How to Live

Joy is the beginning, middle, and end of climbing Jacob’s ladder. It is neither frivolous nor superficial—it is the highest fire, flood, mud, and wind of being alive...

By Hillary Keeney

Greetings Everyone,

Last year, a vision came down with a teaching that I haven’t been able to forget. It sticks with me despite recurring bouts of selective amnesia where I remember everything but the wisest and most important things. This vision for me is like a loaf of warm bread that never goes stale. I reliably feed upon it whenever I hunger for re-direction, a blast of inspiration, or a certainty of soul. It’s a teaching on how to live.

First comes the story, then comes the commentary. And there’s some music at the end.

Without further ado, let’s eat.

-Hillary

One night last summer, Brad prayed to his main guide and favorite Kalahari Love Doctor (aka Jesus) for instruction that could be given to the Sacred Ecstatics Guild:

“Please show us how to live in a way that brings us nearer your extreme love. Flood everyone’s heart with the same beautiful fire that re-birthed me in that Missouri chapel when I was 19 years old. How should we live in order to become creatures of your sweet love, mystical light, and divine joy? Guide us each day and lead us closer to complete immersion in your electrified sacred ecstasy!”  

That night, Brad received a response in the form of two visionary dreams:

First, Hillary and I were taken to a fire station in the French Quarter of New Orleans. The firemen were all sitting outside with the station doors wide open. This is a sight we have often seen before, especially when we lived on Dumaine Street. This time the firemen were casually dressed and cooking all kinds of delicious treats. The glorious smell of grilled meat wafted through the air. Laughter bubbled up everywhere and it felt like the happiest party on earth. The dedication of these firemen to staging and producing this joy felt like the highest form of prayer.

The Key by Jackson Pollock (1943)

The most glorious sensation of the dream was hearing the firemen’s music. We didn’t actually see anyone with an instrument, nor did we see anyone sing. But the music, like the extreme elation, powerfully permeated the whole atmosphere in an otherworldly way. I woke up in a state of wonder and exhilaration, marveling at how powerful joy can be—a force that clears away any interference with our feeling the epiphanies, theophanies, and hilarities of divinity.

I expressed my gratitude for this revelation at 3:30 in the morning and later entered a second dream. This time Hillary and I were inside the fire station. Our eyes and ears were riveted on a grand piano in the center of the room. An old man was playing it with all his heart. It was João, my spiritual father from Brazil and one of the greatest healers I ever met.

João Fernandes de Carvalho. Photo by Marcus Campos Pieri from the book Hands of Faith, edited by Brad.

Though not a pianist in real life, in the vision João was playing with a mysterious passion that penetrated every cell of our bodies. The pure, vibrant love that was the source of his healing power poured out of him through the piano keys.

Then he smiled and turned to face us. I knew what he would say before he said it because he had spoken these words to me many times over the years: “See? We are the same.” His expression shot an arrow through my heart, and I woke up electrified with the spirit.

Before going to sleep that night Brad had prayed, “Show us how to live.” The visions answered back: “Have a fire station party.” In other words, to find our way each day to the greatest source and force of love supreme, go for the Big Joy. Wake up your senses and remember how important sacred ecstasy is. Open the doors wide, feed a crowd, and put music in the center of it all.

Joy is the beginning, middle, and end of climbing Jacob’s ladder. It is neither frivolous nor superficial—it is the highest fire, flood, mud, and wind of being alive. Holy joy brings the grease that fries the soul and the chitlin’ power that awakens the spirit. Divine exhilaration heals, sustains, transforms, clarifies, sanctifies, purifies, soothes, grooves, lifts, and gets us through. It’s not extracurricular recreation but part of basic daily spiritual nutrition!

Just ask this Sacred Ecstatics saint, artist, preacher, and one-woman fire station party from New Orleans, Sister Gertrude Morgan:

Photo by Harriet Blum, used with permission.

This kind of bliss is born of the extreme love that erases every conceptual dividing line. Trying to straighten out the knots of our thoughts by stringing them together differently is futile and exhausting. I’ve learned that whatever I think I understand about my troubles—their causes, their reasons, their seasons—none of that elaborate knowing has enough heat or meat to sustain me through the day or help me sleep through the night. Or maybe I’ve just built up a tolerance over the years and popular therapeutics just aren’t strong enough a medicine anymore.

Thankfully I married a fireman who doesn’t waste his time on anything less than prayers like this: “How should we live in order to become creatures of your sweet love, mystical light, and divine joy?” Remember the answer that came down: Have a fire station party.

Yes, But How?

You may be asking, “How do I actually bring this visionary teaching into my daily life?” It’s a good question. But if you live in New Orleans, you are not asking it. You stopped reading after you saw the words “fire station party.” You already called your friends, picked out a costume, filled the coolers, hauled out the boilers and grills, scheduled the brass band, and rented a fire truck to park in front of your place (it will double as a DJ booth). Fire-themed cocktails! The neighbors are excited and decorating their houses. (Can we rent a smoke machine?) You have ideas that this could be an annual thing—a festival even—because there can never be enough reasons to fest and no one needs to convince you that the answer to every deep question is: have a party.

But normal people may wonder if Brad’s dream is about more than New Orleans-style merriment. And of course, it is. Conjuring sacred elation actually takes disciplined dedication, aesthetic attention, and a strong hookup to higher holiness. That’s why João showed up in the vision playing the piano.

He was one of Brad’s spiritual fathers and an extraordinary healer. His rope to God was so strong that as he got older, all he had to do was pray over a glass of water and the patient would drink it and be cured. Later he didn’t even need the water. His prayer and the electrical current it carried were enough to do the job.

João taught that we are each no more and no less than a small pebble. It was this smallness that made João’s heart big enough to host a fire station party inside it day and night, radiating a powerful warmth back out to the world that healed whomever came in contact with it.

João also told Brad what it felt like to heal:

“With each cure and success, I felt a joyous party in my heart. It brought me great happiness to help relieve the suffering of others… with God in your heart you can become fully human.”

We are all departing this world sooner rather than later. So let’s quickly grow up to be firemen—the kind who start holy fires with music and laughter rather than put them out with cold words and bland emotion. Find someplace where people are banging tambourines and piano keys and dancing in the streets or down the aisles. Learn to cook a prayer and defrost your frozen posture. Reach for this song, or this song. Ready for a slow dance? Brad dreamed this song and it makes our hearts fly.

See? We are all the same. Always moving in a circle, ready to feel the glory and melody of life rise again from any shattered heart or forgotten spark. Join us as we party like Ouroborean dragons at the Spirit Fire Station in a visionary New Orleans that is found anywhere and everywhere. Don’t forget this vision. A little food, a lot of music, and a serious commitment to the art of hosting sacred joy—these are enough to strike a match, start a wildfire, and cook our troubles until they are tender and tasty and falling off the bone.

-Hillary & Brad

P.S.

Here is one of our favorite healing stories about João.