The Rule of the Unholy Hours is not a law to bind but a rhythm to live by. It is a scaffolding for devotion, a spine of intention for those who move through the world with cracked faith, sacred rage, or tender hope. This Rule names the practices, permissions, and postures that shape life in the Technicolor Monastery – not as rigid requirements, but as invitations toward presence, queerness, mutual care, and ritual depth. It honors the cyclical nature of becoming, the holiness of the undone, and the sanctity of everyday acts. Whether you follow it strictly or loosely, alone or in community, this Rule exists to help you live your days as liturgy. 

 

We are the ones who pray late,

weep loud,

rage holy,

and love in the margins.

 

We do not tidy our souls.

We do not worship in straight lines.

 

We keep unholy hours:

the sleepless, the sexed, the breaking, the broken.

We light candles at midnight,

and confess to mirrors,

and speak psalms in the voice that trembles.

 

We vow to be unfinished.

To rest when we are tired.

To tell the truth, even when it costs.

To let pleasure lead us home.

 

We hold grief as sacred.

We name rage as prayer.

We dare to love what was exiled in us.

​

We remember:

the gospel was always queer,

the body always holy,

the Spirit always wild.

 

We break rules and rewrite liturgies.

We kiss dirt and dance ugly.

We let the dead speak and the silence answer.

 

We are not here to behave.

We are here to belong.

 

When we forget,

we return.

When we break,

we bless the pieces.

When we disappear,

we leave the light on.

 

This is our Rule:

soft, defiant, held in trembling hands.

A devotion for the unrepentantly beloved.

A vow made barefoot.

A liturgy that limps.