Friday, December 28, 2007

To The Fourth Finding Society!

I think we made magical beer. Half a glass and I can't see straight. Benji is sick. What have we done?

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Quotes to Remember!

Uncredited, Maybe Wrong, Read Them All, It Won't Take Long!

Marriage/Celibacy: As to marriage or celibacy, let a man take which course he will, he will be sure to repent.
Prayer: Prayer of the lips is better than no prayer at all.
Housekeeping: Keeping things clean doesn't change anything.
Church: Peace seems boring.
Drinking:
Beer is for fun.
Scotch is for talking.
Wine is for meals.
Champagne is for rocking!
Fasting: Don't be dutiful, be beautiful!
Romantic Love: If you hear bells, get your ears checked.
Books: Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?
Saints: Don't do what they do, be what they are.
Children: Don't do what they do, be what they are.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Wee!

The Ochlophobist writes too much.
The Scrivener writes no more.
Gabriel is a lawyer at heart.
The EP boys are a bore.
Unmitigated is underground.
Father Stephen is much too nice.
The tone at Transpozing is still quite sound.
The Sonneteer's on thin ice.
Father Tobias is the best, I suppose.
Should I get a life?
God only knows.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Super Cool!

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

The Lament of The Long Lost Blogger!

What's my password again?
I wonder if my three readers will ever come back.
I still don't have anything to say, but that never stopped me before.

A shot ringing out in the night.

Friday, November 2, 2007

Sanctity!

I'm reading a biography of the Cure' D'Ars, a French Saint. Here is a story the Saint would tell about one of the farmers in his village.

"A few years ago there died a man of this parish, who, entering the church in the morning to pray before setting out for the fields, left his hoe at the door and became wholly lost in God. A neighbor who worked not far from him, and thus used to see him in the fields, wondered at his absence. On his way home he bethought himself of looking into the church, thinking that the man might be there. As a matter of fact, he did find him in the church. 'What are you doing here all this time?', he asked. And the other made reply: 'I look at the good God, and he looks at me.'

"Whenever he told this anecdote-and he did so frequently and never without tears-the Cure' used to add: "He looked at the good God, and the good God looked at him. Everything is in that, my children."

I like how these French people always say "the good God". It's touching that they call attention to God's goodness whenever they speak of Him. The Cure' is an exceedingly sweet Saint. He was skinny from eating only old rotten potatoes, and he had large hopeful eyes. He was such a delicate creature that he confessed to being uncomfortable hugging his mother. Looking at a drawing of him on the cover of the book, it's hard to imagine that such a sweet looking man spent years telling his congregation that they were heading for hell. When he was a child the older kids would make fun of him for praying so much. He had a Frenchman's knack for getting them to shut-up, or for making them look bad. Saints are so much more alive than us normal folk!

Thursday, November 1, 2007

As A Child!

"They brought young children to him."

Show God your weakness.

"His disciples rebuked those that brought them."

Your strength can only get in the way.

"When Jesus saw it he was much displeased. He said 'Suffer the little children to come to me'".

God will welcome your weakness and whither your strength.

"And he took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them."

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Trick or Treat From Your Neighborhood Crank!

When I was a kid Halloween was my second favorite holiday after Thanksgiving. Now that I eat as much candy as I want to whenever I want to, Halloween just isn't that great. It might be more fun for me if I got invited to Halloween parties, but I doubt it. Nothing ruins a buzz like some dork thinking he's funny for wearing an eye-patch and talking like a pirate. And forget ironic and obscure costumes; the point of dressing up is not to be funny. The point is to pretend for a little bit that you actually are a cowboy or a vampire or whatever. Let's face it, we're just too old to pretend.

Also, I hated it when the person answering the door would ask, "What are you dressed as?", when it was quite obvious what I was supposed to be. It's like "Lady, just give me the candy and let me get to the next house." I was a crank even back then.

Happy Halloween!

Yes!

http://www.cutsinger.net/wordpress2/?p=79

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

No More Unmitigated Nonsense.

I'm lucky enough to see Ben at least once a week, so I won't be jonesing too bad for the wisdom and virtue that are clearly manifest in his writing. For those of you who rely on Unmitigated for your weekly dose of level-headedness, I have a plan to get B-Love blogging again. Everytime you get the urge to click on Ben's blog, call him at his house instead. If you don't have his number I'll give it to you if you e-mail me. He'll be back to blogging in no time.

Why, Ben, Why?!!!

Friday, October 26, 2007

A Gay Wizard?!

Three Reasons Why Wizards Can't Be Gay or Straight
(1) Wizards don't fall in love.
Wizards aren't interested in being in love. It's true that insofar as love is a spiritual force that creates and governs the universe, Wizards are interested in it. But no Wizard worth his salt would be so vulnerable as to fall under the control of the force he is trying to master. As Gandalf said (paraphrase): "Wizards cannot destroy something in order to understand it". Isn't "destroying to understand" a definition of romantic love?
(2) Wizards are, technically speaking, not human.
Wizards are somewhere between angels and men. In a way, they are a parody of the Incarnation because they are a sort of fusing together of the human and Divine in an unstable mixture. They may act like they can love like other men, but it's just a show for purposes of concealment or to gain control over another person.
(3) Niether gay men nor straight women like long beards.
Even supposing a wizard did fall in love, he wouldn't be able to find a partner unless he shaved. If he shaved, he would lose all his power.

Therefore, if Dumbledore is gay he is not a Wizard. If he is straight he is not a Wizard either. It's as if J.K. Rowling didn't know anything about magic!

Sunday, October 21, 2007

I'm Still Blogging!

Dirt and water, when mixed, make mud.
Dry mud is just dirt with a past.
Dirt blows away in a strong enough gust.
It takes water to make a soul last.

To keep from drowning, you'd best get a boat.
To have a boat you've got to have wood.
To have wood some trees have got to be grown.
To have trees you'll need dirt under foot.

Once you've scouted for trees that are sound,
Your body will be dried up by dust.
When washing you'll need to make sure you don't drown.
I hear tell that a foot-bath's enough.

Once you're all clean you can finish your boat.
With a boat you'll be ready to sail.
The wind knows the best moment to take you away.
It won't blow 'til you're sure that you've failed.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Dorothy Parker!

The Burned Child

Love has had his way with me.
Thus my heart is torn and maimed.
Since he took his play with me.
Cruel well the bow-boy aimed,

Shot and saw the feathered shaft
Dripping bright and bitter red.
He that shrugged his wings and laughed-
Better had he left me dead.

Sweet, why do you plead me, then,
Who have bled me so sore of that?
Could I bear it once again?...
Drop a hat, dear, drop a hat!

-Dorothy Parker

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Flea Market Montgomery - Long Version!

This one's for you J-dog!

The Raspberries - Go all the way

That's what the lead singer looks like?! Oh my word!

Monday, October 8, 2007

Something I Want To Understand Better!

What are we supposed to pay attention to in church?
In church I'll stare at icons for a little bit, then I'll reflect on the words of the liturgy, then I'll look at the little kids goofing off, then I'll think about what the rest of the day will be like, then I'll close my eyes and start to pray, then I'll open them and look at my watch, and so on and so on. I feel like I'm missing the point and getting few tangible results besides warm feelings. Is there a stable point in me that I can latch onto so as not to get swept away by all the activity? I suppose I could just watch myself not concentrating and this would be a form of concentration, but then I reproach myself for not paying attention to the sights, smells, sounds of the liturgy. I have heard it suggested that, since we have little control over the quality of our concentration when we pray, we should instead attend to the quality of our intentions. While we, as we are, can't will to love God, we can intend to love God. So, while in church we should try to ferret out the real reason why we're there. There are good reasons, and bad reasons, but the good reasons are always deeper. A desire to escape hell is deeper than a desire to pretend we are saints. A desire to see, smell and taste divinity is deeper than the desire to simply watch a pretty service. A desire to know the Truth is deeper than any questions we may have during the service. I need to do some experimenting to see if this is useful thinking.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

Saturday, October 6, 2007

Things I Want To Do/Have Happen to Me!

(1) Wander around the country on foot, visiting Orthodox churches and monasteries.
(2) Strike terror into the hearts of enemies by galloping toward them on a horse while brandishing a sword, spear, mace, or other old-timey weapon. Then, with blood on my weapon, I would like to rear up on the horse and yell as the surviving enemies flee. If there's a princess around, it would be great, but not integral to the awesomeness of the moment, if she threw me her kerchief, or whatever it's called.
(3) Quit smoking for good.
(4) Through a strange series of events be charged with the care of an orphan.
(5) Be telling a story at a bar in front of a large group of young women who, for the most part, don't like me, and, through the magic of my words, render the prettiest woman so overcome with love that she jumps up and kisses me on the lips while I'm in mid-sentence. I would accept the kiss, without kissing back, and then pull her gently away and guide her back to her seat. Then, looking over the stunned, blushing group, I would smile and say, "And I haven't even gotten to the best part." The girls would be fanning themselves now and not quite sure how they feel about me. Then my date, who is prettier than all of them, would show up, give me a kiss on the cheek and lead me to our table where I would drink a lot of beer.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

I Am So Into You!

Do you like Cary Grant and The Atlanta Rhythm Section? Well, sir, it's your lucky day!

Fun With Poetry!

I love a girl who's just like you.
She has the same hair and eyes;
The same dimples and smile,
The same name too.
In fact, she's exactly your size.

The only thing different,
As far as I can see,
Is that she loves me too,
And is imaginary.

Truth!

"Many people imagine that purgatory or hell are for those who have killed, stolen, lied, committed fornication, and so on and that it suffices to have abstained from these actions to merit Heaven; in reality the soul is consigned to the flames for not having loved God or for not having loved Him enough; this can be understood if we recall the supreme Law of the Bible: to love God with all our faculties and all our being. The absence of this love does not necessarily involve murder or lying or some other transgression, but it does necessarily involve indifference; and indifference, which is the most generally widespread of faults, is the very hallmark of the fall. It is possible for the indifferent not to be criminals, but it is impossible for them to be saints; it is they who go in by the 'wide gate' and follow the 'broad way'...

"Even believers themselves are for the most part too indifferent to feel concretely that God is not only 'above' us 'in Heaven', but also 'ahead' of us, at the end of the world or even simply at the end of our life; that we are drawn through life by an inexorable force and that at the end of the course God awaits us; that the world will be submerged and swallowed up one day by an unimaginable irruption of the purely miraculous-unimaginable because surpassing all human experiences and standards of measurement....There will be nothing but this one advent, this one presence, and by it the world of experiences will be shattered."
-FS

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Boo To The Central Branch!


"The so-called 'avant garde' architecture of our epoch lays claim to being 'functional', but it is so only in part and in a wholly exterior and superficial way, since it ignores functions that are not material or practical; it excludes two elements essential to human art, namely symbolism, which is as strict as truth, and a joy at once contemplative and creative, which is as gratuitous as grace. A purely utilitarian 'functionalism' is perfectly inhuman in both its premises and its results, for man is not exclusively a greedy and cunning creature: he is not meant to be comfortable inside the mechanism of a clock."
-Frithjof Schuon

For any Minnesotans who would like to experience the feeling of being 'inside the mechanism of a clock', I recommend that you spend a few minutes inside the recently built library in downtown Minneapolis.

Monday, October 1, 2007

Rules for Love!

Malcolm’s rules for love:

(1) Movement and love go together more easily than stasis and love.
Sex,the proper activity of love, is a movement, not a state, so being in love is a movement. This is why knowing how to dance and being around music is important-also, alcohol, which is like energy in a bottle. Women do not want to sit and talk! If you are sitting for too long, the date is not going well. Keep moving! Also, it will not be impressive that you took her to a museum-any guy can do that. You have to know how to move through the museum in an impressive way.

(2) The static aspects of love should be opaque.
Poetry, which is the food of love, is static in that it is written down, but it compensates for this by being the least clear version of the written word. When sharing thoughts with women, the key is to be unclear in a mysterious poetic manner-hint at hidden depths. Also, go to restaurants where the menu is not easily pronounced. The point is to make food seem more mysterious than it is.

(3) Romance is the act of making the future less clear to women.
Women see more clearly than you what your married life will be like. It hangs over every conversation. Remember: the curtains have already been picked out! You are going to be wrong for them in important ways. Romance is the ability to make that bad picture more hazy in their mind. Not by lying, of course, but by putting a slight twist to everything. They will not believe you if you try to hint that you will stop throwing clothes on the floor or do more dishes. What you need to do is make them feel guilty for wanting you to do such things. Every woman is traditional at heart: there will be some way to turn her to thinking about her inadequacies instead of yours.

(4) Your feelings are more important to you than hers are to her or than yours are to her.
She has been trained from a young age to bridle her feelings for the sake of chastity. You have been taught to act on your feelings: to be a stud. The result is that she does not trust her feelings like you do. That is why it is not important to get her to want to sleep with you. In fact, if she feels those things, she may even begin to resent feeling that way in the morning-even if you didn’t try to sleep with her. So, when dancing, talk. This will add an intellectual tint to her sexual feelings and make her trust them more. Also, do not rely too much on poetry: your words affect you more than they affect her. The main point of the poem is to show that you actually do something sensitive in your off-hours: it means you will be a good dad, but that’s usually all it means to her. Unless she is literary, then it will tie into making the future hazy (rule four): if your poetry is good enough she might begin to entertain the notion that you will be a moderately successful published writer: not much money, but it’s got the mystique!

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Bob Welch - Ebony Eyes live Cal Jam 1978!

Wake up call everybody! Ms. Nicks knows how to rock a tambourine!

Friday, September 28, 2007

Coffee Shop!

I like to sit down next to pretty women,
And listen to them say silly things.
I like to order too much coffee and freak out,
And pretend that I just came here to read.

No pastries for me, I don't like fruity food.
Why did I decide to wear these pants?
They were the cleanest I could find on short notice.
Too much coffee always makes me want to dance.

But I just sit here next to pretty women,
And pretend that I can't hear what they say.
I draw a picture of a dog with a cape on,
And wonder what normal folk are doing today.

Please cease and desist with that guitar sir,
Nobody likes your music, not even me.
Just drink your coffee and shut-up please.
Isn't there somewhere else you need to be?

The pretty women are all gone now.
But more are always on the way.
I guess I'll pack up and drive home now.
I've had enough of people for today.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Work!

I think my prevailing attitude toward the working world can be summed up as follows: "Give me money and leave me alone." If, one day, I were to win the lottery, it would be the happiest day of my life. Because for that day, and maybe longer, I could believe the lie that I wouldn't need anybody anymore. Thank God for poverty.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Beggar!

I, worldling, have no right to speak of worldliness.
Still, I don't want to be part of the world.
I, selfish, have no right to speak of love.
But I dearly love a girl.
I have no right to speak of Wisdom.
I'm a fool who thinks he's a King.
I have no right to ask for Mercy,
So I've taken, quite rightly, to begging.

Fr. Hopko Rocks!

"It happens that men and women who once were human are simply no longer so. They have become nothing but minds and matter, brains and bodies, computers and consumers, calculators and copulators, constructers and cloners who believe that they are free and powerful but who are in fact being destroyed by the very "Nature" that they wish to conquer as they are enslaved to an oligarchy of "Conditioners" who are themselves enslaved and destroyed by their insane strivings to define, design, manage and manipulate a world and a humanity bereft of the God who boundlessly loves them."

"Those who wish to be wise are constrained to be fools. Those who would be great become small. Those who would be first put themselves last. Those who rule, serve as slaves. Those who would be rich make themselves poor. Those who want to be strong become weak. And those who desire to find and fulfill themselves as persons deny and empty themselves for the sake of the Gospel. And, finally, and most important of all, those who want really to live have really to die. They voluntarily die, in truth and in love, to everyone and everything that is not God and of God."

"When we speak about "taking up our crosses" and "bearing our burdens" in imitation of Christ, by the power of God's Holy Spirit, we also learn by painful experience that the crosses we take up and the burdens we bear must be those that God gives us, and not those that we ourselves choose and desire. Thus we become convinced that when our burdens are unbearable and our crosses crush us in joyless misery -- and we become dark, depressed, despondent and desperate -- the reasons are evident. Either we are choosing our own crosses and burdens, and rejecting those sent to us by our merciful God whose thoughts and ways are not ours; or we are attempting to carry our crosses and bear our burdens by our own powers, and not by God's grace and strength given to us by Christ and the Holy Spirit in the Church.
And so we come to another conviction: The Church -- the communion of faith and love (as St. Ignatius of Antioch defined it: henosis agapis kai pisteos), the community of saints who are Christ's own very "members" as his body and bride - is essential to our human being and life. We cannot be human beings - still less, Christians and saints - by ourselves. We need God and his wise and faithful servants. We need God's commandments and living examples of their fulfillment. We need the Church's scriptures, sacraments, services and saints. And we need one another. As Tertullian said centuries ago, "One Christian is no Christian." And as the Russian proverb puts it, "The only thing that a person can do alone is perish." Like it or not, we are "members of one another" in God. If we like it, it is life and paradise. If we reject it, it is death and hell."

-Excerpted from Fr. Thomas Hopko's '07 St. Vlad's Commencement Address.
http://www.orthodoxytoday.org/articles7/HopkoCommencement.php

Boo To The World!

So these, you say to me, are the real things:
Freeways, deadlines, wrist-watches, cars, and jobs.
Loneliness, dusk, anger, the weight of imperfection,
The waiting and sighing, anything but thinking of God.

If those are the real things, then I want to be a phony.
But if you were a fool with me,
Then I wonder if we couldn't topple the world:
With a flick of the finger, we're free!

Escapists escape, which is more than can be said,
For the suit wearing drones who forget that we're dead.
Lovers love, which is more dear than they know,
When they tune in with wifey to watch their show.
The knowers know, which is no small thing!
When the world has petered out, the Church will still sing!

Father Stephen!

I liked something on "Glory to God for All Things"! That doesn't happen much, so I'd better link while the linking's good! (The post is mercifully short by the way)

http://fatherstephen.wordpress.com/2007/09/25/praying-like-a-publican-a-reprint/

Death!

The screen will go blank.
The sky will shudder black.
We'll burn off like morning mist.
Who'll be there to tell what happens next?

And yet, and yet: theology is built on "and yet".
And yet, and yet: our eternal life depends on "and yet".
How can mercy look so small, so ungraspable?
Open your hand: what were you holding?
It seemed so solid and heavy.
Your hand open now, you're praying.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Friendship!

Friendship is no less,
Than shared weakness.
When the last song has played,
The last argument been made,
The last fight been won,
There's still that silence
Asking more of us than strength can muster,
And this is where we are one.

Do you think of me at night when there's nothing left to do?
I think of you.
It's my only sanity,
When my prayers run dry,
To trace out your name on my heart,
And remember that the whole word aches with this same ache.
And you ache too.

How To Be A Poet!

http://www.cutsinger.net/wordpress2/?cat=1

A Question!

In Luke, and if I remember right, in the other synoptics, early in his ministry Jesus heals Peter's mother in law of a fever. It's such a small healing and it seems insignificant. Why are we told that he did this?

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Wreckless Eric's Whole Wide World (Cover)!

These guys are breaking my heart!

Whole Wide World (Cover)!

The technically proficient can't cover this song without ruining it. I think this guy is safe on that count.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

A Cool Fact!

It's a fact, at least if Perennialist crank Rene Guenon is to be believed:
Both the Chinese and Greek languages designate an indefinite multitude on a cosmic scale by the number ten thousand. So, if you were an ancient Greek or Chinese person and you wanted to talk about an epic battle you were at the day before, you could say:
"Looking across the field, I saw ten thousand men with spears charging towards us."
The Greek word murioi, from which I conjecture the English word "myriad" is descended is used both to designate the number ten-thousand, and also to mean 'an innumerable multitude".

Here is my explanation for why cultures so different as the Chinese and Greek have the same way of speaking.

You may have noticed that, when learning how to count in a foreign language, once you are able to count to ten you've pretty much got counting mastered. From then on it's just a vocab problem of learning the word for twenty and thirty and so on. But, something magical goes on when you learn the names for those first ten numbers. It's like all of counting is contained in them. So, you can never really escape the number ten when you are counting: it's insurpassible.

So, ten has a feeling of completeness and insurpassibility. However, ten is also the gateway to all the rest of the numbers, so it must also have something plenitudinous in its nature. How could we hint at this plenitude and still retain the terminal feeling that ten has? We could take ten to the second power and say "there were a hundred men charging towards me", but this doesn't contain the word ten, so we have lost the feeling of insurpassibility. You kind of want to say, "Oh yeah, why weren't there a hundred and one men charging towards you?"

Moving on, we could take ten to the third power: "there were ten hundred men charging towards me", but this doesn't feel quite right because, in saying "ten hundred"instead of "one thousand", we're making the number seem smaller than it is. One thousand kicks ten hundred's butt!

Now, take ten to the fourth power, and it's magic time baby! None of us can really concieve of a thousand of anything. We could comfortably count one hundred of something without taking a break, but to count to one-thousand of something would be pretty mind numbing. You would begin to say to yourself: "this is too much counting, when will it end?" So, one thousand is a great number for symbolizing plenitude and indefinitude. And notice that in saying "ten-thousand" we haven't lost the feeling of insurpassibility that ten has.

If we took ten to the fifth power, 100,000, then we've left ten behind and are emphasizing the number 100. If we take ten to the sixth power we risk looking like we are exaggerating. It looks like ten thousand is our number!

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Schuon!

No doubt some will say that humanitarianism, far from being materialistic by definition, aims at reforming human nature by education and legislation; now it is contradictory to want to reform the human outside the divine since the latter is the essence of the former; to make the attempt is in the end to bring about miseries far worse than those from which one was trying to escape.

Philosophical humanitarianism under-estimates the immortal soul by the very fact that it overestimates the human animal; it is somewhat obliged to denigrate saints in order to better whitewash criminals; the one seems unable to go without the other.

From this results oppression of the contemplatives from their most tender years: in the name of humanitarian egalitarianism, vocations are crushed and geniuses wasted, by schools in particular and by official worldliness in general; every spiritual element is banished from professional and public life and this amounts to removing from life a great part of its content and condemning religion to a slow death.

The modern leveling — which may call itself "democratic" — is the very antipodes of the theocratic equality of the monotheistic religions, for it is founded, not on the theomorphism of man, but on his animality and his rebellion.

Frithjof Schuon

Monday, September 17, 2007

The Best Books For Knowing Truth! (Excluding Revealed Books, and Non-Western Books)!

(1) Plato
Duh! Plato's books are good because you have to be super serious about them to come to a defensible position about their assertions. Kant is like that too, at least that's what they say. But the difference is that Kant hurts your head. When you're reading Plato you feel like you're drinking wine or listening to music: you find yourself nodding your head and thinking you understand. You probably do understand, but you're understanding with a part of yourself that's so deep that when you try to articulate it you end up learning more about yourself than about Plato, which aint a bad thing. To learn about Plato and not just about yourself, you have to take yourself less seriously than you do the book, and the deep insight it gives you. I guess that's another difference between Kant and Plato: it's hard not to turn into a conceited jackass reading Kant and it's hard to stay one when you're reading Plato.

(2) Homer
First book ever written! (Okay, I'm no historian, but I'm saying it's the earliest, greatest book. I may need a graph to show what I'm saying) Anyway: First book ever written and what do we find? Homer knows better than all of us sad moderns put together what it means to be a man. Evolution disproved! Devolution a sad reality! To read Homer is to be comfortably alienated from your conception of what it means to be normal.

(3) Aristotle
Allright, this is not an eclectic list, but I'm just being honest. Besides, these Men contain multitudes, so maybe I am being eclectic. Aristotle combines rigor and profundity in a way second only to Plato. Not that I'm anything close to an Aristotelian, (I wrote one crappy paper on him), but maybe I can smell some kinds of greatness a long way off. Aristotle, I salute you from afar! I don't know how he weathers the storm that is modern science, and, what's more, I don't care. But as far as the making of what appear to me to be meaningful arguments about metaphysics, philosophizing, and ethics is concerned, Aristotle is tops!

(4) Frithjof Schuon
I'm going out on a limb here with this one, but this is my honest opinion: If you want to find an author that can show you profound Truth like Plato, Aristotle, or Homer can, then this is who I would point you to. (I'm cringing as I write this). Here is why I'm probably wrong about this:
(a) I can't appreciate books by Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, Martin Luther, or any of the Fathers of the Church I have pretended to read, like I can appreciate Schuon. Given that this puts me in opposition to every other Christian who has ever lived, I can't help but wonder if I might be a little misguided on this one.
(b) What do I know about profound truth anyway?
(c) Frithjof Schuon was Swiss.
(d) None of my friends like him as much as I do, and I have good friends.
Nevertheless, IN MY CRAZY OPINION, Schuon shows modern man one indispensible aspect of reality better than the three Greeks or anyone else: Religion leads to the Truth!

Thanks!

I met the man made of gratitude.
He destroyed me with his joy.
I put myself back together.
And now I'm alone.
Hopefully he'll come tomorrow,
And I can thank God with him.
And maybe I'll stay broken
For longer this time.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

As Nate and Mom Said: It's One Less Nail To Clip!

This weekend my brother Nate went through the traumatic experience of having the tip of his left middle finger gruesomely mauled by a quickly closing garage door. The doctor had to amputate what was left of the tip. So, my brother has one less joint on that finger. I won't go into details, but his experience would traumatize all but the toughest. He's holding up quite well, all things considered, but, if you will, don't forget him, or our mother, in your prayers tonight.

Hello Friends!

Hello Friends,

I love you all and thank God for all of you. Pray for me and I will for you. There's not much to this life, but to love God. This is hard because we make it hard, and I'm sorry for my part in making it hard. We all have our projects, and our little plans to get the knowledge, money, happiness and power we want. This is good because we're human and made to think. It's bad because we don't think well, or we think well but don't put our thinking into practice. We all have our pettiness, our hatred, our willfull ignorance and congress with evil. But, infinitely more, we have Christ, or maybe I should say He has us. Even when we don't know it well, even if we aren't Christians, we still know this and live off of it (in my view anyway). I wish I was more eloquent, but I don't like this wish. I wish I was a better man, and in Christ I will be!

Love,
Matthew

Friday, September 14, 2007

Elton John - 1970 - Your Song!

I know its not much, but its the best I can do!

Adios Boys!

Malcolm thought about what it would be like in heaven, on that day when he could cross the river separating the Orthodox from the Catholics. He wrote a little story about it.

“I’m going boys.”
“We want to go with you.”
“But you can’t boys. This ache was mine. The reward is mine, too.”
“But how will you cross?”
“By the cross, my boys. The HMS Stuaron is sailing tonight and I paid for my ticket. I’ll tell you what it’s like over there, if I ever come back.”
“Promise you’ll come back, Malcolm.”
“I promise. And promise me you won’t miss me.”
“We’ll miss you Malcolm, but you know we won’t hurt for a moment.”
“I know, boys. I know. Have I ever told you the story of the day Ellie gave birth to her first child?”
“You’ve told the story, Malcolm, but if it’ll keep you here for a little longer, tell it again.”
“Well, allright boys, but only the short version. I can hear the captain calling, and I can smell the flowers on the other side. Her and Jim had been putting it off for too long, and Ellie wasn’t sure she could get pregnant. But, when she did, her and Jim went out for ice cream. Now, you all know what a fight is, right?”
“We knew once. Tell us again.”
“Well, a fight is when two people love each other too much to be nice. That’s what happened that night when Jim and Ellie got ice cream to celebrate the new little life in her. The fight started when Ellie remarked on being lactose intolerant and that it might hurt the baby if she had too much. Jim had been working so hard to keep Ellie happy, and he wanted a little bit of joy without any worry. He wanted to be up here for a minute and he thought Ellie didn’t want to, or the devil made him think it. But, deep down he knew that she did want to. But, as it tends to go on earth, he went about it all wrong. They fought about ice cream, but it was really about God, see? Well, that new little life in Ellie didn’t mind the ice cream, but the fighting made it feel funny. It got all weak and didn’t want to come out: can’t blame him, can we boys?
“You said it!”
“Anyway, the day that baby was born, it almost didn’t make it. But Ellie looked at Jim, and Jim looked at Ellie, and they just knew that whether the baby made it or not, they were gonna get through it together. See, God and that baby, George was his name, God and that baby used Jim’s mistake to make love stronger.”
“Stop it Malcolm, you’re gonna make us remember how to cry.”
“Aw shucks, boys, tears ain’t nothing but liquid joy. You know that. Take care now, the wind’s gonna be blowin’ hard over here for a bit, and you might hear a little gunplay on the water, but don’t be scared. I hear the Metropolitan and his crew are having a little fun with that new pirate ship they got. Word around the campfire is, they aim to stop me. But we know how that’s gonna go, don’t we boys?”
“Malcolm 1, Clergy 0”.
“Couldn’t-a said it better myself. Adios.”

Excerpted from Life As It Stands And Has Been Standing Since Before The World Was Made: A Prosopography of Minnesota by Samson Swedenmusser

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Day Planner Sample Page!

8:00 am-8:10 am: Think about God.
8:10 am-8:20 am: Pray.
8:20 am-11:30 pm: Think about myself.
11:30pm-11:40 pm: Pray.

Breaktime!

I was cleaning a large, new suburban house today before the new owners moved in their furniture. You know the kind of house I'm talking about, right? Cavernous, done up with nice, quirky paint on the inside; the kind of house that, even when it's dirty feels a little too clean; the kind of house where each of the three kids each gets their own personalized room to put their own personal TV and Playstation 3. I was wandering around, tired of wiping up crusty kool-aid from the floor of the fridge. I was looking around the huge empty living room, wondering just how big a couch you would need to make the room look normal, when I broke down and said: I need a break.

I went outside and sat down on the nice new deck and looked at the poor little trees just sitting there in the shadow of these monster houses. There was one scraggly tree, the biggest of the bunch, that had little cherry looking fruits dangling everywhere. Those fruits should have been eaten by someone or something by this time of year. I was feeling bad for myself, and bad for the tree, and just then I heard a voice.
"Please stop looking at me." It was the tree. I could tell because it was waving, but there was no wind.
"Stop looking at you? Why?"
"Don't you know? Trees don't like to be looked at when they're alone."
"But you're not alone. Look, you have two little guys right next to you."
"But I am alone, because I know I'm the best tree in the neighborhood."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know I'm the biggest.", the tree shook a little like it was sobbing.
"That doesn't make you the best, though."
"That's how it is with us trees: the biggest is the best and the best is the loneliest. That's why we like being in forests, because no-one can tell who the biggest is because everyone is all crowded together."
"Why does being the best make you feel lonely? It should make you feel proud."
"But that's why I feel lonely, because I'm the only one who knows how great our little group of trees is. I'm lonely because I'm proud of us, and there's no-one to tell."
"Well, you just told me."
"Yeah. But you don't count. You're not a tree."
"That's true. Why don't you tell the houses? They used to be trees."
"I can't tell these types of houses anything. Just look at them, you can barely tell one board from another, and there are no big logs jutting out anywhere. They don't even look like wood with all that paint on them."
"Actually, you're pointing at some vinyl siding, but I see what you mean. We didn't used to build houses like this. We used to build log cabins and stuff."
"Oh, don't remind me. Those were the good old days, when a tree would beg the woodcutter to use him for the central beam."
"So I guess humans used to be more important to you guys than they are now."
"Yes. But ever since you started using us to make these crappy houses, we decided you weren't worth much after all."
"I can't blame you, but maybe I can try to correct you a little. We aren't really acting like humans when we do that sort of stuff. We're acting more like demons or something else that's evil and cold. Humans are still really great, it's just there aren't that many humans around anymore."
"Why should I believe you?", I think the tree made a sniffle noise with some of its leaves, or maybe a squirell was swishing around where I couldn't see him.

(To be continued)

Fruitsville!

God's Life is brilliant.

God's Life is brilliant.
God's Love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.
She smiled at me on the sidewalk.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
Because I've got a plan.

You're beautiful, you're beautiful,
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face, in a crowded place.
And I don't know what to do.
Because I'll never be with you.

She caught my eye, as she walked on by.
She could see from my face that I was flying high.
And I don't think that I'll see her again.
But I saw a beauty that will last 'till the end.

You're beautiful, you're beautiful,
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel, with a smile on his face,
When he thought up that I should be with you.
But, it's time to face the truth.
I will never be with you.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Donald Fagen - Morph the Cat!

What is going on in this song?

Existence is a Rose!

We can no more escape the cross than we can escape Existence. At the root of all that exists, there is the cross. The ego is a downward path drawing man away from God; the cross is a halting of that path. If Existence is "something of God", it is also something "which is not God", and it is this which the ego embodies. The cross brings the latter back to the former and in so doing permits us to overcome Existence.

What makes the problem of Existence so complex is that God shows through everywhere, since nothing could exist outside of Him; what matters is never to be separated from this distant perception of the Divine. And that is why enjoyment in the shadow of the cross is conceivable and even inevitable; to exist is to enjoy, even though it be at the foot of the cross. That is where man must keep himself, since such is the profound nature of things; man can violate this nature only in appearance. Suffering and death are none other than the cross reappearing in the cosmic flesh; Existence is a rose signed with a cross.

-Frithjof Schuon in The Fullness of God: Frithjof Schuon on Christianity pg. 162

Sunday, September 9, 2007

How Do I Love Thee?!

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints!---I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!---and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

"...feeling out of sight for the ends of Being and ideal Grace."

Who has not felt this pull to the "ends of Being"-a desire to stretch out to the corners of the sky and dissolve into the pure receptive fecundity of the ether? And yet we want to keep a part of our own particular loves-our soul feels it a scandal to relinquish its little objects of affection. We know they must one day go if we are to incarnate "ideal Grace", but we don't want to let them go yet. We decide, then, to seek the kernel of heaven in our gripping, fevered loves. We decide to love "with the passion put to use in [our] old griefs." How can we not then hope to love "better after death", having knowingly added our grief induced passions to the mix? I'm not giving the Orthodox stamp of approval to these sentiments, just pointing out that they seem an accurate representation of the soul's movements from a romantic to a spiritual love.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

?!

I cherish my soul,
Though it be but an aching, liquid longing,
That will not dry
Until the Sun,
And not its image,
Has finally ascended.

Friday, September 7, 2007

From This Very Moment!

What a sea that night! The islands were black shadow humps swallowing the moonlight. The wind didn’t touch us there, when we passed by them. We knew we were passing by when a dead calm settled on the deck. We knew we had passed when the wind started up again. But, back to the sea: what a tossing marble of black, hiding all, revealing only what was reflected on the surface! The moonlight could not penetrate it. My eyes could not penetrate it, but I was lost in staring all the same, looking down, down at the water but only seeing our little steamer lit up with foggy, dirty lamplight. Perhaps I saw a flash of a whale belly, but no, it was only the moonlight and my poor vision.

Staring, staring, and then the voice from below, a little bit of warm golden light, light that you could hear, light that could talk. That voice had called me down below for two nights and was calling me again. No more murky staring, not anymore this night anyway. I left my post and snuck below deck, following the voice to the corner of the bunk room. There he is, behind the hammocks with the off-duty men ranged all around. A little golden lamp burnt calm and small, safe behind glass. His eyes were twinkles. His fingers were little matchsticks, skinny and red at the tip: if they pointed at you, you burst into flame-maybe you were embarassed, maybe ashamed, but you were warm. And always the voice, golden and lulling like the sun on the blue water of the afternoon. You could bake in that voice if you were not careful. Or you could melt like ice if you were just careful enough to listen and not speak, to be loved and not love back-he would melt you if you would freeze in your place at his gentle rebuke.

So, leaning back on the hammock, I froze, looking at the dark shadow cast on the ceiling by my bulky body. I answered his questions in my heart, or let the other men speak for me. It was not my wish to be seen, but he saw into me anyway.
“Gentlemen, what do you love above all, and what will each of you need to be happy?”
“I want money. Enough money, just enough.”
“Good. And you?”
“One day I will be captain of my own ship.”
“Maybe you will. What about you, sir?”
“She is beautiful, and she is all I think about. Here is her picture.”
“She is a beauty to be sure. May you love her well. And now that you have all spoken in your own honest way about your various loves, are we not brought to one conclusion: that whatever a man approves of, whatever he himself and nobody else considers the highest, the most worthy object of his attentions-that is what he loves?”
“How could it be otherwise?”, one man said.
“It is always otherwise with us. Listen and answer: Is not he who fashioned us, made all of these beautiful things we want and gave us our desire for these things, he who nurtures us, sustains us, loves us because he is love-is not he, our Jesus Christ, the most worthy object of love for any man?”
“Yes!”
“And would you say, then, that you love Jesus Christ?”
“Yes!”
“ ‘Yes!’, you say. May it be as true as it is heartfelt! I myself have been trying to love God for forty years and I still do not love him completely. You are looking at me now. Good! If we love someone we always remember them and what they want-we try to please them day and night and are always picking a flower and sighing or seeing them around every corner. Is this the way you all love God? Do you turn to him with such ease and hope? Do you pray to him and fulfill his commandments with love’s zeal?”
Not one man among us said he did. Perhaps for fear of being refuted, perhaps because he saw what he was for a moment. I was frozen in my hammock. I would not have moved if you had a gun to me. The air in the room was shot through with dangerous thought and teetering wills. What would each of us be in this moment that none of us really wants? Where would we choose to walk when the steamer hit land and we went back to our wandering lives? There is no thought in a moment like this-it is too dangerous-like every thought is a step on a path and every path leads either up or down.
“Then let us look to our own good in this moment! At least promise yourselves that from this very moment we will try to love God more than anything and to fulfill His Holy Will!”

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Truth!

I want to see the Truth naked, without the qualifications, questions, doctrinal reservations.
I want to see naked Truth and I want you to see it too.
I want to taste joy without a mediating mind of "nos" and "yesses". And God forbid a "maybe".
Should I be ashamed? Who cares!? Ask the Truth about shame.
Why are we not all in love with each other?

The Bachelor Life!

John threw a huge piece of cornbread at me this morning from ten feet away. I was drinking a Diet Coke at the time. The bread hit the can hard enough to dent it and send coke flying all over my shirt and the floor. It was a really good throw. We were both pretty impressed. Just now he threw a bouncy ball at me. It hit me directly in the face. I have to learn to watch out for flying objects. That, or I need to start fighting back.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

john mayer - your body is a wonderland!

What can I say? I'm a fruit!

Joy!

Something I just noticed about joy: it wants to share itself with other people. Maybe that's why everyone gets married-so that even when things look really bad, you can still share the burden with whoever knows you best and in doing so remember the joy at the heart of creation. Sounds like a Hallmark card, but ain't it the truth!

Too Many Chicken Nuggets!

Ugh. I just ate two McDonald's cheeseburgers, a large fry and five chicken McNuggets. What the hell is a McNugget? Oh shoot, it's a fasting day! Oh well, what else is new? The commercials that McDonalds put on when I was a kid were much better than the ones they do nowadays. "I'm lovin' it!" - that's so bland. The last one wasn't much better-"We love to see you smile!" You liars, you don't care one bit whether I'm smiling or reeling from a grease overdose.

I don't remember what the slogan was when I was a kid, but I do remember little dancing talking McNuggets. They were perfect in their freakish way: McNuggets are so different looking from anything that is normally considered edible that you expect them to start singing to you. At least back then McDonalds was having a little fun with their image. Nowadays, on the cups and bags they invite you to their website to learn about their ever changing menagerie of "global casting stars". They also have a little profile of a "global casting star" on each bag. The profiles are the most condescending little pieces of drivel: one person is some extreme sports nut, another person is a deaf sign language teacher, another one is a housecleaning fool and on and on. I think the idea is to emphasize "diversity" or something, but all it ends up doing is making everyone look equally disposable: like their personality can be jotted down in a few lines on a greasy bag. But what do you expect from a place like McDonalds: A place that devotes itself to churning out an endless string of uniform food products?

So, why do I go there? Because I'm addicted to it! Help!

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

A Grim Laugh!

The Spirit works in our darkest heart, to make our joy complete.
Though pain rips out from our deepest parts, the punishment is meet.
For no one gets what he doesn't want, though what he wants may burn.
And looking back, no one will think that he recieved less light than he earned.

Monday, September 3, 2007

Crazy Love by Poco (via Hanna-Barbera)!

Beautiful like a child's dream.

The Passion of the Christ!

I must confess the scenes of torture, at first very moving, got a little boring for me, except for when they were mediated through the eyes of the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene. The Virgin truly was co-bearing Christ's sufferings in this movie.

The most affecting part of the movie for me was just before Christ died when he said "My God, my God why have you forsaken me?" I have never felt that question to be so apt as when I watched it here. That question before his death brought home to me the whole point of the Christian tradition: to know and love God with our honest rock-bottom heart, the part of us that is beyond physical and emotional suffering, beyond the reasoning mind. If we did not believe with this part of us that Jesus Christ is the way to the Father, then despite all of the suffering and the drama of the story, we would owe it to God to turn elsewhere. When I heard that question in the movie, I felt like I was standing next to the cross with all of humanity asking God the same thing. Not in an angry, rebellious way, and not because my emotions had gotten the best of me but with full sincerity and with the blessing of heaven. It was like all of prayer was in that moment.

Before watching this, I had never realized how radical a charge it was that Christ not only told Mary that the Beloved Disciple was her son, but also told the Beloved Disciple that Mary was his mother. It seems if Christ's only concern had been to see that Mary was cared for, the first statement would have been enough. It would have been like saying(I am writing my own script here): "Mother, I can't take this man's parents away, but if you want protection, you may look to him." In the movie John nodded when Christ said "Behold, your son", and you believed that John knew his responsibility. But Christ also told John(once again writing my own script): "She is now your real mother." Christ, it seems, was concerned that John cut his ties to his parents in a more radical way than John had envisioned when he confidently agreed to care for Mary. In other words, John was being asked to throw his own mother out on the street, if caring for her came into conflict with caring for Mary. To be stewards of the church is to take on a quiet, but strict ascesis: to stop nodding so confidently and naturally when Christ asks us to love the church: we must look deeper in ourselves, to the part of us that does not offer God assurances, that does not know in a natural way how to love, but that trusts God to love through us.

Allright, Allright, I'll See It!

http://www.cutsinger.net/wordpress2/?p=49

The Most Beautiful Woman In the World!

What is this? How could this be? Is she smiling? Oh God, yes. She's smiling. The sun just broke through. Ouch. Ouch! Damn, that hurts! I wish I could die right now. Back into the cave! Anything but this piercing light! Oh, don't stop! Maybe I died. Did I die? Maybe I was just born. I'll have to find my parents and ask them. They won't recognize me anymore will they? I'll be smiling with her smile, breathing her air. Don't look at me! Don't talk to me! I have nothing to say, just let me look. Stop right there, but keep moving! Just go about your business, nothing to see here!

Oh my gosh, she's petting the dog. She loves him. Pet me please! But she's allergic! Oh, her eyes are watering, she's sneezing and laughing. She's flipping her hair back! It's like in the shampoo commercials! She must be using something better than Pantene though! Here she comes! Quick, behind the tree! What should I be doing? I'm tying my shoe, that's it!

I can hear her walking by. She makes the air whisper! Is it safe to look? Hah! Was it ever safe? Look and look again you fool. Here eyes! Is this what you wanted? Take your fill you gluttons! This will be the end of you and the rest of my senses. No need for you anymore where I'm going. I've seen what I came to see!

She's gone. If she's gone, why does everything look like her? Why is every song about her? Walking living death! Am I resurrected? Then where is she? Where could I be? The sky is still blue. Still blue? It's bluer than that. You're done for, you fool! To the bottle!

Saturday, September 1, 2007

Lonesome Loser!

Filmed the year of my birth. Coincidence?

Terry Jacks - Seasons In The Sun

"Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees?" Great name Mr. Terry Jacks, I don't know about your lyrics.

Friday, August 31, 2007

To My Friends!

I love you all!

Why I Think The Internet Isn't That Important!

I have had a couple of conversations lately about how the internet has changed our lives, and how it will change our lives. I don't think it changes our lives all that much. Of course, I lead a strange life, and I am not into social/political thinking so I may be way off base here.

(1) Does the internet make us waste time?
I guess it depends on what you would be doing were you not on the internet. If you were watching TV before and now you are reading more, I think chances are this is a good change. If this takes you away from your family, this is probably bad, but then it's just like everything else-it can turn into a problem if you use it as a substitute for better things. There's no such thing as an internet addiction, or if there is, then you can be addicted to anything. I like the idea of people sticking it to their bosses by reading articles or playing video games instead of filling out TPS reports. I don't think people would have so easily put up with cubicles if there was no internet, but cubicles would be here anyway: it fits so well with the American idea of preferring utility (or nearly anything else) to beauty. As far as shopping goes: I don't buy many gifts so I can't comment, but the internet has definitely increased the amount of time I spend shopping for books since you can't replace the bookstore experience, and the internet book shopping experience is pretty fun, what with the reviews on Amazon and all.

(2) The sharing of knowledge.
Books are still the best place to go to know something deeply, but what about all of these facts that are at our fingertips? Fact lovers will get their facts a little faster, but that doesn't matter much. It is perhaps easier for journalists to put on a show of erudition, but everyone sees through that right? As far as the exchanging of information between cultures: the barriers broke long ago. Iran for example is going to be Muslim and therefore politically different from us, regardless of anything mere information can do. If you wanted to talk about what makes revolutions happen, you have to talk about religion and I can't see the internet as being anything more than a side topic in such a discussion.

(3) Porn and Gambling
It's definitely easier to get porn, and to gamble, which is probably the worst change the internet brings: it's harder to be good, but not so hard that we are excused.

(4) Blogging
Near and dear to me right now, so I'm probably wrong about what I think. Plus the rules I set for the Eleven Posts To Glory preclude me from talking about writing, so I'll leave it for another day.

The Best Book You've Probably Never Read!


Muhammad: His Life Based On The Earliest Sources

By Martin Lings

Now, I'm not encouraging any of my Orthodox brethren or sistren to read about Islam if they don't want to, but if they do want to, this is the best book I have read on it. I think it might be helpful for a Christian approaching Islam to start with the figure of Muhammad, though he is not the center of their religion: the Quran is. As Christians, we think of religion as centered around a person, so it might be helpful for us to see Islam's most central person from an Islamic perspective. This book is good if you are looking not so much for information, as for meaning, though it has a lot of important information in it too. If you would like to get an idea of why Muslims revere Muhammad, I wouldn't know where better to tell you to turn. Martin Lings, the author of this book, spoke approvingly of Karen Armstrong's book on Muhammad, but she is coming from a mindset which is concerned with maintaining (in my view) a false kind of objectivity, whereas Lings writes from the perspective of a practicing Muslim (albeit a strange kind of Muslim-that's another post in itself).

This book is not easy to get into, because there are a lot of Arabic names and a lot of people to keep track of, but once you get into the story, it becomes easier. The book it most resembles to me is Lord of The Rings, because it tells something of an adventure story, and it has an air of nobility and holiness about it. I wouldn't recommend reading it if you feel weak in faith, because, if it affects you like it did me, it will raise questions about being religious in general and make you think deeply about why you are a Christian and not something else. I read it before I became Orthodox, so I had a lot of convert zeal, some rational, some irrational, to get me through it. I came out of it with a greater appreciation for the holiness of Christ. This book made me want to pray.

Almost There

When will it end?
Too many missed moments have whiled away the days,
While we wait-for what?
Too many hours spent in languishing,
Languishing, and suffering: a muted kind with no glory.

The afternoon is golden.
The dust is floating in the light, out of the light.
There is a sweetness here, down in the waters, down in the reservoir of tears.
But it is a dark sweetness, too real to taste here.
We await your coming, O Lord.

Coffee!!!

Coffee is mother earth's brown avenger.
The just fruit of our wanderlust's ambition. (what a bad line)
Each day is a case of the jitters,
When far-flung imports start our ignitions.
Would that we cared about what made for peace.
Then we might start our mornings with water.
Instead we use a filter pulped from trees,
To strain our souls through caffeine's tense grinder. (what a bad line)
And so we owe our thoughts to poor farmers.
Unless our muse is drinking free trade.
In that case we're safe from Karma.
Though I shudder at the price we paid.
It's no wonder that none of us sleep sound
When we start our mornings on shaky grounds. (I apologize for this poem)

Fourth Gospel-Four (Now Five) Reasons!

Why is the Gospel of John my favorite?

(1) The Prologue is poetic. I don't doubt that many good books could be written exploring the first eighteen verses of John. On the one hand, it reads like a poem:

In the Beginning was the Word,
And the Word was with God,
And the Word was God,
The same was, in the Beginning, with God.

Looking over those first few lines, I am tempted to say that it reads like the poem: the first and last poem ever written, because it vehicles the presence of the Word, the source of all meaning poetic and otherwise.

(2) On the other hand, those first few lines are also philosophical: the little argument maker in me sees the potential for much thought over the idea of something that both is God and is with God: "how should we express this paradox?", we say to ourselves. So, while the prologue may be poetic, it is not obscurely so. Or, if it seems obscure, it is because it is being clear in laying out the problems that thinkers will have in approaching the Word. I must admit to having a hard time finding fodder in the rest of the Gospel for my little argument maker, but I don't doubt it can be done.

(3) It, more than the other Gospels, gratifies a love of characters. I don't mean to disparage the other three Gospels, or suggest I have made a thorough study of the various characters in them, but on first glance, the Gospel of John is the one that most effectively presents us with varied personalities. The first character that comes to mind is that of Nathaniel. Jesus calls our attention to his peculiar, paradoxical attribute: "An Isrealite indeed, in whom is no guile". The next one is Nicodemus. He is the first character to have an extended one-on-one dialogue with Christ. He pops up later in the Gospel, still concerning himself over Christ, and a great essay or book could be written on his spiritual struggles. The other striking one-on-one dialogue is the one between Christ and the Samaritan woman. Talk about a character! I think Chaucer owes his portrayal of the Wife Of Bath to John. Of course the character hanging over the whole book is that of the Beloved Disciple. I have nothing profound to say in a short space, but that is not because I lack things to say about him.

(4) Finally, the cosmological aspects of John appeal to me. Wind, Water and Light: Rebirth in the Gospel of John: that was the pretentious title to my final paper at St. John's. In his dialogue with the Samaritan woman, Jesus is using the word 'water' in a way that just teases me. I want to know what he is getting at. I get the feeling that if someone were to understand this, then every word Jesus used would take on a new significance. Of course, the point is not to understand water, but to get a handle of Jesus' way of speaking. There is perhaps some Platonism that could be brought in: like he is talking about the form of water, but that just seems like a starting place. I get the feeling that, for my mental health, I need to back off from symbolic thinking, but if I thought it was a good idea, John is the place I would start.

(5) I originally only wrote four reasons for preferring the Gospel of John, but I remembered a fifth. I don't know what it means that I forgot about this, but the Gospel of John seems to have much to say about knowing the Truth. The man born blind is given a whole chapter in John, whereas he is treated briefly in the Synoptics. Doubting Thomas has a prominent place. Jesus beckons in the beginning of the Gospel to "Come and see". And of course, Christ calls Himself the "the Truth" in this Gospel. I mentioned above that the philospher will find argument fodder if he looks. Of course, he will also find the consummation of his arguing in John. Wayward seeker that I am, I forgot this!

An Old Story!!

A crow sits on the judgment seat. He ruffles his feathers, clears his throat, caws. His wig sits white on his crown. His beady eyes blink at the courtroom. At the defense table, rubbing his hands, looking around, sits Man. The audience: goats, giraffes, and the rest of Noah's passengers.

The first witness, a lion, is called.
Crow caws: "And what, Lion, have you to say for the accused? What has man been to you? Had you need of him for aught?"
"On the plains, it is my prey and I and that is all. I have, these many years, eaten nothing that did not die at my claw. Man came once, to pray and fast, but he left as quick as he came. We lions went on just the same."

Next witness: the fish.
Fish: "Aye, aye that's the one: So 'ere I am mindin' my own busyness and wat! and 'ere comes this tasty bit o' worm wrigglin' and juicy. So I says to my Percy, 'hey Percy that worm looks like a tasty bite, what say you and I don't have ourselves a piece?' Next thing you know, I look up and there's Percy bein' pulled out of the drink, wrigglin' and gaspin' like a minnow with palsy. I saw Man standin' there holdin' my Percy, and Percy's still wrigglin' with wide eyes, and what does that Man do next? He fries Percy up over one of them hot things the world goes on about."

Crow: "Let the record show that Fish speaks of "fire".

Fish: "That's right judge, he fried Percy over one of them fires! No, no I 'aint got a bit 'a use for Man. All I got out of him was one less mate and a load of grief. Hang 'im I say."

It went on like this for hours. And despite the monkeys, the eagles, the platypus, the pandas, no animal found any use in man at all. The dogs had a hard time admitting it, but they didn't really need man to feed them, they just found it so exciting. They whimpered and looked ashamed in man's direction, but they had to side with the others.

As everyone was restless to go, the last witness buzzed up to the stand. Since his voice was small, and quite annoying in the ear, no one at first gave a listen. But he kept on screaming, and the crow beat the gavel. The courtroom strained their eyes to see: in the box was a little mosquito screaming: "If Man goes, what will happen to me?!"

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Hard to Believe!

Hard to believe, but right now somewhere, Athos I picture, there may be a man who touches all with his sight, has all that could ever be wanted by pining lovers, anxious Americans, silly writers, quarreling couples, and penitent worshippers.
His death will be his truly, and Christ's-a choice he and Christ make to die that we may live.
If he showed us his face, this great globe and its surrounding cloud of stars would burn like a flower an inch from the sun.
For us he dies, fasts, chooses to walk rocky paths, smiles with dimples and stays quiet when the pilgrims bow.
"If you wanted, you could be with me. And you do want this, you just don't know it. The most outer of spaces is in your heart. The morning star mingles with your freckles. That tiny ache in your breast is swallowing the world."
And this man breathes the same air, eats the same food, as the politicians, the academics, the movie critics, the bartenders, the movie stars, the newspaper reporters, the bloggers, the murderers. In the same world, but not of it.
Hard to believe, but we could be him, if only we would choose what we want.

Citizen Kane is Worse Than Godfather 3!!!!!!


Citizen Kane is overrated. On this we can all agree. Despite what the critics say, it is not the #1 movie of all time. The reason for this is simple: Godfather 2 is the best movie of all time. Well, then, you interject, Citizen Kane is at least the second best movie of all time. Wrong! The first Godfather is the second best movie of all time. Now, you might be thinking that Godfather 3 must be the third best movie of all time. Wrong again! Casablanca is the third best movie of all time. Godfather 3 is on the all-time list, but it is way down there somewhere around 11, after The Big Sleep and Double Indemnity. (Foreign films don't count, otherwise I would have mentioned Red and also White).


Citizen Kane is below eleven on the true all-time list, because it is worse than Godfather 3. Why is it worse than Godfather 3? It's simple:


Citizen Kane is about a man who loves a snow sled. Godfather 3 is about a man who loves his family. Now, loving a sled might make sense to movie critics, who prefer to stare at an inanimate movie screen for their whole lives. But most people would rather see a story about a man who loves other people. I can hear the whiny, high paid film school teachers sniveling right now: "But what about the symbolism?". What symbolism? Are you trying to say that Rosebud symbolized Kane's longing for a normal family life, which was 'nipped in the bud' when Kane was taken away under guardianship? Aren't you clever! Suppose this is right. Then, why would anyone want to watch a movie about a character who is such a wuss that he has to love a sled to deal with a mildly bad childhood, when they can watch a movie about a character who is so tough and real that he is directly or indirectly responsible for half his family getting killed, including his daughter and brother, and still manages to look sympathetic and manly in the end? Booya!

New Frisbee Game: Frisbam!

When this game is done right, it's fought, not played. It's more of a duel, if you will (and I hope you will). Your weapon: a frisbee.

Hat tip to Jack for collaborating on the rules during a fine camping outing to Lake Maria.

Here's what you do:
(1) Bring one (1) friend to a large grassy field.

(2) Take off your shoes. Why? I'll tell you later. Just do it! Set one of your shoes down on the grass and pace four steps away toe-to-heel. Set your other shoe down.

(3) Walk to the middle of the line you just made between your two shoes. Now stretch your arms out as far as they go and wave them over your head and all around. The area in which you are waving your arms is the spherical shaped top of your strike zone. Picture yourself as trapped inside a giant upside-down test tube. The area in this tube is your whole strike zone. Your shoes will help you keep track of it.

(4) Have your friend do the same thing at an appropriate distance away from you. What is an appropriate distance? You are going to be chucking a frisbee directly at your friend as hard as you can, so you will have to be the judge. Here is a rough guideline:
-(a) More than 25 feet away: You're a sissy. Take your purse and go home.
-(b) Less than 10 feet away: See you at the hospital.

(5) Pick up the frisbee. Each of you stand in the center of your test tube.

(6) Now chuck the frisbee at your friend as hard as you can. The goal is to get it in your friends' strike zone and to throw it so hard that your friend drops it or misses it. Your friend can only use one hand to catch it.

(7) Scoring
-(a) If your throw is in the strike zone and:
----your friend touches it and drops it, you get 1 point
----your friend catches it, he gets 1 point
----your friend completely misses it, you get 2 points
-(b) If your throw is outside the strike zone and:
----your friend catches it, he gets 2 points
----your friend merely touches it, he gets 1 point

Notice that it is okay, encouraged even, to chuck the frisbee directly at your friends' face. By the way, don't plan on using your fingers for a few days after playing.

Cars!

Traffic is fatal to a car's sense of self.
"All these wires, this metal, just to crawl?
If I go no faster than man himself,
I might as well not be driven at all.
Hey Toyota, Chevy, GMC, Ford!
Saturn, Honda, Kia, Mitsubishi
Are any of you other fine cars getting bored
Idling here or am I just being preachy?"
"No man, Audi's right, let's blow this pop stand.
Some oil's chillin' in the fridge at home.
We can watch Nascar or maybe C-Span.
On the way we can stop at Auto Zone."
"Oh man just forget it, were still just cars.
This jam's so bad we forgot who we are!"

Gird Yourselves!

John has thrown down the gauntlet. I am eleven posts away from blogging glory. Here are the rules:

(1) No video posts.
(2) No previously written material, except for other people's writing, but then I must have a point to make about it.
(3) Must include at least one sonnet. No more than two sonnets allowed.
(4) Must include at least one non-sonnet poem. No more than two.
(5) Must include at least one reflection on scripture. I can do as many of these as I want.
(6) Must include at least one movie review.
(7) Must have the last post up by midnight.
(8) I cannot write about love, women, writing, or myself.
(9) I leave it up to readers to judge whether something is too short to be considered a real post. Keep in mind, if it is profound, one sentence may be better than a whole paragraph.
(10) This post does not count.

Manfred Mann's Earth Band - Blinded By The Light

These lyrics can't be as obscene as I think they are.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Ha Ha!

Once, in college, I had a terrible crush on a girl who was in my math class. She had a frustrated, flustered, intense way about her when she was presenting a proof at the board that sent me into giggle fits if I didn't control myself. One day, I just didn't care, so I giggled all the way through her presentation. Pretty rude. She finally turned to me and asked, "Why are you laughing?" I thought about it and realized I didn't know why. Part of it was because I am immature and wanted to show her affection through teasing her. You know, the sort of thing most of you stopped doing in fifth grade. But that didn't seem to me to account for all of it.

It wasn't until recently, reading from Bishop Segrist's Theology of Wonder, that I began to get more of a handle on this aspect of my character.

Now I suppose folly, like humor, has at least two components: exuberance and incongruity, and both of these resonate to the heart of religious experience, do they not? Exuberance is the experience of things as ever new and ever renewed in God's ever-beginning Creation. The world is always amazing and fresh to the religious heart, the heart of the fool certainly, which knows that every day is the first day of Creation.

Beyond this there is incongruity, which can be the source of that bitter humor which points up the terrible and yet terribly funny, gap between what is and what ought to be; it is 'laughter through tears,' or instead of tears. So Freud regarded humor to be essentially a transformation of hostility.


The mention of incongruity resonated with me, because it made me realize that my laughing so much is a way to deal with the frustration I feel when love isn't meeting my expectations. That is why I laughed at the girl I had a crush on: as a way to relieve the tension in my heart. My soul thinks it must either laugh at the absurdity of a difficult love life or despair over feeling so alone.

As far as exuberance goes: As I was watching that funny girl at the board, I was getting a deeper glimpse into her character. I began to see every one of her little arm movements, her blushing, her frustrated foot tapping, as windows into her funny way of just being herself. I think I had a hard time controlling my laughter because I enjoyed seeing so intimately into someone's character. I don't know if this is quite what Bishop Segrist is talking about when he mentions the 'experience of things as ever new and ever renewed in God's ever-beginning creation', but it seems like a tiny flash of that kind of seeing.

Cleaning Rules!

(1) Don't clean out of guilt, clean out of love.
When you clean out of guilt, you are not actually cleaning, you are trying to get rid of guilt. Acknowledge the dirtiness and go pray instead. The easiest way to clean out of love is to clean with a friend. You will never appreciate them more than when they save you from doing all of the toilets. If you don't have a friend to clean with you, then it is harder to keep moving in a spirit of joy. In that case try to remember that God is working with you.

(2) The point is not to get the house clean, it is to remove the dirt.
No house can ever be absolutely clean, but one will always be able to remove dirt, so it is more encouraging to think this way. Focus on the job at hand: if you can forget that you still have a lot to do, it is actually peaceful to watch the little improvements you are making. But don't get lost in the little stuff. You also have to keep moving, because:

(3) The faster you can clean, the more fun it is.
My best days are when the coffee, and my state of mind combine to make me fast but at peace. The worst days are when I just can't stop thinking about something and I find myself pacing around with a rag in my hand mumbling to an empty house. Working is what snaps you out of it, but it is slow, frustrating work until you can focus more on the job at hand. The radio can help or hurt you here. It is usually a help for me because it distracts me from my thoughts. If the songs are too good, though, you end up dancing and singing instead of cleaning. At least, I do. Luckily, radio stations play a lot of bad music and have a lot of commercials. Listening to a CD that you really like is not a good idea.

(4) All you need for cleaning solutions is water and Bon Ami.
I am not in the bacteria killing business. Don't tell my clients but, unless they tell me otherwise, I just use plain old water for the mirrors, counters and floors. Windex is the cause of the streaks! Spray mirrors lightly, use a dry rag and make sure to get the mirror completely dry. You will never worry about streaks again. Bon Ami cleanser is helpful for the showers and sinks, and it doesn't have any bleach or crazy chemicals in it. Sometimes I like using a little bit of vinegar on floors and counters because I like the smell, but I doubt it helps much. If something like a stove top, or a microwave, is really greasy I just rub a dry cloth on it for a while and it picks it right up.

(5) Get an expensive feather duster.
Nothing makes you look more like a sissy, but nothing picks up knick-knack dust faster, or in a funner way, than an ostrich-feather feather duster. They are around twenty bucks at Jeff Campbell's clean team website.

(6) Pumice stone is magic.
If you have rust stains or some other tough stain on your toilet or bathtub a pumice stick is like this magical rock that removes everything without scratching anything. Just get it wet and start grinding. It feels like you're damaging stuff, but I have never seen it make a scratch. It's really good for mineral deposits on tile.

(7) Have a ton of clean dry lint-free non-disposable cloths. Don't be afraid of using too many.
Once again, go to Jeff Campbell's for some good cloths. Buy more than you need, they will disappear fast if your house is anything like mine. If you feel like one is too dirty or wet, just chuck it on the floor and get a dry one. It will save you from streaks. No paper towels: trees shouldn't have to give their lives for motes of dust.

(8) Sweeping is a mystery.

How many piles of dirt should I make? How do I know when I'm done sweeping? Did I already sweep that part? Just accept the mystery, do your best and move on.

(9) Hands and knees.
There's no better way to clean a floor and feel penitent at the same time. Get one cloth wet and have a bunch of dry ones at hand. Wax on, wax off, and keep moving.

(10) If cleaning isn't peaceful or fun, just forget about it.
Enough said!

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

The Romance of Elevators!!

This song is good because it makes elevators seem romantic. This effect is absolutely destroyed by this video.

Listen!

I just read a beautiful little essay by Brenda Ueland about listening. Her advice is easy to understand, so here it is:

Sometimes say to yourself, "Now. What is happening now? This friend is talking. I am quiet. There is endless time. I hear it, every word." Then suddenly you begin to hear not only what people are saying, but what they are trying to say, and you sense the whole truth about them. And you sense existence, not piecemeal, not this object and that, but as a translucent whole.

Then watch your self assertiveness. And give it up. Try not to drink too many cocktails to give up that nervous pressure that feels like energy and wit but may be neither. And remember it is not enough just to will to listen to people. One must really listen. Only then does the magic begin.

Here is the link to the rest of this short essay:
http://www.ctahr.hawaii.edu/ctahr2001/rrii/downloads/Tell_Me_More_Euland.pdf

I'm Not Talkin' Bout Movin' In!

Great hair, great tune.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Why Indeed!

Why?

Because my life was empty.
But you could have filled it with a thousand other things.
None of them would have fit.
But she doesn’t fit.
Exactly.
What!?
I don’t know. Have you read the blog?
Some of it.
Sorry about that.

Yeah, yeah. So, why?
Because she was the best I’d seen.
Have you seen Kate Winslet?
I’m over her.
Yeah, me too.
Although, if she called, I wouldn’t let the machine get it.
Me neither. So, why?

Shall I paint a picture?
Please do.
A man finds a rock in his shoe. He wasn’t looking for it, it wasn’t bothering him. He just took his shoe off and a rock fell out. He put the rock back in his shoe and started dancing.
Is this a haiku?
It’s too long for a haiku.
Well, yeah, but coming from you….
Shut-up. Anyway, the rock is still there.
So take it out.
I don’t want to.
Yeah, but why?
I like rocking.
That doesn’t make sense.
Exactly.

You need to take yourself more seriously.
Shall I buy a tie?
It might help. So, why?

Isn’t this getting tiring to you?
Yes, but I’m your friend.
Well, I guess the why is because I’ve always loved her.
Uh-huh.
I’m taking myself seriously right now.
Okay, okay sorry. I’ll get serious too. If you have always loved her, then why did you have all those other girlfriends?
Because I needed a lot of women to equal her. They never did.
You’re a scoundrel.
Nevertheless.
So all these other women: they didn’t look like her.
My first love looked like her. She didn’t want me either.
If I was a psychologist…
We wouldn’t be friends.
True enough.
So I liked brown haired women after that.
So why did you love the first girl?
Now we’re getting somewhere. Because I didn’t like school. I thought it was boring.
But, see, women are not there to make life more exciting. They are the help-meets.
What is a help-meet?
I think they do a lot of dishes.
Sexist!
Nevertheless.
Well, she would do a lot of dishes if she lived with me.
But that’s because you would be busy doing dumb stuff.
Like what?
Writing long dialogues.

In Praise of Strength!

Steel girders riding up, pushing up, into the cloud.
The workman goes up, the workman goes down.
His lunch-pail is steel with a banana and a sandwich.
His heart is bleeding from being alone in the air.
He looks out over cars driving, with a head of steel.
He calls down to the people, but no one can hear him.
He laughs with his friends.
At night his wife wakes him up to talk about money.
In the morning he walks to the subway and gives his toast to dogs.
He drinks too much with his friends on the weekends.
He has a girl on the side.
There are too many men like this, and it is all our fault.
Not that we could fix this, if we had all the power in the world.
We would make the same evil choices, if we had it to do over.
We want the freeways, and the advertisements, the crushed workman,
The dreary cubicles.
We really don’t like nature all that much.
We step on bugs.

His wife is not much worse, not much better.
She is not a good cook, but she is a mother at heart:
Looking down when the neighbors pass by with a stroller.
She kept her accent, to use with the shop clerks.
She kept her laugh from her nights on the town with her first love.
She opens cans with her mother’s can opener. She likes the red handles.
These hearts keep beating, and they won’t be done until everyone else is.
They know it’s all a joke, its all for nothing, but they keep doing.
She will have a baby, it will do for a while.
She will have it christened, and worry about college.
He will give up his girl on the side, out of guilt when the kid is born.
And they will become better, with laugh lines around their eyes.
Knowing looks will be the food of their marriage.
It will be years before any fruit comes of all this sacrifice,
But it will be real fruit, and no-one will take it from them.

And then there’s the spiritual life, which is no different from the religious one,
At least not for the lucky people.
Catholics, and they care about it, but what does the church do for them?
It works in quiet too, like their marriage, through their marriage.
I forgot that they were married in the church, she was a virgin.
God works through their weakness.
They don’t enjoy their life, not in the day-to-day, but their life fills with joy:
Like a blush fills a shy face.

These people are no different from any of us.
The college kids who are worried about pleasing their parents, or about getting a pretty wife.
The writer struggling to get something going for God knows why.
We are trying, aren’t we?
This world is mad: we are all on the hunt for what God wants to give us.
We sniff it out, though it is plain before our eyes.
This moment, right here, holds all.
But, we will never see this.
We just have got to keep on plugging.

Back in Business!

Close call there! My computer froze earlier. Luckily Ben called right after it happened and we got a beer or two: saved me from needless anxiety.

The Joker - Steve Miller Band

I wish I was cool enough to be a midnight toker! Hot video!

If You Thought Your Head Was Spinning Before...!

Sophia, The Wisdom of God, is a word coming into rather common use now, but its meaning is not always clear. I asked a friend who has translated many writers from the renaissance of Russian philosophy…the Russian Sophiologists if you will: “What is Sophia?"

“Sophia is what all men seek,” he replied,…and then after some thought… “Sophia is the blue sky, the azure of it, though usually the sky is gray or even somehow we live as if we prefer the gray sky.”

So the young Vladimir Soloviev on a truly gray day when he had been rebuffed by his first sweetheart, suddenly finds all his conciousness suffused with blue, the azure of the sky, and within that aetheric blue he sees or feels that ‘eternal womanhood’ is, unlike its particular local representative, holding out a flower to him. And the German romantic who called himself Novalis has a character of his dream of a blue flower in which he sees the face of his beloved whom he may meet but has not yet.

On the face of it there is a rather long road from the Wisdom books of the Old Testament to this romantic vision, and yet it may be a road worth traversing if indeed the one leads to the other. It seems that it can be worth traveling both ways in that case, for perhaps many who speak of Sophia now have not made the journey back to the ground of Divine Wisdom, and it may be that there are theologians who have not often looked to the sky or to the blue among flowers.

-Ripped off from pg. 77 of Theology of Wonder by Bishop Seraphim Sigrist (ellipses indicative of my omissions)

I have no knack for theology. I often look to the sky, but do not like blue flowers. I like white flowers; specifically: the daisy. Of course, the gold and white daisy goes well with the afternoon blue. I am one of those who speaks of Sophia without having made the journey back to the ground of Divine Wisdom. I have, like Soloviev, a sensitivity to the spiritual worth of jilted romantic love. So much so, that I seek out women who are more likely than not too good for me, though this means I spend most of life pining. I do not compromise when it comes to love. My brother thinks that I will lose this aspect of my character if I am lucky. This may be true, but the above passage suggests that one who is learning to worship God need not seek to lose this, but can try to channel it into his worship.

My favorite idol is woman: beautiful in body and soul. How does God destroy my idol? Like He always does: by becoming small enough to enter into it. If I desire to be conquered by a woman God conquers me through this woman by making her a window to the beauty of eternal womanhood. How does this work? Hang on for dear life, I have to talk about Rod Stewart now.

I was listening to a Rod Stewart classic today (my mom never tires of saying that Rod is a ‘serial monogamist’)

Have I told you lately that I love you?
Have I told you there’s no-one else above you?
You fill my heart with gladness,
Take away all my sadness,
You ease my troubles that’s what you do.

Good old Rod seems to be getting a little carried away here. On the one hand his lover “takes away all [his] sadness” on the other she “eases [his] troubles”. These are not the same sort of thing. When all of our sadness is gone, we have forgotten the cross. That is how I respond to women: I let them fill me with an ungodly joy that leads me away from religion. I feel, when I am in this state, that “there’s no-one else above” her, not even God. That last line about easing his troubles feels like a little bit of unhelpful guilt popping in, a kind of correction aimed at appeasing God: “No, what I mean to say is, you ease my troubles. Yeah, that’s it, that’s what you do.” Later in the song, Rod makes an appeal that they turn to prayer together.

There’s a love that’s divine.
And it’s yours and it’s mine, like the sun.
And at the end of the day
We should give thanks and pray
To the One, to the One.

I agree Rod, we should pray, but not because the divine love belongs to us, but because it belongs to God. And isn’t it strange that he talks about the sun belonging to them? But that is an accurate description of what God forgetting joy feels like: the sun itself is burning inside of me.

What Rod and I need is a good dose of Sophia via rejection, which is what is being talked about in the above quote from Bishop Seraphim’s book. Rod’s and my theology is more akin to a making, a poeticizing, of our beloved, than it is a receiving of the truth handed down from heaven. Mercy comes to us primarily in the form of an “unlucky” love life, which is really a blessing in disguise. We are knocked back on our feet by our heaven-storming love, our attempts to capture the sun. As we fall back to earth like Icarus, we have a little time to think about what we did wrong. That is as close as I usually get to theology. One fine day Rod and I may stop storming heaven and just fly around on the breeze like birds.