Saint-Raymond-de-Pennafort Catholic Church

A walk on St. Jacques on 14 April 2025. Here is Saint-Raymond-de-Pennafort Catholic Church, a mostly Italian congregation, located at 5765, rue Saint-Jacques Ouest. 

St. Joseph's Oratory, Montreal

When we were children we would bike to the Oratory, it wasn't far, then walk around, always in awe and amazed by the size of the place and the celebration of religion that was unlike anything found in daily life, or my life; it was exotic, supernatural, and incredible. On occasion I still visit the Oratory, and quite often I drive by the entrance on Queen Mary Road and look up and marvel. The small chapel is where Saint Brother Andre began his healing ministry; later the larger building that most people are familiar with was constructed.

Driving by the Oratory, on Queen Mary Road

The smaller, older, chapel

In the original, small, chapel near the Oratory

In the small chapel

In the small chapel

On the Solitary Life

I wanted to be a part of something and I thought I was. I thought I was on the great journey of individuation, that I was a part of something connecting me with the great ideas and experiences shared by other people. But, in truth, I wasn't a part of anything. If you believe nothing then all of the old constructs of life, the scaffolding that supported your existence, have collapsed. Belief is, in retrospect, nothing real or lasting, it is a pretence or an illusion of belief—mostly it is a pretence. The doctors are wrong in their diagnoses, the Ivy League educated poets and intellectuals have fooled even themselves with their self-importance, the imams, priests, and gurus are deluded, politicians are obviously liars, social workers want to break up families,  teachers are selling preconceptions based on their idea of what they stand for, intellectuals are filled with book learning but no wisdom or practical knowledge; even shamans are fakes and out for money and fame. I hear Buddhists chanting in their temple and it seems delusionary, what fools! I want to tell them that their hypocrisy appals me. There is no satori, no heaven, no hell, no enlightenment, no god, no prophet, there is nothing and on this basis we begin again, we look for something that transcends the everyday; this is found in poetry, in the fine arts. I asked myself, what if nothing I believe is true? What if all of my beliefs and assumptions about life are wrong? The Emperor has no clothes! He's naked and everything he stood for is a lie and a cheat of belief. I did not decide to believe nothing, I accepted it with difficulty; it was a huge disappointment in life. But then, one day, the scaffolding of belief collapses, there is no free will, there is no certainty about anything except that the Emperor has no clothes. Believe what you want after this, but for now, believe nothing.