift, as though flames encircling his head, and he would stretch his arms into the air, and open his mouth in the melodies of ecstatic speech, and he would speak of the Gospel.

The Gospel, he would say, radiates outward as the ultimate cosmic mystery, a wellspring of divine love that permeates all realms — visible and invisible, known and unknown, whether nouminal or phenomenal, material, psychical, or spiritual; symbolic or diabolic. This Gospel, he would say, is not merely a message, but the fabric of reality itself, woven with threads of grace so profound that it defies full comprehension.

He would speak of how grace flows like a river through all domains of existence, nourishing every aspect of creation with its life-giving essence. In the ethereal expanse of Heaven, it is the pure light of divine acceptance, illuminating the noetic realms with unconditional love. On Earth, it takes on flesh, becoming tangible in acts of compassion and forgiveness and reconciliation that transcend human understanding, proclaimed and embodied in every generation. In the depths of the Sea, it surges as a current of renewal, washing away the accumulated sediment of shame and fear. Even Under the Earth, in the shadowed realms of chaos and division, Christ is present, preaching to the souls imprisoned, lifting dead Adam by the wrist, and transforming death into the seedbed of new life.

With tears, Mossymonk86 would exhort brothers and seekers alike to the realization that the Gospel is not a set of rules or a system of merits, but a living, breathing reality that invites participation through simple openness and receptivity. It is, he would insist, a mystery that confounds our attempts at categorization or control, always exceeding our grasp yet drawing us ever deeper into its embrace. That the call to repentance is not a call to “clean up our act” and just live a little bit better of a moralistic existence, but a change in our whole life and being brought about by the free and irrepressible proclamation of the absolute fire of the divine love penetrating from our inmost depths, that causes us to repent of repentance itself, and all the ways in which we try to leverage spirituality to make ourselves better, holier people, rather than bask in the free infinitude of this all suffusing, all sustaining mystery.

He would teach that to understand this Gospel truly is to be astonished by it perpetually, to be absorbed in unending, uninterruptable, ecstatic delight, to stand struck dumb in awe before its boundless generosity. It is to recognize that in every atom of creation, in every moment of time, the love of Christ is at work, reconciling all things to himself. The Cross of Christ, he would declare, is where the map and territory are combined – a living way that guides us through the multifaceted realms of existence while simultaneously being the destination itself.