More About the Holy Ghost...

I was still pretty much hung up on the Holy Ghost (see previous post), yesterday.  Still in a fog, still not quite right, still battling a nasty germ that kind of set my world upside down. For the life of me I can't remember what those old Nuns in Catholic school told us about the Holy Ghost. It's all so long ago, so fuzzy, I remember some things vividly: the playground, the bloody noses and vomit, the tears, the whacks on the fingers of rulers, the school desks, the blackboards, the chalk, the crucifix hanging above the blackboard, and those dark-habited, Darth-Vader-like Nuns with their golden rings on the fingers. Married to Jesus, don't you know? I think the Holy Ghost was kind of skipped over. Those Nuns were trying hard to make Jesus and Hell and Judgement Day super-real, the Holy Ghost was way too weird and nebulous to tackle. Of course, that's where my mind gravitated to; The Weirdness. Yesterday afternoon I wrapped myself up like a mummy and practiced breathing. Trying my best to make my breath come freer and easier. I also listened to music. I turned to Sigur Ros ( ) (2002). If the Holy Ghost produced an album this would be it. Majestic, mysterious, there are voices but they speak an unknown, invented, tongue. I suppose if you pressed me I'd have to say this is the greatest album ever recorded. It's mystical, magical, exuberant, thrilling, resonant, transcendent, a bit confounding. What is it? I still don't understand it, can't encompass it, I can only experience it. I have listened to it too many times to count. Numbers don't matter. Nothing else matters. Yes, it's that good. The Holy Ghost speaks.