#for years it shall be beautiful and adoring in every of its particles

[vasiliquemort]

In bottomless rue being lost, in your heartaches being found

A piece that was created for a lovely, utterly so beautiful delight of a personality<зз

Thank you for thousand years!

[justkeeptrekkin]

Slow dancing as Good Omens fic prompt? I think slow dancing can be really intimate because of the proximity, the looks, the music...

bless you, anon. 

***

Aziraphale had never really felt lonely before. 

It may come as a surprise to many, but, truly, Aziraphale had never felt lonely. He is an angel who appreciates having time to himself. He is an angel who has chosen to roam Earth on an extended solo holiday for roughly six thousand years, Eat Pray Love style. He is an angel who has set up wards all around his bookshop so every customer is miraculously coerced into leaving the shop after ten minutes of perusing. Up in Heaven, Aziraphale is famous for being a soft, squishy introvert- baffling all the angels, archangels, cherubs and occasional saint. 

Being alone is nice. 

Being alone isn’t the same as being lonely. 

Now, Aziraphale does feel lonely. He stands in the centre of his empty bookshop. A bookshop filled with inanimate, dusty things, but no one there other than him. All these books that he’s always valued so highly, loved so dearly- he still does- but somehow, now, they’re all disappointing to him. The shop feels desolate. The dust particles dancing in the air no longer appear beautifully ethereal, only melancholic; the light pouring through the windowed dome up above feels pale and watery; the silence funerary. 

Aziraphale rests a hand on a copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost, and thinks of what he might be missing. 

A loud voice in his head tells him that he shouldn’t be thinking- why is he even trying to think about this? The answer is right there, sitting inside him and squirming happily, nervously, miserably. He knows what’s missing, what’s always been missing, yet what’s been there this whole time. Waiting for him. Staring at the chessboard expectantly for him to make his move. Handing over briefcases of books and offering lifts home. And it’s only really since the flop that was the apocalypse last week that he’s seen it for what it is. A perfect clarity, a glorious surety that Aziraphale has never, ever experienced till now- about anything.

It doesn’t come to him in a thought. The decision isn’t made through any logical thought process like: I know what to do. No, it comes to him in a surge, too sudden and overwhelming to hold back or consider for too long. Too sudden for his usual cowardice. 

Aziraphale’s feet take him to the phone. He runs his fingers through the numbers, turning the dial, and waits. 

He waits only three seconds.

“Alright, Angel.”

And it’s like that surge disappears as quickly as it came- a burst of air lifting a leaf off the ground, only to let it fall, fluttering to the cold, damp ground of reality. Aziraphale swallows. Feels the moment catch up with him with horrifying speed.

What is he meant to say now?

“H-hello, Crowley,” he says through a forced smile, though Crowley’s not there to see it. “I was. Well, I was just wondering.”

There’s a pause. A long one. Aziraphale’s mouth clamps shut. Now is not the time to falter, he thinks to himself. 

“Must be a big thing.” 

“Sorry?” he breathes, broken from his reverie.

“Big thing. That you’re wondering about. If you’re calling me and breathing down the phone. I can practically feel the anxiety creeping through the wires.”

His mouth opens and closes. Then opens again. And he croaks, “Yes. Um, what I wanted to say was. Was this.” He hesitates, but only for a beat too long. He scrunches his eyes closed. Scrunches them so tightly he can see stars. “Music.”

“Music?” Crowley repeats immediately, dumbfounded.

“Yes.”

“Music.”

“Yes,” he replies, sounding irritated. He’s irritated at himself more than Crowley. He’s rolling his eyes to himself for being so absurdly flappable. He is always the first to be flapped by the silliest things. 

“Right.” A pause. “You. So. Yeah, you’ve got to help me out here, Angel.” 

“What I mean to say- very, very badly, really,” he says, wincing again, “is whether you’d like to come round to the shop. Help me sort through my mess of a record collection that you’ve been nagging me about since 1964.”

Another pause. Then, “Oh.” Pause. Aziraphale’s perfect posture stiffens impossibly further. Ankles together, foot tapping. “Yeah. Well, what’s all the fuss about then? You sound stressed. Like a… a stressed person. Not a person asking someone round for a drink and some music.” Pause. “There will be drink, won’t there?”

It’s impossible that he finds himself smiling and relaxing, given how far up his throat his heart is currently climbing. And yet. “Oh yes. Don’t you worry, my dear, there will always be drink pouring.”

“Alright. Well, yes. Obviously yes. Even if you’re being weird. You are aware that you’re being weird, aren’t you?”

“Painfully aware, yes,” Aziraphale answers truthfully. Then, quickly, “Shall I uncork the Montepulciano and let it breathe?”

***

They’re on their knees by a teetering stack of vinyl records. The bottle of Montepulciano is finished and there’s another uncorked on the desk beside them. There’s the smell of grapes and dust, a combination that’s become a smell of home to Aziraphale. Made all the more familiar and comforting by Crowley being here, by his side, tearing his beautiful red hair out in annoyance. 

“This one isn’t even in a sleeve,” Crowley announces, aghast. He waves the vinyl in Aziraphale’s face, yellow eyes wide. “When are you going to look after the rest of your things the same way you look after books?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he replies casually, knowing that’ll just infuriate Crowley further. 

It does- he growls desperately, creating a new neat pile of vinyls without sleeves, next to the piano music pile, to the right of the 1500-1600s classical pile. Aziraphale smiles sweetly at him, and Crowley points an accusatory finger, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“You,” he starts. “You need to get some shelves. Otherwise. Otherwise, I’ll come round here every day to check that you’re putting them somewhere safe.”

I wouldn’t stop you, Aziraphale thinks. I invited you here because you fill up my life. He says, “I don’t have room for shelves.”

Crowley’s mouth hangs open. He casts his gaze about the shop, gestures to the room. “It’s a bookshop! Tonnes of shelves! What’s one more pissing shelf going to do? Tear the fabric of the universe? ‘Sides,” he slurs, one class of red too many perhaps, “you could just extend the shop a smidge or two. Miracle it a cheeky inch or two bigger. Encroach on the neighbours’ space, sure they won’t notice.”

“Perhaps.” He thinks about this as Crowley blows the dust off a vinyl record of Mendelssohn. “Although I reckon they would. Humans can be horribly observant.”

Crowley hums knowingly. “Oh, yeah. When they want to be. When they don’t, they’ll turn a blind eye to anything.”

Aziraphale watches Crowley for a second longer. Tears his gaze away and looks down at the Glenn Miller record in his hands. He feels the dog-eared edges, soft cardboard between his fingers. He peers down at the smiling, black and white image of Miller and he’s taken immediately back to 1941. The Blitz, the smell of ash and smoke and the smallest, most precious moment of fingers touching. A feeling of pure adoration that’s never left him- that’s been there since the beginning, waiting. Triggered by one moment. 

And just like before when his feet took him to the phone, Aziraphale’s body is taken by a surge of surety, bravery, knowledge of what he wants- damned if it’s right or wrong. (How freeing it is, to no longer have Heaven watching.) He removes the record from its sleeve and with his free hand, lifts the pin of the gramophone. Crowley stills where he’s knelt by Aziraphale’s feet, and they both listen to the crackle of dust being picked up by the pin. 

Aziraphale stands by the gramophone and closes his eyes. Moonlight Serenade begins to play and he takes a deep, grounding breath. 

“You remember that day,” he says, neither explaining nor opening his eyes to look down at Crowley. 

His response is quiet, and almost immediate. “Yes.” 

Aziraphale smiles. “I believe I owe you a dance.”

“You-”

“Don’t think of it as a ‘thank you’,” he continues. “I know you don’t like those. Perhaps just a dance?”

When he finally opens his eyes, it’s only after another deep breath- the nerves have made him forget how to breathe any other way. The shop is getting dark. The light is grey, there’s the quiet sound of rain hissing against the windows, and the song continues to play. And through the haze of dust and stacks of records he sees Crowley, kneeling at his feet, looking up at him with a look as if he doesn’t trust what he’s hearing. 

Aziraphale therefore adjusts the look on his own face, betraying his nervousness, and smiles. It comes more easily than he thought it would. 

He extends a hand. 

Crowley looks at the hand. Lips parting and mouthing something silently, uncertainly. Then he croaks, “The 40s was a wonderful time for music, if nothing else.”

And he feels Crowley’s hand slip into his. It doesn’t send a jolt of anxiety or excitement, it doesn’t set off fireworks or give him butterflies like he imagined it would. It feels perfectly natural. 

As Crowley stands up to his full height and looks at Aziraphale, he doesn’t let go of his hand. 

The music sounds distant. Each passing moment feels very real. Crowley has frozen. Aziraphale knows all too well how paralysing this uncertainty is- and so he takes Crowley’s other hand and guides it to his waist. He sees Crowley’s eyes flutter and widen, hears his throat click as he swallows, feels his fingers grip harder on Azirphale’s hand. 

“I think,” Aziraphale supplies once he’s shown Crowley’s where to put his hand, an abbreviated version of: I think that’s where your hand should go, although I’ve never done this before since I’ve only ever really wanted to do something like this with you, and I’m only just brave enough to do it now, and I hope I’m not misreading things and wrongly assuming you want this too. 

Crowley nods. He nods and nods and nods compulsively, swallows again and fumbles for words. Hand warm in Aziraphale’s, warm on his waist. “Yeah,” Crowley manages. “Yeah. I’d say this is- seems about right.”

And Aziraphale rests his hand carefully- so carefully- on Crowley’s shoulder. He leaves it there and neither of them move. They stare at each other in disbelief that this is happening. They stare in disbelief that it took this long. They stare at each other, waiting for the other to start dancing, to explain what comes next, anything. Crowley’s eyes wide and his brows pinched, lips parted.

“Aziraphale?” he asks weakly.

And then it feels easy, heartbreakingly easy. Easy to smile, easy to be the brave one for once, to let Crowley be vulnerable. Easy to let the thousands of years pour through him and between them, between joined hands. 

“Come here, my dear.”

Aziraphale steps closer. Fingers gripping tighter, frightened of what might happen if the other lets go. Would this moment disappear, as if it never happened at all? 

Aziraphale tilts his head towards the ground and looks up at Crowley through his lashes. A gesture that is shy and self-conscious and happy. And Crowley huffs- a laugh, perhaps, or a sigh, he isn’t sure. He feels his breathe blossom against his skin. 

He closes his eyes. He feels it all. He absorbs all the time spent together, all the time lost. The music brings them absent-mindedly swaying from side to side, and Aziraphale rests his cheek against Crowley’s. He’s warm. When he cracks his eyes open he’s welcomed by an auburn blur. The hand on his waist finds his back, and there’s the rush of a sigh beside Aziraphale’s ear. Then, a forehead against Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

The song ends, the gramophone crackling to a stop. They dance in each other’s arms for a little longer, in a shop no longer empty. 

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

My Sweet Hero

Thanks to @a-shout-to-the-void and @xathia-89 for beta reading this for me. I hope you all enjoy this slice of life Modern AU, school Sasuke. 

Warnings: Adorable School nerd, strong language, some appearances form U/T crew and a cameo from a Prickle Puff.

Masterlist

---

My Sweet Hero

This time of year was always one of those you either loved or hated. It was filled with so many words of love and candy you’d think the world around you had been sugar coated. Every year it was the same for him. He didn’t mind the loved-up couples or the fact their displays of love declaration were everywhere. He was actually a romantic at heart. No, what he felt was a pang of jealousy every year as he watched while others enjoyed the day and he remained in his classroom surrounded by textbooks and research.

There was a school open day planned in two days and some of the classes had decided to do Valentine’s day themed events. Couples signed up to take part in everything from scavenger hunts to locked room puzzles. There was even a race where you had obstacles and things too, “Test the strength of your love”. It all looked very nice and he felt warm looking at all the happy smiling faces of the people around him, even if he was envious at their ability to effortlessly interact with each other. What would I be like to be part of the crowd for once?

“Earth to Sasuke… Hello?” A loud and familiar voice came rushing up from behind him as he walked up the hill to the school gates.

“Mm? Oh, Yukimura good morning.”

“Morning. I’ve been calling you since you got off the bus you know?” Yukimura fell in line next to him adjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

“Sorry I was thinking about something.”

“Yeah? It wasn’t some of your weird mad scientist stuff was it?” Yukimura asked tilting his head a little to look at Sasuke a little closer.

“Theoretical Time Travel and Quantum Mechanics is not Mad Scientist stuff.” Sasuke’s familiar flat response resulted in a wry smile from his friend. They weren’t the most likely of friends but against the odds of basically every stereotype, they were best friends.

“That is exactly what a mad scientist would say.” Yuki chuckled a little as he teased before going bug eyes and jumping behind Sasuke. “Oh, crap.”

“What is it?” Sasuke looked around instinctively failing to see a threat.

“It’s that girl from class 4.” Yukimura looked comical as he poked his head out from behind Sasuke’s back to point out a girl in uniform walking with her friends a little ahead of them.

“You’re right it certainly looks like her.”

“No, you Dummy I mean… God, after school yesterday she cornered me as I was leaving. Girls are so damn scary.” Sasuke could tell Yukimura was turning red. It was something he did regularly. He was probably red to the tips of his ears right now.

“Cornered you?”

“Yeah for a love confession.”

“I see…” Sasuke returned to looking at the girl walking in front.

“Hey! What’s with that reaction? I’m not bad looking you know?” Clearly, Sasuke’s lack of response had struck a chord with Yukimura who had gone a little defensive.

“I never said you were. But I am however curious. I take the fact that you are attempting to hide means you turned her down?” Sasuke stopped walking causing Yukimura to lightly thump into his back.

“N-not exactly.” Yukimura became very interested in adjusting the strap on his bag when Sasuke turned to look at him.

“No?”

“I kinda freaked out and called her an idiot and she ran away in tears. I hate it when girls cry.” Yukimura raised his head. His face was indeed red and his eyes looked a little like he was totally bewildered. Perhaps this is why we are friends? I find it difficult to do standard social interactions with almost everyone and you struggle with anything that involves the opposite gender.

“If you hate it so much, I would suggest you pay closer attention to the many ways of making a girl happy that I’ve been trying to teach you for years Yuki.” The deep calming voice of a friendly Senior chimed into the private conversation. Shingen was usually surrounded by girls no matter what time of year it was.

“Gross I’m not saying any of that stuff.” Yukimura scrunched up his face at the idea of imitating any of Shingen’s dramatic performances.

“Agreed. I admit you have technique Shingen but why you have to be so vomit-inducing with it is beyond me.” The icy tones of another familiar Senior joined them.

“Morning Shingen… Kenshin.” Sasuke gave a polite nod as they continued to the gates as a group.

“Morning.”

---

On his way to the science block, Sasuke noticed a brightly coloured display outside the art department. “Wall of love”. Drawing closer to it out of curiosity he managed to read the notice pinned next to it. “Declare your love, admiration and appreciation here. Total anonymity. To shy to tell your crush you like them? Not a problem. Pin your messages here or post your notes in the box provided and we shall play Cupid and pass on your anonymous admirations.”

“Ridiculous isn’t it?” The gruff and tired voice of someone spoke up from next to him.

“Morning Ieyasu. It’s… different.”

“Waste of time.” Ieyasu poked one of the paper flowers on the display with his finger as he spoke. “But I suppose this is better than having someone come up to you randomly and disturbing your day with mindless love confessions. You using the particle simulator today?” One of the benefits of being part of this school was its affiliation to the University which meant students could access equipment usually unavailable. There was however usually a big waiting list, and today it was Sasuke’s turn to use the machine.

“Mm…Oh! yes.”

“Well try not to break it. See ya.” Ieyasu’s switch from casual conversation to business was fast. Without waiting for a reply, he stalked off towards the labs.

---

Lunchtime came around all to fast. The phrase time flies when you’re having fun came to mind and made him chuckle as he looked over his latest calculations to try to prove his theory on the ability to time travel. He was lucky if he was honest, the professors all supported him with his research as long as his other studies didn’t suffer. Thankfully his grades maintained their steady average in the 90% margin so he was free to do whatever he wished. One day I’ll crack this I just have to figure out a few more things. The bell sounded throughout the campus for break time and when he went to his locker to retrieve his packed lunch something small fluttered from on top of it. What is that?... Huh!?

After picking up the fallen item he noticed it was an envelope with heart washi tape on it. Was this one of those anonymous notes? Surely not. Much more likely its one of those guys pulling a prank again. The memory of a few years ago at the winter formal made him shudder. Being told to go outside as a girl was asking for him by name, to be bombarded by a barrage of snowballs and have them all laugh at him for being such a nerd. I’m not falling for the same prank twice. I might be a Nerd but I’m not an idiot.

Quickly stuffing the note into his pocket and grabbing his food bag, he made his way to the playing fields where he always met Yukimura for lunch. It was far enough from the main campus benches that they could always grab a seat. Also, Yukimura was a member of nearly every school sports team so it was handy for him to grab food near where he was busy working. He wasn’t there when he arrived so deciding to just set up his meal.

“Hey man sorry, I’m a bit late.” Yukimura jogged up, his hair still slightly damp from having a shower after last period.

“No problem. I wasn’t waiting long anyway.” Sasuke put his jacket down next to him and the “love note” fell out of his pocket landing at Yukimura’s feet.

“Hey what’s this?” Yukimura bent down to retrieve it flipping it over in his hand looking at it as if it might be some sort of weapon. You never knew with Sasuke. Last Halloween he remembered his friend dressing up as a ninja and throwing something that filled the whole house with smoke. His parents were not amused at all.

“I don’t know it was in my locker when I went to get my lunch. It’s probably a prank.” Sasuke shrugged as he took a bite from one of his sandwiches.

“Oh yeah? Well if it is, I’ll go and smack a few skulls together.” Yukimura handed back over the note and punched his fist into the palm of his other hand as he made his declaration.

“I’ll help.” Kenshin drifted into the conversation like a cold north wind. He was so silent at times when he moved, so graceful. Was that from the training he did as head of the fencing team or was that just natural?

“You two are always so quick to jump into a fight.” Shingen sighed as he lowered himself to the grass and reclined on it. The sight of his lunchbox being nearly completely only one filled with deserts had Yukimura pulling a face.

“Hey! I’m not as bad as he is.” Yukimura protested as he split up some of his own lunch and swapped it with some of the sweets from Shingen. Shingen didn’t bother to protest, they had been family friends and neighbour for long enough this was just a normal interaction for them now.

“Thank you both of you but I really don’t think its anything to worry that much over.” Sasuke said as he took a mouthful of chilled water from his bottle.

“And what if it isn’t a prank? Oh, I can see it now. A beauty sitting there all alone pining away clutching her chest. Her delicate little heart fluttering away as she stares out longingly from the window thinking of our own Sasuke.” Shingen was being dramatic. I guess it’s hard to turn off that great actor thing.

“Is there an intermission in this performance or are we to expect more?” Kenshin rolled his eyes as he plucked out a pickled plum from his rice and crunched it happily.

“I pity you Kenshin you have no sense of romance.”

---

By the time he looked out of the window from the science block, he could clearly see people milling around making their way home. He pulled the cuff of his shirt back and looked at his watch. Guess I got so into this I forgot about the time. I should pack up and go home.

After setting the lab back to its original state and putting his coat on the peg he trailed the familiar path back to the main gate which was when someone smacked right into him from one of the side rooms of the art department as he passed by.

“Ah!”

“Oh my god! I am so sorry. I didn’t see you and… oh no!” The soft chime-like voice of a girl addressed him as her bag tumbled from her grip sending its contents scattering all over the ground.

“It’s alright. Are you ok? Here let me help you.” Sasuke didn’t even pause before he had made his offer of assistance and was gathering all the fallen items for her.

“Y-yes…. err… thank you. God, I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz.” She was clearly flustered. “I think that’s it all.” She placed the last of her notebooks back into her bag and gave him an embarrassed smile. Do I know her?

“Oh, wait is this yours too?” Sasuke bent to retrieve something that had rolled a little further away. His hand stopped slightly as he realised what he was holding. No way. It couldn’t be, could it? It's exactly like the tape on that note I got. But its common enough that girls these days have washi tape it could be unrelated.

“Ah! Oh yeah… thanks.” She gratefully took the tape and bowed to him. “I’m really so, so sorry.”

“It’s alright there was no harm done. As long as you are ok that is all that matters.” Her cute reaction and sincerity actually made him feel a little flustered.

“You really… you’re very sweet Sasuke. Oh! I gotta run sorry I’m gonna miss my bus! Thanks again, bye!” She snapped up with the brightest smile beaming on her face and turned on her heel and started to run. Did I tell her my name?

---

Curiosity is the foundation of his scientific exploration. Well, that and his desire to travel in time and see history with his own two eyes. He put his hand in his pocket and his fingers grazed over the edges of something, pulling it free he realised it was that note again. I wonder. Breaking the seal of the washi tape he saw the small delicate writing on the pale green paper.

“Sasuke Sarutobi. I really like you. I realise this is a long shot but even with the odds stacked against me, I cannot pass up the chance to tell you even if it is only like this. Your secret admirer.”

He stared at the paper in mild shock. Re-reading the words over and over as if he was missing something. If this is a girl. Could it be her? Don’t be ridiculous Sasuke she’s a popular girl why on earth would she notice a nerd like you? Still. Total anonymity huh?

---

It took a bit of planning but once the idea was there it was difficult to ignore it. I’ll put my own note in that box and wait for the reply then I should be able to see who it is. Sasuke thumbed the edge of his olive-green envelope as he walked the familiar route past the art department to the science block. He dropped it in the box in such a way that no one noticed, a small rush of adrenaline kicked in and now he just had to wait.

A group of kids emptied the box and began shuffling the notes like a deck of cards before dividing them up so they could be delivered. Clearly, this was a popular thing. A short time later and a familiar figure crept along looking around them shyly. She took out a note that even from this distance he could see was just like the one he first received. Before he knew it, his body was moving before his mind had even caught up to the motion and he was at her side.

“Hello MC.”

“Oh! Err… Hello Sasuke.” Her shoulders jumped as he spoke to her.

“Is that for me?”

“Huh?!” Her eyes were wide and swimming. Ok, Sasuke you could possibly have been a little less direct about that.

“Well, I would surmise from the fact you are using the same stationery as before that there is a high possibility that you are the one that wrote this note. Of course, if I am wrong and you aren’t then I am very sorry for making you jump.” Sasuke showed her the love confession he had in his pocket. She visibly froze.

“… You aren’t wrong.”

“Pardon me?” Her faint voice confirmed his thoughts and he had a moment of being unable to process thought.

“What’s with that look?” She smiled at him giggling at his reaction.

“Sorry, It’s just. I had no idea that we were acquainted enough for you to know my name. We are not only in different classes we are also in different years. And you are clearly on the more popular side of the fence.”

“I might not be as popular as you imagine.” She shuffled her feet adorably as she spoke

“And anyway, Of course, I remember the name of the guy that saved me after I transferred.”

“Saved you? Me?” Sasuke tried to go back over his memories in search of such a thing. She could have been remembering someone else.

“Yes. You.” She resigned herself to continue her explanation her smile faltering a little as she realised he had forgotten all about her. “I was completely lost looking for my class and you were in a rush but you dropped what you were doing and helped guide me to my location. I- I wanted to thank you more but… I… I’m sorry I was too nervous to approach you after that.”

“That girl that day by the gates, was you? I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you, I mean you were so…” Sasuke remembered a small new student struggling to look at a campus map in a total fluster. She… is that really her?

“Ugly?”

“I was going to say small and frightened looking. Clearly, you have settled in now and you don’t appear to be so small in fact you’ve grown up.” Sasuke cringed even he was aware of how awkward he was being.

“You talk a little like an old man.” Her laughter was a blessing to him and if it came from his own embarrassment, he would gladly embarrass himself as many times as she liked.

“My Apologises I am not exactly very familiar with socialising.”

“I see. Well, you were right the note was from me. I suppose now you know you are going to turn me, down right? I mean its how these things work.” Her shoulders slumped.

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Girl confesses, the guy isn’t interested so he turns her down…”

“What if I am interested?”

“Huh?” She looked at him as if he was some sort of totally new scientific discovery. Even he had to admit his fast response was a little shocking and it was him who said it.

“That is to say. I would like to test a theory if you’d let me?”

“You do know all theories work until put in practice then they have a failure rate.”

“Yes, depending on the experiment and its fundamentals, contributing factors that are likely to affect negative results it can be anywhere from…” Her decent back into laugher made him stop. “Oh, I’m sorry. I have been told I tend to ramble.”

“No, no sorry, I thought it was funny because it was kinda cute.” She waved her hands at him in reassurance.

“Cute?”

“Oh! Guys don’t like being called that… erm…” She was turning pink in her new fluster. She’s actually rather cute herself.

“No, If you are the one calling me that then I don’t mind.” Sasuke said softly as he drew closer to her side. “Mc?”

“Yes?”

“The open day is tomorrow and I understand it would be asking a bit too much if you wished to take part in the events but, would you consider allowing me the honour of escorting you?”

“…” She stood there, mouth hanging open totally mute.

“Did I say that wrong?” Sasuke cast his eyes down as he tried to think of a correction.

“N-no. You said it perfectly I’m sorry I thought I was being pranked.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I would love to go with you tomorrow.” Her answer washed over him like a wave of relief. I guess that means I have a date then?

“Great. I’ll see you at the main gates tomorrow then.”

---

“Hey look it’s Nerd-Suke. What are you hanging around here for don’t tell me you were waiting for someone?” A familiar school bully approached him as he stood at their meeting place. Oh great, not today, come on.

“As it happens…”

“Ha! What kind of loser would agree to…?” He rounded on Sasuke clearly enjoying himself and his easy target. This is not going to end well. Sasuke tried to remember some things Kenshin had showed him after telling him if he wanted to be safe, he would have to learn some sort of self-defence.

“Excuse me? Who are you calling a loser?” A female voice pushed past the large guy and joined Sasuke at his side.

“Huh? No way who are you?”

“My name is none of your business and if you are done with my date, I would like to have him back now.” MC took a firm grip on Sasuke’s sleeve. She was trembling a little but she was holding her ground. Mc…

“Date? Nah no way. A cutie like you should see sense and ignore him and go with me.” The bully grabbed her arm and looked her over from head to toe the smile on his face turning into one that sent a rolling rage through Sasuke’s body. “What you say- AH!”

“I believe the lady said I was her date.” Sasuke had not only removed the hand from the girl he had it twisted up the bullies back so hard that the others guys legs had buckled in order to prevent his arm being broken. “Sorry, Mc.”

“Sasuke…”

“You won’t get away with this!” The bully was released and threw out the customary threat expected as he ran from the scene. Even if I haven’t I won’t let you touch her.

“Shall we go?” Sasuke held out his hand and she gladly accepted it. Her eyes sparkling at him.

“You really are my hero.”

“I always wanted to be told that.”

---

[sufismandsufis]

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

“Bismillah, ar-Rahman, ar-Rahim”

meaning

In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful.

The Arabic phrase shown above is pronounced as Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim, and is a beautifully poetic phrase which offers both deep insight and brilliant inspiration. It has often been said that the phrase Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim contains the true essence of the entire Qur'an, as well as the true essence of all religions.

Muslims often say this phrase when embarking on any significant endeavor, and the phrase is considered by some to be a major pillar of Islam. This expression is so magnificent and so concise that all but one chapter of the Qur'an begins with the words Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim.

The common translation:

"In the name of God, most Gracious, most Compassionate".

fails to capture either the true depth of meaning or the inspirational message of this beautiful phrase. So, let's look deeper into the meaning of these wonderful words.

Origin and Spelling:

Every chapter of the Qur'an (except the ninth chapter) begins with the Arabic phrase:

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

However, there are many differing views on how this phrase should be transliterated using the English alphabet, as well as differing views on whether or not to include some of the Arabic rules of grammar. Consequently, one may encounter a variety of different transliterations of this glorious phrase, including:

bismillahi al r-rahmani al r-rahim

bismillahi al rahman al rahim

bismillah al rahman al rahim

bismi Allah al rahman al rahim

bismillahi-r rahmani-r rahim

bismillaah ir rahmaan ir raheem

bismillah ir rahman ir rahim

However, regardless of how one may choose write the English transliteration of the original Arabic, it is neither the writing of the words nor their pronunciation which is crucial, but rather we shall each be rewarded according to what is in our heart and how we act in the world.

Those who say these words with thoughts of self-aggrandizement, or selfish gains, or self-centered vain profit in any manner, will receive their just reward... suffering, pain and confusion. Likewise, those who truly dedicate every step of their life to the glory and service of the Ever-present One shall also receive their just reward... peace, love and beauty.

This phrase is truly an ideal to be expressed from the heart, an ideal to be expressed with the utmost sincerity, an ideal which leads us toward sacred purpose, the purpose for which we have been given life.

Let's look at the deeper meaning of each word of this glorious phrase:

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

bismillah

The common translation for bismillah is "In the name of Allah", which is actually an idiom, an expression that really doesn't make much sense on a literal word-by-word basis.

The phrase In the name of is an idiom having the connotation of with the blessings of, under the governance of, as an instrument of, in devotion to, in adoration of, on behalf of, with the support of, or for the glory of. In each of these cases, the idiom In the name of indicates that one is submitting to, honoring or glorifying that which is referred to.

Now, let's take a deeper look into the Arabic roots of this magnificent word bismillah.

The term bismillah, is a combination of three words:

1. The particle bi which can mean by, for, with the aid of, through or by means of and points toward that which happens next.

2. The next word in this phrase is ism, based on the root variously reported to be s-m-w or a-s-m, which indicates the means by which something is distinguished, whether by use of an identifying mark, or by being raised up high so that it may be distinguished, and would include a name, reputation, light or vibration, and points toward the very essence of something, the inherent qualities and signs of the existence of something, the underlying reality of something.

3. The ending of the term is the word Allah, which is the Arabic name of the One. The Semitic roots of the word Allah extend back several thousand years to the Canaanite Elat, Hebrew El and Elohim, and Aramaic Alaha. These roots point toward unity, oneness, the eternal power which includes all of existence and of non-existence. In modern English this would generally be translated as God (which is old English, likely based on the Sanskrit word hu, meaning that which is worshipped, honored or adored).

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

Using these basic roots, the term bismillah might be translated as:

- By means of the very essence of God

- For the glory of our Creator

- With the light of the One

- With the guidance of The Divine

- As an instrument of the One

- In harmony with Divine Presence

The central idea here is that whatever we do, every step that we take, every breath that we breathe, is done for, because of, and through the essence of, the One who has created us.

It is not us that does the work, it is not us that makes opportunities appear, it is not us that produces fruits from every action. We alone are powerless. The Creator has given us life and has given us the ability to move and think and feel, yet we are totally dependent upon the Creator for the very essence of life itself.

Thus, this beautiful word bismillah is a magnificent reminder of our relationship to our Creator and our relationship to all of creation.

In one simple word bismillah expresses our wonder, awe and thankfulness while it also expresses our innermost prayer that we may have the blessing of another breath, another moment of life, and that we may walk on a path of truth and understanding.

To say bismillah is to humbly offer one's self as a vehicle for the glory and majesty of The One.

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

ir rahman ir rahim

These two terms rahman and rahim refer to attributes of the One. While they are often translated simply as Merciful and Compassionate, the roots of the words point to a deeper meaning.

Both rahman and rahim are derived from the Semitic root r-h-m which indicates something of the utmost tenderness which provides protection and nourishment, and that from which all of creation is brought into being. And indeed, the root rhm has meanings of womb, kinship, relationship, loving-kindness, mercy, compassion, and nourishing-tenderness.

Thus, both rahman and rahim point toward that which emerges from the source of all creation, while also conveying a sense of tenderness, loving-kindness, protection and nourishment.

The term rahman is a very emphatic statement, and then the sentiment is echoed by being immediately followed by the use of another form of the same root-word. Such repetition is a joyful celebration of this Divine attribute, much the same as saying "The One who is the Supreme Loving-Kindness, oh such Loving-Kindness".

These two words, rahman and rahim, also express slightly different variations of meaning, as described in the following paragraphs.

rahman:

The term rahman describes that aspect of the source of all creation which is endlessly radiating, endlessly nourishing, regardless of who or what is receiving the endless flow of blessings.

Rahmān conveys the idea of fullness and extensiveness, indicating the great quality of love and mercy which engulfs all of creation without regard to any effort or request on our part.

According to Ibn Qayyum (1350 AD), rahmān describes the quality of abounding Grace which is inherent in and inseparable from the Almighty.

rahim:

On the other hand, the term rahim describes that aspect of the source which is issued forth only in response to the actions and behavior of the recipient. It is in this manner that God takes ten steps toward us when we take even a single step toward God.

Rahīm conveys the idea of constant renewal and giving liberal reward in response to the quality of our deeds and thoughts.

According to Ibn Qayyum (1350 AD), rahīm expresses the continuous manifestation of the Grace in our lives and its effect upon us as a result of our own activities.

ir rahman ir rahim:

Rahman points toward the Beneficent One whose endless outpouring of love and mercy are continually showered upon all of creation, while Rahim points toward the Merciful One whose love and mercy are manifested in that which is received as the consequence of one's deeds.

So, the phrase ir rahman ir rahim is a recognition and honoring of the very source of all existence, the source of all blessings, the source of all compassion, the source of all mercy who gives endlessly to us and who also responds according to our moral integrity, our harmony with all of creation and our love of Allah.

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

Poetic Renderings:

There is no way for any one translation to capture the many facets of this beautiful phrase Bismillah ir-Rahman ir-Rahim. Here are some poetic renderings that attempt to capture some aspects of the meaning without being literal translations:

With every breath that we breathe, may we be act on behalf of the Divine Presence, the Source of all that we receive.

With every step that we take, may we be instruments of the One Light which guides us, the Source and Nourisher of all of creation.

Every moment of this life is filled with your eternal radiance my Beloved, You are the Beneficent One who endlessly showers all of creation with nourishment and blessings, and the One who generously rewards those who live in harmony with Your Divine Will.

Source: https://wahiduddin.net/words/bismillah.htm

[princegastronome]

The Pseudoscience of Summerhill Pyramid Winery

A few days ago, I wrote and posted a review of Summerhill Pyramid Winery in Southern Kelowna.  They posted a rebuttal, so I am compiling the exchange here.

First, to talking points of the actual review of Summerhill Pyramid and their restaurant, Sunset Bistro.

The man behind Summerhill, Stephen Cipe—considering himself a spiritual visionary at "Canada's most visited winery”—attributes the winery’s success to the unique process of utilizing the sacred geometry of their signature pyramid, designed as a perfect scaled replica of the larger one in Giza, to instill their wine with the same positive essense naturally occurring in all life forms.  Lacking any ferrous components and placed to face True North, this platonic solid rests on a region devoid of interference energy and is placed on dirt compacted to 100%.  This results in the pyramid acting as an interface between positive and negative space-time, a bridge between matter and anti-matter, and becoming the gate through which two realities meet and interact.  This is related to Einstein’s theory of relativity, specifically his predictions on the existence tachyons (faster-than-light particles).  Time and space are distorted within the pyramid and would most likely explain how the builders of the great pyramids in Egypt were able to employ negative space-time to levitate huge stones and build the pyramids in the first place.  And somehow this also make wine taste better.

This is an example of data mining pseudoscientific sources and combining them with numerology and astrology along with long debunked theories that serious science left behind a very long time ago in hopes of selling overpriced alcoholic beverages already fighting dubious claims about their benefits.  Here’s the uncomplicated truth about humans, we evolved as pattern recognition machines, finding answers in chaos.  Our desperation to explain everything when we knew almost nothing gave rise to the mythologies of antiquity.  Summerhill attempts to weave confirmation bias, ignorance, and good old-fashioned quackery into a soup of utter nonsense to justify their business.  

You don’t even have to search long to find verified evidence debunking every single point made on Summerhill’s website.  The data they “cite” isn’t even accurate—they list dimensions of the Giza pyramid to justify numerology, but then list incorrect numbers.  There’s no doubt the pyramids at Egypt, and other locations are amazing historical monuments.  And the designers were intelligent in constructing them.  But they didn’t employ magic—they used their brains to solve problems.  They are tombs to narcissistic despots, and anything more than that is just a plot point in Stargate.

Summerhill is bonkers, and not the adorable crazy like Perry in The Fisher King.  I’m talking homeopathy, dowsing, phrenology, Pythagoras bonkers.

I’m serious; Pythagoras was crazy, flat out nuts.  He was afraid of beans, hated the square root of two, and had a guy killed over a disagreement about a triangle.  So best avoid that lest you start believing in sacred geometries, ley-lines, or astrology, basically everything in the Rifts role-playing game.

As for Sunset Bistro...

I admire restaurants that pull ingredients from their neighborhoods, and Sunset Bistro claims theirs are sourced from their own biodynamic gardens and wildlife preserves, another concept worthy of…wait, what?  

What was that?  

“Biodynamic”?  

I must admit not hearing that one before.  I had better do some—DARN IT!  It’s more pseudoscience! Using planetary locations and lunar cycles to determine sowing cycles?  It quite literally uses magic.  

I’m trying my best to tolerate organic farming despite the overwhelming evidence pointing to its dangerous side-effects including nutrient leaching, soil conservation, and the massive increase in land use required to produce food over its safe GMO alternatives, substitutions credited for saving hundreds of millions of lives in regions cursed with overpopulation and untillable land.  But no, you’re right, don’t trust Norman Borlaug, the father of the Green Revolution; instead, embrace geomancy.  I can accomplish the same effect with a traditional organic farm and a deck of Magic: The Gathering cards.  

Seriously, folks, you have to read up on the field preparations for this lunacy...hmm…lunacy…madness brought on by the moon.  And before you start with the defense of biodynamics, remember they were invented by someone claiming to be a clairvoyant that taught that a disease may be part of a patient's "karma" and that interfering with said illness would be unwise because treating only the physical body would require the patient to compensate in a future life.    

And you must grind quartz crystal that’s buried in a cow horn through the summer to aid in plant growth.  

If I ever walk into the restaurant again, I’ll bellow at the top of my lungs, “When single shines the triple sun.  What was sundered and undone shall be whole.  The two made one by Gelfling hand or else by none!” before leaving.  If you got the Rifts joke, that one should be easy.  

They made good food.  I just wished they had sacrificed a goat to Demeter using the old ways in order to secure a higher quality crop.  Probably would have made the difference.

This morning, Summerhill’s founder replied.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts. Science is good and I applaud you for caring about truth. Narrative is also good. Science can tell us “how”, but can never answer the question “why”. There will always be a central mystery in life that we answer with story. Sacred geometry is a good story. It is a story about beauty, harmony and perfection in nature. We do not sermonize, and we never claim that our pyramid ‘makes wine taste better,’ only that it acts as a clarifier. There is a wonderful feeling in the pyramid chamber, which we invite all of our guests to experience. We honour our wine by cellaring it there. Summerhill has been awarded the trophy for Best Sparkling Wine at the IWSC in London, England, and another for Canadian Producer of the Year. We have also just been awarded the highest scoring wine at France’s 2017 Chardonnay du Monde competition with 750 entries from 38 countries. It is no accident that our wines are so often at the top of the podium. Is it the organic viticulture and winemaking? The time in the pyramid? Our team’s experience and expertise? In the end, the reason is the love that we put into everything that we do. I am sorry to read that you believe our love and care for the earth and our nurturing of the human spirit, imagination, and feeling of connectedness is ‘spiritually bankrupt’, as you term it. I invite you and welcome you with open arms to be with me at our model of man and nature. Come and walk around our biodynamic vineyard to experience the biodiversity and feel the living soil. Come in the pyramid with me and have a real experience. The precision chamber is a uniquely conducive place for meditation. We’ll drink good wine together and tell good stories. With love and gratitude, Stephen Cipes Founder/Proprietor, Summerhill Pyramid

And I responded.

Science is not just “good”, it’s mandatory to understanding the world. It’s the first step in personal enlightenment, and we are obligated not to ignore it.  It’s how we protect ourselves from false hope and charlatans.  The flaw in your reasoning is directly connected to your statement that “Science can tell us “how,” but can never answer the question “why”.”

Your statement is the impasse pseudoscientific believers subscribe to denounce how actual science works.  Yes, science can supply the “how” within a range of error to be acceptable by peer-reviewed sources.  That’s how it works.  It can also supply us with reliably predictable estimations to “when,” “who,” “where,” and positively “why,” and a “why” to many of the important questions.  Some remain, and always will.  The issue I have is that you’re supplying answers you could not possibly possess, and then manipulate scientific terms you don’t fully understand to make your page sound more scientific when it is nothing of the sort.  This is confirmation bias.  It is an insult to the scientific process to use those terms in your selling points.  

Yes, there are questions science cannot yet answer.  That’s how science works…people can turn to spirituality if they find gaps.  But ignorant people claim more gaps than there really are, and then possess the hubris to fill those gaps with answers lacking any evidence, or better, ones flying in the face of answers already discovered.  If it’s belief, then it remains belief, but I will not subscribe to bottling that belief and selling it as snake oil.  

When you attempt to employ scientific terminology and claim scientific methods, you’re insulting the actual scientific community.  Sacred solids, numerology, and astrology have no place in science.  And as for your biodynamic gardens, I’ve enough issues with the ignorance around organic farming, but then to professes a system developed by a self-proclaimed clairvoyant that taught that a disease might be part of a patient's "karma" and that interfering with said illness would be unwise because treating only the physical body would require the patient to compensate in a future life.  Grinding quartz in a cow horn and burying it to improve a harvest?  Utilizing lunar cycles?  

 If you wish to employ these practices, you are always free to do so, but the people—paying customers—deserve to know that nothing you boast is backed by scientific scrutiny.  There is no evidence that it works (and no, trophies don’t count).  It flies in the face of commons sense, and is considered pseudoscience by the scientific consensus.  The information is available out there, and I invite people to do their own research.

 I’ll keep people updated

(Pssst. By the way, I don’t think they noticed a pyramid is not a platonic solid)

[pamphletstoinspire]

April, the month dedicated to the Holy Eucharist

TRUE STORIES OF EUCHARISTIC MIRACLES (See Link Below)

Link: http://www.olrl.org/sacramen/ihsmrcls.shtml

We who hold faithful to what the Roman Catholic Church teaches, believe that Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, is truly present in the Most Holy Eucharist. We believe it on the words of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who promised to give us His flesh to eat and blood to drink, at the lakeside of Galilee (John 6, 48-60), and who fulfilled that promise at the Last Supper (Matt. 26: 26-28; Luke 22: 19-20; Mark 14: 22-24; 1 Cor. 11: 23-25). We have also the divine, infallible testimony of the Catholic Church which He established. The Holy Synod (the Council of Trent) decreed in Canon 1 on the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist: "If anyone denies that in the sacrament of the most Holy Eucharist are contained truly, really and substantially the body and blood together with the soul and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, and consequently the whole Christ, but says that He is in it only as in a sign, or figure or force, let him be anathema."

Over the centuries, Our Dear Lord has seen fit to work over 100 miracles confirming His real presence in the Most Blessed Sacrament. What is the purpose of these miracles? To prove what He said is true as the scripture says: "The Lord confirmed the word with signs that followed." (Mark 16:16) He wants us to believe His teaching and threatens us with damnation if we do not. "He that believeth not shall be condemned." (Mark 16:16) God is willing to give extraordinary means to help our faith because He desires our salvation. Jesus goes so far as to say: "Though you will not believe Me, believe the works." (John 10:38) "They give testimony of Me."

Related below are four wonderful Eucharistic miracles confirming Our Lord's real presence in the Most Blessed Sacrament.

1. For a long time the parish priest of Moncada in Spain had celebrated Mass without any scruples of conscience, when suddenly he became the prey of a violent doubt as to whether he had been rightly ordained. In his distress, to allay his doubts he determined to put his case before his bishop. He immediately set out on foot and journeyed to Valencia, the seat of the diocese. In this place it pleased Almighty God to deliver him from his trouble, and to give him light and peace by means of a very remarkable miracle.

The priest had been appointed to say Christmas Mass. He had reached the awful moment of Consecration, and with trembling hands took the host and pronounced the words of transubstantiation with a quivering voice. As he raised the Sacred Host aloft, and knelt again in trembling adoration, the cry of a little five-year-old child rang out from the congregation: "O Mama, what a lovely child! See there, Mama! He is up on the altar." A little lad nearby, apparently forgetful of everything else, stood upon the chair and clapped his hands with joy. The boy's mother was embarrassed and bade him hush, for no one else had seen the vision of beauty; only the innocent child saw it when the Sacred Host was raised on high. Again and again he entreated his mother to look. "Such a beautiful child, Mama," he whispered, "just like the little baby over there in the crib."

The mother and child awaited to hear a second Mass which was said by the same priest at dawn, and again at the Elevation the little boy exclaimed, "Oh, there he is again, Mama, don't you see? The priest is holding him up in his hands and now he has laid him on the altar!" The mother bade the child be silent; she could not see anything, the great grace being granted only to her little son.

The priest completed the Christmas offering by saying the third Mass. At the Elevation the boy was all excitement, and the same scene was enacted as before. The happy mother repeated this strange occurrence to others, and through them it reached the ears of the priest himself who, it may be believed, was greatly comforted thereby. However, his scruples were not entirely removed. He doubted whether the child might not have been deceived, and therefore he requested that the little boy be cross-examined by him. But the answers of the child were so accurate that he found no reason to doubt the reality of the manifestation. Full of joy and filled with gratitude towards God, he invited the little boy and his mother to be present as often as possible at his Mass, and on each occasion the miracle was renewed. As doubts still lingered in his mind, he resolved to receive a final convincing proof. Taking three particles with him to the altar, he placed two upon the corporal and consecrated them, leaving the third one unconsecrated but within reach. After Holy Mass was ended he called the little boy to the altar, and asked him if he saw the divine Infant in either of the particles, and, if so, in which. "Oh yes, Father," said the boy, "there He is! See, He is stretching out His hands." The little fellow seemed quite ravished with delight. On pointing to the other host the priest asked: "And what about it? Is the Divine Infant also in that other host?" The child answered, "No." "But are you sure?" queried the priest. "Oh yes, Father, there is nothing there." At the last manifestation the peace of the good priest returned to him. Unrest and scruple vanished from his mind forever, and for the remainder of his life he served God with greater love and piety.

PRAYER: "O Sacrament most holy! O Sacrament divine! All praise and all thanksgiving be every moment Thine.

2. In Valpariso, Chile, at the beginning of the 20th century, Fr. Mateo Crawley-Boevey SS, CC., well known as the great Apostle of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, was a young priest. Fr. Mateo told this story wherever he preached and he found that where people were prepared to earn "three golden coins" with love, many graces were obtained and many conversions followed.

He relates that one day an 8 year old girl told him that Jesus spoke to her every time she received Holy Communion. Father was somewhat skeptical and requested her to ask Jesus to give him proof. The proof Father requested was the sudden conversion of a certain man who was a big sinner, a fallen away Catholic, and enemy of the Church ... and also that this man should come to him for Confession.

About a week later when Fr. Mateo was hearing confessions, the young girl told him that this sinner was coming up to the church. As the priest was leaving the confessional, the fallen away Catholic came into the church and walked over to Fr. Mateo and asked him to help him with his confession. He said that it was the first one since he was baptized. He did not know what came over him that morning but he suddenly understood the necessity of going to confession. Father realized that he had received the proof he requested.

The young girl told the priest that Our Lord revealed to her that He would give the graces to repent and mend his ways to this fallen away Catholic, and also to many other souls. He said, "Always ask Me for souls and I will give them to you, and tell Father Mateo to ask Me for souls. I will give them to him, too, but first you must become My missionary."

She thought she was too young to be a missionary. Our Lord assured her that He would make her His missionary and that she would have to pay a certain price for souls. "I want you," said Jesus, "to earn three golden coins a day." Our Lord then explained what He meant by golden coins.  

1) The first golden coin was her prayers to Him for souls.

2) The second golden coin was her little sacrifices, especially acts of obedience.

3) The third golden coin was a promise: "never to miss Mass or Holy Communion through your own fault and to visit Me often in the Blessed Sacrament."

3. On the 17th of December, 1899, the fast mail on the way from Bordeaux to Paris met with a collision. In the mail car was Gabriel Gargam, a 30-year-old post office express clerk. At the time of the wreck the train was going at the speed of fifty miles an hour. By the crash Gargam was thrown fifty-two feet. He was terribly bruised and broken and paralyzed from the waist down. He was barely alive when lifted onto a stretcher. Taken to a hospital, his existence for some time was a living death. After eight months he had wasted away to a mere skeleton, weighing but seventy-eight pounds, although normally a big man. His feet became gangrenous. He could take no solid food and was obliged to take nourishment by a tube. Only once in twenty-four hours could he be fed even that way.

Gargam's condition was pitiable in the extreme. He could not help himself even in the most trifling needs. Two trained nurses were needed day and night to assist him. Previous to the accident, Gargam had not been to church for fifteen years. His aunt, who was a nun of the Order of the Sacred Heart, begged him to go to Lourdes. He refused. She continued her appeals to him to place himself in the hands of Our Lady of Lourdes. He was deaf to all her prayers. After continuous pleading of his mother he consented to go to Lourdes. It was now two years since the accident, and not for a moment had he left his bed all that time. He was carried on a stretcher to the train. The exertion caused him to faint, and for a full hour he was unconscious. They were on the point of abandoning the pilgrimage, as it looked as if he would die on the way, but the mother insisted, and the journey was made.

Arrived at Lourdes, he was carried to the miraculous pool and tenderly placed in its waters -- no effect. Rather a bad effect resulted, for the exertion threw him into a swoon and he lay apparently dead. On the way back they saw the procession of the Blessed Sacrament approaching. They stood aside to let it pass, having placed a cloth over the face of the man whom they supposed to be dead.

As the priest passed carrying the Sacred Host, he pronounced Benediction over the sorrowful group around the covered body. Soon there was a movement from under the covering. To the amazement of the bystanders, the body raised itself to a sitting posture. While the family were looking dumbfounded and the spectators gazed in amazement, Gargam said in a full, strong voice that he wanted to get up. He got up and stood erect, walked a few paces and said that he was cured. The multitude looked in wonder, and then fell on their knees and thanked God for this new sign of His power at the shrine of His Blessed Mother. For two years hardly any food had passed his lips but now he sat down to the table and ate a hearty meal.

On August 20th, 1901, sixty prominent doctors examined Gargam. Without stating the nature of the cure, they pronounced him entirely cured. Gargam, out of gratitude to God in the Holy Eucharist and His Blessed Mother, consecrated himself to the service of the invalids at Lourdes. Fifteen years after his miraculous cure he was still engaged in his strenuous and devoted work. He was for years a living, visible testimony of the supernatural.

PRAYER: May the Heart of Jesus in the Most Blessed Sacrament be praised, adored and loved with grateful affection, at every moment, in all the tabernacles of the world, even to the end of time.

4. Some years ago, a young man was unhappily led astray into the paths of Jewish infidelity. While still in the flower of youth, his heart was filled with dreams of glory to be attained as a distinguished musician. One evening he was asked to play the organ in one of the principal churches in Paris; there in that church God awaited him, and prepared for him, not a triumph of his self-love, but a humiliation a thousand times more glorious. Already the roof of the sacred edifice re-echoed the sound of the solemn chants, and the melodious tones of the organ had filled all hearts with recollection and prayer; every head was bowed and the God of the Eucharist had blessed His children prostrate in lowly adoration. The unbelieving musician, alone, dared to raise his haughty brow before that God despised by his forefathers, but in vain. A mysterious and invisible hand bowed his head and humbled him to the ground. A miracle of grace was effected; the young man was conquered; he knelt down a Jew; he rose up a Catholic. His heart wounded by the Real Presence in the Sacred Host, he left the church; soon the waters of Baptism were poured upon him, and exchanging his fashionable attire for the coarse serge of a monk, he bade an eternal farewell to the pleasures of the world. A living example of the power of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, he went from city to city, and from village to village, proclaiming the love of God, repeating again and again: "The days of grief are departed. I have found peace of heart since I have tasted the delights of the tabernacle of the Lord." If you would know the name of this privileged soul, ask it at the cloister of Mount Carmel, and they will tell you it was Father Augustine of the Most Blessed Sacrament. If one single visit to the God of the Eucharist transformed an obstinate Jew into a good Catholic, what may we not hope to obtain by devout visits to the Blessed Sacrament?

PRAYER: O my Jesus, I adore Thee in this Holy Sacrament, as my Lord and my God, as my Redeemer and Savior.

5. About the year 1599, in the city of Posen, a very remarkable incident took place in connection with the Blessed Sacrament. A servant girl, who was bribed by some unbelievers, stole from the chapel of the Dominicans three small Hosts, wrapped them in a linen cloth, and carried them to the house of the wretches who had hired her for the deed. The unbelievers treated the Sacred Hosts in a most sacrilegious and shameful manner. They threw them on a table and cut the Sacred Particles. Blood spurted out on the first one of the sacrilegious creatures and left a stain that could not be removed. The report of this strange occurrence soon spread abroad and crowds ran to see for themselves. A blind woman insisted on being led to the scene of this marvelous incident. Divinely inspired, she cried out: "If Thou art the true God, He whom our ancestors nailed to the Cross, restore to me my sight!" She was immediately cured, and went away proclaiming the miracle. The guilty profaners, fearing the just punishment of their heinous crime, wished to dispose of the desecrated Hosts, and after several fruitless efforts buried them to a great depth in a swamp.

One day on the octave of the Blessed Virgin, two herdsmen, father and son, brought their cattle to pasture near this place. The father went to a church not far off to hear Mass, while the son guarded the herd. To his surprise the boy saw the cattle approach the swamp and kneel down with their heads bent low. The shepherd raised his eyes and saw in the air over the swamp three shining objects. In amazement he perceived that they were three Hosts, and he instantly prostrated himself and profoundly adored the God who revealed Himself by so great a prodigy.

In the meantime, the father returned from Mass. As soon as the boy saw him he ran to meet him. "Father," he shouted, "our oxen are adoring the Blessed Sacrament!" "Nonsense!" replied the parent, shrugging his shoulders, "what folly is this!" "Come and see for yourself," protested the boy, "that I am telling the truth." While proceeding on his way the old man suddenly paused, with feet fastened to the ground and with eyes entranced as he beheld the astonishing scene. There at the farthest end of the marsh three little lights hung in the air, while the dumb beasts knelt with heads bowed to the earth. The old herdsman, all doubts gone, knelt in adoration before the three consecrated Hosts profaned by the unbelievers.

After a moment's prayer, the old man ran to the city and proclaimed the wonder to all whom he met. The people, however, looked upon him as a fool, and even cast him into prison. And now a new wonder occurred -- the prison door opened and freed the prisoner. This startled the authorities and they began to investigate. The Bishop and the clergy were informed and went in procession to the place indicated by the herdsman. Then the Sacred Hosts, which had remained suspended in the air, slowly descended and rested in the hands of a saintly priest. They were taken back to the city amidst great pomp and splendor. Then the authorities began to debate what disposition to make of the miraculous Hosts. While they were arguing, the Hosts rose from their hands, ascended into the air and returned to the marsh. The wish of Our Lord was evident. So they erected an improvised sanctuary on the spot, and this in turn was soon followed by a magnificent basilica founded by Ladislaus Jagellon, King of Poland. Needless to say, thousands of pilgrims have visited the famous shrine to adore the miraculous Hosts.

PRAYER: O sweetest Heart of Jesus, I implore that I may love Thee more and more. Jesus meek and humble of Heart, make my heart like unto Thine.

Only through the Catholic Church does Our Lord become truly present in the Holy Eucharist - one of the many proofs that the Catholic Church is the One True Church.