Meditations on Mud (Caves)
Meditation 1: This is actually an entry from my journal while on the trip. It's better with the random little drawing that goes with it, and the formatting is as close to the original as I could get it. Anyway....
into the deep dark of the caves
away from the sun from warmth from life
twisting body bent by the contortions ofthe
cave eating dust and drinking dark
choking on both of them
the occasional glimpse of light
envying those who walk
forever under the sky
and never in the dark
feet trip and slip
dislodged by the same
dust that grinds
between your teeth
weeping but tears
turn into mud
not the mud
that restored
the sight of
the blind but
the mud that
hardens and
imprisons the
mud that is
the cave echoes
scatter bouncing
into nothingness
you begin to forget
the sky and the
sun in the long dark
but wait
to eyes accustomed to shadow the faint light is unbearable will
you turn away into the familiar dark no you decide even if the sun
burns me to ash and the sky press down on me with the weight
of the world i will seek the light scrambling upward hands scraping
through dust and stones you suddenly find your outstretched hand
grasped and pulled up into the light we were watching you they say
you look down and see the ground full of holes beneath you
kneeling down you peer into one and in the gloom you see
another struggling its alright you yell we're here waiting for
you you stand up in the sunlight the dust of the cave still on
your shoulders and look out across the valley the dust shines like
alabaster and the scattered stones gleam like diamonds in the light.
Meditation 2
I admit, I'm prone to seeing life in terms of metaphor. Or, at any rate, expanding random everyday occurances into views on life.
This being the case, here's one thought from the trip.
Fr. David lead the trip, and since he was the only one who'd been to the mud caves, we relied on his guidance. (I'm sure you can see where the metaphor is going already)
But there were two moments that really stood out to me:
The first was in the caves themselves: I had only a candle for light, which was great, but occasionally didn't give quite enough light. So Fr. David was quite often stopping and shining a light in my path to keep me from tripping (I'll let you draw the obvious metaphor)
The other time was outside the caves, when we were all scrambling down the sides of the hills. I slipped on the loose rocks and sand, and almost slid down (it wouldn't have been a bad fall-just a few feet-but still uncomfortable). Fr. David planted his foot right under mine and kept me from slipping.
By now you've figured out the thoughts running through my mind: this is part of the ministry of priests, to shine light into the darkness, and to help those who are slipping into sin. Again, obvious. But a cool image of it, nonetheless.
Meditation 3. Fire on the Mountain
Being in the desert tends to make one think of the imagery and story of the Exodus and the wandering in the wilderness. I love the deserts and high plains; their beauty is subtle, fierce, and wild. The Anza-Borrego was no different, nor was the arroyo in which we were camping. We saw the hills and sand first by moonlight; the hills looked cold and raw, like mountains on some distant planet. The moon shone so brightly it cast shadows on the ground. And God was in the night.
In the warm morning sunlight, the hills looked hot and dusty, as millions of days under the glare of the sun turned everything to fine sand. The scraggly bushes poked forth leaves in varying degrees of verdancy, and God was in the day.
There was no guiding cloud, no pillar of fire by night. But God burned in every leaf on the bush and on the peak of every hill.
Wednesday, January 31
Monday, January 29
The Trip
I've been curious about the Mud Caves of the Anza-Borrego Desert for years, but never been there. I started to get really excited the closer we got; I love the high plains and the desert--they have this wild, subtle beauty that takes practice to see.
We got there late, after dark, but the moonlight was so bright we could walk around without difficulty. In fact, I'm glad I saw the hills by moonlight first: it looked like the surface of a distant planet, with ragged hills and stardust spilling down the little valleys. (it was used as the setting for part of the planet Mars in the Starman series; one of the authors was our guide on the trip)
We set up camp and decided to visit one cave before it got too late. We walked a few yards down the road to Plunge Pool, and entered the cave. There weren't enough flashlights to go around, so I got to use a candle instead. Which is great, because I like candles better; I love the dancing flames and the warm light. The cave winds for a few narrow yards before widening out into a cavern, with a skylight 30 feet up. At night, it was completely dark; we put out all our lights, and talked in the dark for a long time. Then we lit our lights, and went back to camp.
We cooked dinner (hot dogs!!) and I discovered that you can, in fact, roast a strawberry over a campfire: it's very good, though you have to be careful, since the fruit gets VERY hot. Fr. David had brought some square handmade peppermint marshmallows, and we toasted a few of those, too. Brian entertained us all by telling a story, enjoying our laughter before realizing that we were laughing more at the charcoal he'd inadvertently rubbed all over his face than at the story. Fr. David brought out The Mad Scientists' Club ---a book that has long been a favorite of mine--and read "The Voice in the Chimney". By the time the story was over, we were all stamping our feet trying to warm up, and shivering.
Everyone froze during the night, except maybe Ashley, who said she was warm. That day was spent clambering around the caves, getting covered in dust, sand, and various scrapes. More on this part in the meditations post. I had enormous amounts of fun finding bits of mica in the rocks and dust on top of the caves, and exploring the great textures left in the mud.
We went back to camp and ate lunch (hot dog sandwiches! A coyote or something had made off with our hot dog buns in the night) then headed out to a few more caves. Brian scared us all by attempting to climb down a cliff wall to another cave opening, but gave up when he saw that it was just too dangerous.
In another cave, we came up into the light in a small hollow. We all sat down to rest, and Ashley and I lay down on a rock, propped our feet up on the far wall, and looked up at the darkening sky. The moon was up, and a jet soared by overhead, leaving a pink trail behind it. We headed back down, and walked back to camp; dinner was chili, with onions and sourdough bread. Fr. David read us "The Strange Sea Monster of Strawberry Lake," my favorite of the m ad Scientists Club stories.
The moon was bright and clear again, and we did some climbing that night by its light on the nearby hills. Ashley and I sat ourselves on top of the hill that overlooked the campsite, and lay on our backs to look at the moon; we even saw a shooting star! I think two bats flew overhead, too.
We all slept warmer that night, and slept well. I woke up briefly in the middle of the night, after the moon had set; the starlight was bright enough to see by! Not as well as the moonlight, but enough.
We got up that morning; I did some drawing and writing, several of the others went for walks. Brian finished up the last chapter of the first Starman book. We packed up camp and headed up to Ghost Mountain, home to writer Marshall South in the 1930's. It's a mile-long trek uphill to get to the ruins of the adobe house, but well worth it. We had Mass in the middle of the ruins, and then headed back down the hill, and headed back towards home. I, unfortunately, got rather carsick, and didn't fell at all well. When we stopped for lunch (my first meal of the day, at 3 pm!) at the Wynola Pizza Express, I could hardly choke down three pieces of my mushroom pizza (which was sad, because it was excellent pizza; I highly recommend the restaurant!) When we got back in the car, Ashley suggested that we read the Gospel of John on the way home: Erin and I took turns reading, while Ashley drove. Due to a bit of a jam on the 91, we actually got to finish the whole book! We dropped Erin off, and drove back to the church, loaded my stuff into my car, and the trip was over!
I've been curious about the Mud Caves of the Anza-Borrego Desert for years, but never been there. I started to get really excited the closer we got; I love the high plains and the desert--they have this wild, subtle beauty that takes practice to see.
We got there late, after dark, but the moonlight was so bright we could walk around without difficulty. In fact, I'm glad I saw the hills by moonlight first: it looked like the surface of a distant planet, with ragged hills and stardust spilling down the little valleys. (it was used as the setting for part of the planet Mars in the Starman series; one of the authors was our guide on the trip)
We set up camp and decided to visit one cave before it got too late. We walked a few yards down the road to Plunge Pool, and entered the cave. There weren't enough flashlights to go around, so I got to use a candle instead. Which is great, because I like candles better; I love the dancing flames and the warm light. The cave winds for a few narrow yards before widening out into a cavern, with a skylight 30 feet up. At night, it was completely dark; we put out all our lights, and talked in the dark for a long time. Then we lit our lights, and went back to camp.
We cooked dinner (hot dogs!!) and I discovered that you can, in fact, roast a strawberry over a campfire: it's very good, though you have to be careful, since the fruit gets VERY hot. Fr. David had brought some square handmade peppermint marshmallows, and we toasted a few of those, too. Brian entertained us all by telling a story, enjoying our laughter before realizing that we were laughing more at the charcoal he'd inadvertently rubbed all over his face than at the story. Fr. David brought out The Mad Scientists' Club ---a book that has long been a favorite of mine--and read "The Voice in the Chimney". By the time the story was over, we were all stamping our feet trying to warm up, and shivering.
Everyone froze during the night, except maybe Ashley, who said she was warm. That day was spent clambering around the caves, getting covered in dust, sand, and various scrapes. More on this part in the meditations post. I had enormous amounts of fun finding bits of mica in the rocks and dust on top of the caves, and exploring the great textures left in the mud.
We went back to camp and ate lunch (hot dog sandwiches! A coyote or something had made off with our hot dog buns in the night) then headed out to a few more caves. Brian scared us all by attempting to climb down a cliff wall to another cave opening, but gave up when he saw that it was just too dangerous.
In another cave, we came up into the light in a small hollow. We all sat down to rest, and Ashley and I lay down on a rock, propped our feet up on the far wall, and looked up at the darkening sky. The moon was up, and a jet soared by overhead, leaving a pink trail behind it. We headed back down, and walked back to camp; dinner was chili, with onions and sourdough bread. Fr. David read us "The Strange Sea Monster of Strawberry Lake," my favorite of the m ad Scientists Club stories.
The moon was bright and clear again, and we did some climbing that night by its light on the nearby hills. Ashley and I sat ourselves on top of the hill that overlooked the campsite, and lay on our backs to look at the moon; we even saw a shooting star! I think two bats flew overhead, too.
We all slept warmer that night, and slept well. I woke up briefly in the middle of the night, after the moon had set; the starlight was bright enough to see by! Not as well as the moonlight, but enough.
We got up that morning; I did some drawing and writing, several of the others went for walks. Brian finished up the last chapter of the first Starman book. We packed up camp and headed up to Ghost Mountain, home to writer Marshall South in the 1930's. It's a mile-long trek uphill to get to the ruins of the adobe house, but well worth it. We had Mass in the middle of the ruins, and then headed back down the hill, and headed back towards home. I, unfortunately, got rather carsick, and didn't fell at all well. When we stopped for lunch (my first meal of the day, at 3 pm!) at the Wynola Pizza Express, I could hardly choke down three pieces of my mushroom pizza (which was sad, because it was excellent pizza; I highly recommend the restaurant!) When we got back in the car, Ashley suggested that we read the Gospel of John on the way home: Erin and I took turns reading, while Ashley drove. Due to a bit of a jam on the 91, we actually got to finish the whole book! We dropped Erin off, and drove back to the church, loaded my stuff into my car, and the trip was over!
Tuesday, January 23
Prayer needed
Hey all, I could really use your prayers right now. Due largely to sleeping on really bad mattresses of late (amongst other things), my back hurts very badly most of the time. It started off with just the occasional pain in the lower right back, but now it's spread to the whole of my lower back and upper legs. It's almost constant pain anytime I'm standing, and anytime I switch positions. Fortunately, I sit down for most of the day at work, but it's definately getting worse. Please pray that I can afford to see a doctor soon, and that I deal with the pain well (instead of being grouchy, which is what I do most of the time. Sigh.)
Hey all, I could really use your prayers right now. Due largely to sleeping on really bad mattresses of late (amongst other things), my back hurts very badly most of the time. It started off with just the occasional pain in the lower right back, but now it's spread to the whole of my lower back and upper legs. It's almost constant pain anytime I'm standing, and anytime I switch positions. Fortunately, I sit down for most of the day at work, but it's definately getting worse. Please pray that I can afford to see a doctor soon, and that I deal with the pain well (instead of being grouchy, which is what I do most of the time. Sigh.)
Sunday, January 21
Love Story
You ever watch those great movies or wonderful old stories? You know, the kind where the great prince is serving as a gardener in the princess' palace, or as a stableboy, or an accountant, or something, and you know the two of them just have to get together, but the princess can't see the true worth of the guy trimming the verge?
I love those stories. They're so....well, so true.
Archetypally, at any rate.
Think about it: we're all living this fairy tale. The soul (which I shall refer to in the feminine case, as that's traditional and works better for the analogy) is a princess, living her life, concerned with all the things of the world. But in the garden, a prince waits: dressed in humble garb, with quiet honesty and integrity. Will she notice Him? Will she cease being drawn into the petty intrigue of the court, and give herself to the Prince, before it's too late?
This is a story that the angels themselves watch with bated breath. The Prince of Peace, king of the cosmos, becomes man, and sets aside His glory. He woos the soul, never by force or showy glamour, but with a fiery love and passion. Will she notice? Will she stop being drawn aside into other affections? Will she stop toying with Him, and finally be His? Or will she spurn Him, and chase after the wind?
"O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above."
You ever watch those great movies or wonderful old stories? You know, the kind where the great prince is serving as a gardener in the princess' palace, or as a stableboy, or an accountant, or something, and you know the two of them just have to get together, but the princess can't see the true worth of the guy trimming the verge?
I love those stories. They're so....well, so true.
Archetypally, at any rate.
Think about it: we're all living this fairy tale. The soul (which I shall refer to in the feminine case, as that's traditional and works better for the analogy) is a princess, living her life, concerned with all the things of the world. But in the garden, a prince waits: dressed in humble garb, with quiet honesty and integrity. Will she notice Him? Will she cease being drawn into the petty intrigue of the court, and give herself to the Prince, before it's too late?
This is a story that the angels themselves watch with bated breath. The Prince of Peace, king of the cosmos, becomes man, and sets aside His glory. He woos the soul, never by force or showy glamour, but with a fiery love and passion. Will she notice? Will she stop being drawn aside into other affections? Will she stop toying with Him, and finally be His? Or will she spurn Him, and chase after the wind?
"O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above."
Thursday, January 18
Monday, January 15
8 Simple rules for watching a movie in a shared living room:
1. DO NOT walk in on the movie halfway through, and continually ask the person watching it to tell you what's going on. JUST WATCH THE FREAKIN' FILM! The person will not mind if you do so, at least not as much as she minds constantly pausing to explain. This goes doubly so if the person watching the movie has never seen said movie before.
2. DO NOT constantly ask what's going on when you've been watching the movie from the beginning. More than likely, the film itself will answer your questions--that's kind of the point. If you don't understand after it's over, then you can ask questions. If you just want a few sentence summary of the film, go read IMDB.
3. DO NOT constantly come through the room, talking loudly or making a lot of noise. The person watching the movie wants to be able to hear it. If you find that they are continually turning the volume up, you are being too loud. (NOTE: This only applies if the person watching the film was there first. If the person talking was there first, the movie-watcher is being rude and gets what she deserves.)
4. DO NOT mock the movie if you notice that the person watching it appears moved by the story.
5. DO NOT talk about bad effects on classic movies. Nobody cares. All past effects are bad by the most recent standards. The Red-Sea-peeling-back on The Ten Commandments is still cool, regardless of looking a little funny.
6. DO NOT mock the acting style in classic movies. A different acting style was in vogue at the time; they would have considered today's actors terrible. Just get in the mindset of the time. It's not that hard.
7. FOREIGN FILMS AND ART FILMS are just weird. Do not ask the person attempting to watch them to explain it. Even if they like it, they won't be able to explain why. If you don't get it, just accept it, and be quiet.
8. IF you don't like the movie, just leave. Don't mock it, complain about it, or try to drown it out. Go read a book. (Again, only applies when the movie-watcher was there first)
1. DO NOT walk in on the movie halfway through, and continually ask the person watching it to tell you what's going on. JUST WATCH THE FREAKIN' FILM! The person will not mind if you do so, at least not as much as she minds constantly pausing to explain. This goes doubly so if the person watching the movie has never seen said movie before.
2. DO NOT constantly ask what's going on when you've been watching the movie from the beginning. More than likely, the film itself will answer your questions--that's kind of the point. If you don't understand after it's over, then you can ask questions. If you just want a few sentence summary of the film, go read IMDB.
3. DO NOT constantly come through the room, talking loudly or making a lot of noise. The person watching the movie wants to be able to hear it. If you find that they are continually turning the volume up, you are being too loud. (NOTE: This only applies if the person watching the film was there first. If the person talking was there first, the movie-watcher is being rude and gets what she deserves.)
4. DO NOT mock the movie if you notice that the person watching it appears moved by the story.
5. DO NOT talk about bad effects on classic movies. Nobody cares. All past effects are bad by the most recent standards. The Red-Sea-peeling-back on The Ten Commandments is still cool, regardless of looking a little funny.
6. DO NOT mock the acting style in classic movies. A different acting style was in vogue at the time; they would have considered today's actors terrible. Just get in the mindset of the time. It's not that hard.
7. FOREIGN FILMS AND ART FILMS are just weird. Do not ask the person attempting to watch them to explain it. Even if they like it, they won't be able to explain why. If you don't get it, just accept it, and be quiet.
8. IF you don't like the movie, just leave. Don't mock it, complain about it, or try to drown it out. Go read a book. (Again, only applies when the movie-watcher was there first)
Thursday, January 11
Entering the Labyrinth
I just went to see Pan's Labyrinth with two of my best friends. Pan's Labyrinth is a foreign film, all the dialogue is in Castillian Spanish (lovely langauge!), and it is a combination war story/fantasy film.
I'm still processing this movie. It's been compared, in terms of emotional impact and brutality, to Schindler's List, and the comparison is not unwarranted. It's not quite so much so as SL, but close enough.
The requirements for watching this film are:
1. A strong stomach. If you can watch Schindler's List, you'll be fine. If you can't handle Schindler's List, watch Pan's Labyrinth at your own risk.
2. An appreciation for good fantasy (MacDonald, Gaiman, etc)
3. A willingness to believe in fairies.
Most reviews of the film spin it as a young girl in war-torn Spain who creates her own fantasy world to escape to. That's a valid interpretation of the film, up to a point; the first half of the movie is unclear about whether or not these fantastic things that Ofelia experiences are real or the product of her active imagination. But at a certain point (the mandrake root screaming) it becomes clear that there is at least a real connection between the two worlds. From that point on, the physical events become harder to explain if Ofelia's world is not real.
It seemed to me that the film had several strong themes: courage, parents and children, humility, and sacrifice. Sometimes the themes ran seperately, but they often seemed to come together into a larger theme (meta-theme?). Specifically, one of the themes seemed to be the courage necessary to willing undergo the humility and sacrifices of being a parent. (All credit on these thoughts go to Rachel Motte, who brought them up. Rachel, blog about the movie soon, I want to hear more!) The viewer is shown a mother without the courage to go through loneliness for her daughter's sake, a son who cannot bear to hear any mention of his father--a man who could die well, and a daughter who will give up everything for her baby brother.
The tagline for the film sums it up the best: "Innocence has a power that Evil cannot imagine." Pan's Labyrinth allows evil to do its worst, and doesn't pull any punches. But it also shows the efficacy of innocence, and leaves the viewer amazed at the power released by sacrifice.
I just went to see Pan's Labyrinth with two of my best friends. Pan's Labyrinth is a foreign film, all the dialogue is in Castillian Spanish (lovely langauge!), and it is a combination war story/fantasy film.
I'm still processing this movie. It's been compared, in terms of emotional impact and brutality, to Schindler's List, and the comparison is not unwarranted. It's not quite so much so as SL, but close enough.
The requirements for watching this film are:
1. A strong stomach. If you can watch Schindler's List, you'll be fine. If you can't handle Schindler's List, watch Pan's Labyrinth at your own risk.
2. An appreciation for good fantasy (MacDonald, Gaiman, etc)
3. A willingness to believe in fairies.
Most reviews of the film spin it as a young girl in war-torn Spain who creates her own fantasy world to escape to. That's a valid interpretation of the film, up to a point; the first half of the movie is unclear about whether or not these fantastic things that Ofelia experiences are real or the product of her active imagination. But at a certain point (the mandrake root screaming) it becomes clear that there is at least a real connection between the two worlds. From that point on, the physical events become harder to explain if Ofelia's world is not real.
It seemed to me that the film had several strong themes: courage, parents and children, humility, and sacrifice. Sometimes the themes ran seperately, but they often seemed to come together into a larger theme (meta-theme?). Specifically, one of the themes seemed to be the courage necessary to willing undergo the humility and sacrifices of being a parent. (All credit on these thoughts go to Rachel Motte, who brought them up. Rachel, blog about the movie soon, I want to hear more!) The viewer is shown a mother without the courage to go through loneliness for her daughter's sake, a son who cannot bear to hear any mention of his father--a man who could die well, and a daughter who will give up everything for her baby brother.
The tagline for the film sums it up the best: "Innocence has a power that Evil cannot imagine." Pan's Labyrinth allows evil to do its worst, and doesn't pull any punches. But it also shows the efficacy of innocence, and leaves the viewer amazed at the power released by sacrifice.
Friday, January 5
This could become a new favorite website.... http://www.etiquettegrrls.com/pages/home.html
If you like Go Fug Yourself, you'll like The Etiquette Grrrls.
If you like Go Fug Yourself, you'll like The Etiquette Grrrls.
Tuesday, January 2
Thoughts on Ecclesiastes:
"3: 9. What gain has the worker from his toil?
10: I have seen the business that God has given to the sons of men to be busy with.
11: He has made everything beautiful in its time; also he has put eternity into man's mind, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.
12: I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live;
13: also that it is God's gift to man that every one should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil.
14: I know that whatever God does endures for ever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; God has made it so, in order that men should fear before him."
10: I have seen the business that God has given to the sons of men to be busy with.
11: He has made everything beautiful in its time; also he has put eternity into man's mind, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.
12: I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live;
13: also that it is God's gift to man that every one should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil.
14: I know that whatever God does endures for ever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; God has made it so, in order that men should fear before him."
I used to read this passage with great confusion.Verse 12 does not seem like what you expect to find in the Bible. And hasn't the Teacher just stated that pursuing pleasure is folly?
And then today I realized something: the Teacher is right. Because pursuing pleasure does not bring happiness, nor, in the end, even pleasure. What does make men happy? Walking with God, doing justice, making an honest living, and loving those around them. Man is not happy without God. Man is not happy without work.
There really is a time for everything. A time to work, and a time to rest. A time for fasting, and a time for feasting. We go from one to the other, spring turning to summer, then to fall, and winter, and then back again. Advent becoming Epiphany, then moving to Lent, Easter, Pentecost, and back again. We laugh, cry, rejoice, sigh, rage, and fear. And it is good. Human life, in its smallness and ordinariness, is good. It can be holy, if we so wish. It is mundane, of the earth, and like the earth, it is immense and grand as the ocean, and as small and humble as a grain of sand.
And it's ok that nothing makes sense, or really holds together. Nothing we do or see ever will. And that's alright. That's the way things are (though not how they were meant to be.) We can grieve for what was, what should have been, and give thanks that God did not leave us to it, and that His works are eternal, and He will preserve what is to be perserved.
The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away: blessed be the name of the Lord.
Thursday, December 28
How Can I Keep From Singing?
Sorry for taking so long to blog again, everybody, things have been crazy.
Lately I've been reading Dr. Reynolds' Christmas blog posts; you can read the latest one here.
I get pretty discouraged sometimes. I feel like I'm made almost no progress in shaping my soul. I still have a hard time saving money, eating right, excercizing, and I still have largely terrible taste in music.
But then I look back to myself in high school, and I realize that I have changed. I'm no longer so angry, or so arrogant. I still struggle greatly with despair, and probably always will, but I now have courage to fight that battle and face that despair.
My tastes in music have definately improved: I can watch opera (still can't listen without the staged visuals) and enjoy it, I like the groups Anonymous 4 and Sequentia, and I love Pachelbel's Canon in D(in fact, that peice is a powerful weapon against despair; its order, structure, and simple melody can snap me out of depression.) I even like a little ballet.
I don't really know what any of this means. Sometimes I think the hardest thing about life is that you just have to go out there every day, and do the same thing. You have to do your duty every day, make the right choices everyday, and be an adult everyday.
The temptation to shirk all that is inescapable at times. You just want to make one bad choice, let one duty slide, act childish for a few hours. We're rarely, if ever, allowed to see how those good choices impact our lives, and the lives of those around us. It seems like life just going along like usual. But when we make the wrong choices, we see how important the right ones were.
C.S. Lewis said "No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good. A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting against it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in. We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it: and Christ, because he was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation means--the only complete realist."
It never feels like a glorious battle. Only a long trudge, fighting against enemies we can't see, and often fighting our own selves.
Yet.....
There is a joy in it all. A song can live in the most downtrodden heart, and all the slings and arrows of fortune cannot take it away.
"My life goes on in endless song
Above earths lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation."
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear its music ringing,
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing? "
While though the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth, it liveth.
And though the darkness round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth."
No storm can shake my inmost calm,
While to that rock Im clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing? "
When tyrants tremble in their fear
And hear their death knell ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near
How can I keep from singing? "
In prison cell and dungeon vile
Our thoughts to them are winging,
When friends by shame are undefiled
How can I keep from singing?"
Sorry for taking so long to blog again, everybody, things have been crazy.
Lately I've been reading Dr. Reynolds' Christmas blog posts; you can read the latest one here.
I get pretty discouraged sometimes. I feel like I'm made almost no progress in shaping my soul. I still have a hard time saving money, eating right, excercizing, and I still have largely terrible taste in music.
But then I look back to myself in high school, and I realize that I have changed. I'm no longer so angry, or so arrogant. I still struggle greatly with despair, and probably always will, but I now have courage to fight that battle and face that despair.
My tastes in music have definately improved: I can watch opera (still can't listen without the staged visuals) and enjoy it, I like the groups Anonymous 4 and Sequentia, and I love Pachelbel's Canon in D(in fact, that peice is a powerful weapon against despair; its order, structure, and simple melody can snap me out of depression.) I even like a little ballet.
I don't really know what any of this means. Sometimes I think the hardest thing about life is that you just have to go out there every day, and do the same thing. You have to do your duty every day, make the right choices everyday, and be an adult everyday.
The temptation to shirk all that is inescapable at times. You just want to make one bad choice, let one duty slide, act childish for a few hours. We're rarely, if ever, allowed to see how those good choices impact our lives, and the lives of those around us. It seems like life just going along like usual. But when we make the wrong choices, we see how important the right ones were.
C.S. Lewis said "No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good. A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is. After all, you find out the strength of the German army by fighting against it, not by giving in. You find out the strength of a wind by trying to walk against it, not by lying down. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in. We never find out the strength of the evil impulse inside us until we try to fight it: and Christ, because he was the only man who never yielded to temptation, is also the only man who knows to the full what temptation means--the only complete realist."
It never feels like a glorious battle. Only a long trudge, fighting against enemies we can't see, and often fighting our own selves.
Yet.....
There is a joy in it all. A song can live in the most downtrodden heart, and all the slings and arrows of fortune cannot take it away.
"My life goes on in endless song
Above earths lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation."
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear its music ringing,
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing? "
While though the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth, it liveth.
And though the darkness round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth."
No storm can shake my inmost calm,
While to that rock Im clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing? "
When tyrants tremble in their fear
And hear their death knell ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near
How can I keep from singing? "
In prison cell and dungeon vile
Our thoughts to them are winging,
When friends by shame are undefiled
How can I keep from singing?"
Saturday, December 16
Tuesday, November 21
So...yeah, I haven't posted a while. And I probably won't until the end of November for two reasons:
1. NaNoWriMo. It's November. That means 50,000 words in 30 days.
2. Kidney stones. Which still hurt like all heck. I tried to go to work today, I really did. I made it 3 hours, then had to go home again, and have been sleeping and lounging all day. With Vicodin. Which is lovely stuff, truly.
So, yeah, these combine to make me not want to blog right now. Sorry.
:)
1. NaNoWriMo. It's November. That means 50,000 words in 30 days.
2. Kidney stones. Which still hurt like all heck. I tried to go to work today, I really did. I made it 3 hours, then had to go home again, and have been sleeping and lounging all day. With Vicodin. Which is lovely stuff, truly.
So, yeah, these combine to make me not want to blog right now. Sorry.
:)
Thursday, November 9
Thursday, November 2
Morphus Mystics
The other day, someone made a remark, about how what the mystics say is so "amorphus." I suddenly realized that this was, in fact, entirely not true. What the mystics see and talk about is thouroughly solid and real; it is, to be precise, words that are too amorphus (see C.S. Lewis, Perelandra). It's akin to the argument that monastics are escaping from the real world into seclusion and idealism. The whole thing hinges upon what is truly real. If God is real, then the mystics and monastics are realistic. If God is not real, then Wall Street and Madison Avenue are realistic.
One cleric was known to say that becoming a monk allowed him to be at the center of life, rather than at its periphery. As a cynical and hard-headed individual who has been slowly brought into a more mystical way of thinking, I have come to see that this is very true. If I see God more clearly, then I can see everything around me better. If a cloud is in front of the sun, it's a little harder to see the grass.
The mystics are the people with their heads in the clouds, but their feet are very solidly planted on the ground. Because they are focused on God as the root of all being, they can see all beings more clearly.
In addition, if the mystics really were amorphus, they wouldn't all be saying the same things. But they do. They talk about a God who cares, a love that is so real it burns like fire, and a darkness more comforting than the dawn. The more I see and experience, the more I find that they are right. Their map of life, though the road seems to take strange turns and switchbacks, turns out to be more accurate than the Thomas Guides drawn by businessmen who cannot see anything further away than the physical, and so don't even end up seeing the physical world clearly.
The other day, someone made a remark, about how what the mystics say is so "amorphus." I suddenly realized that this was, in fact, entirely not true. What the mystics see and talk about is thouroughly solid and real; it is, to be precise, words that are too amorphus (see C.S. Lewis, Perelandra). It's akin to the argument that monastics are escaping from the real world into seclusion and idealism. The whole thing hinges upon what is truly real. If God is real, then the mystics and monastics are realistic. If God is not real, then Wall Street and Madison Avenue are realistic.
One cleric was known to say that becoming a monk allowed him to be at the center of life, rather than at its periphery. As a cynical and hard-headed individual who has been slowly brought into a more mystical way of thinking, I have come to see that this is very true. If I see God more clearly, then I can see everything around me better. If a cloud is in front of the sun, it's a little harder to see the grass.
The mystics are the people with their heads in the clouds, but their feet are very solidly planted on the ground. Because they are focused on God as the root of all being, they can see all beings more clearly.
In addition, if the mystics really were amorphus, they wouldn't all be saying the same things. But they do. They talk about a God who cares, a love that is so real it burns like fire, and a darkness more comforting than the dawn. The more I see and experience, the more I find that they are right. Their map of life, though the road seems to take strange turns and switchbacks, turns out to be more accurate than the Thomas Guides drawn by businessmen who cannot see anything further away than the physical, and so don't even end up seeing the physical world clearly.
Wednesday, October 18
It just felt so...right. So timely.
Some of that may have been a circumstance of dates. I first came to this church in October, 2006. I began my infamous 2-year project (the Dante quilt) in October of 2004, and took it to the Diocesan Convention that year...which is when I decided to get confirmed. I finished the quilt and got confirmed in October this year.
So I stood in the church Sunday morning, October 15th, all in white (I'm a sucker for good typeology--it had to be white), and knelt before the bishop. I wish I could remember the prayer he said over me, but I don't. That's ok. I remember the strength of his hands on my head, the warmth of the oil on my brow, the nearness of my church family, the hardness of the stone floor through the cushion I knelt on.
It seems to me that all the sacraments, both major and "minor", are the same thing. They are all marriage, in one form or another. Eucharist, Christ joins us to Himself, and makes us one Body with Him. Baptism, when we are made a part of the Bride of Christ. Holy orders: a union with Christ to the exclusion of human marriage. Last rites: preperation to the union with Christ after death. Marriage: an incarnate icon of God's love for humanity. Ordination: I'm a little fuzzier on the image here, but it seems like it is incarnating the image of the Bridegroom to lead the Bride of Christ forward. And finally, confirmation: an acknowledgement of oneself as a member of the Body of Christ, the Bride of Christ. It is a taking of what was given in baptism, and stepping into it fully.
Yes, being confirmed was wonderful, a beautiful thing. In fact, it felt a little...like a wedding.
Monday, September 4
http://www.xanga.com/k_bubba/521479919/well-im-back.html
A thought: yes, Buffy is often about doing what's right, even when it's difficult (though it must be mentioned that the characters often don't do this).
But what seems to me to be a more interesting aspect is that the characters are engaged in a fight that they will never (in fact, can never) win. There will always be vampires, demons, and hellhounds in the Buffy-verse. There's always another hellmouth.
That seems to me to be a more profound way of thinking: instead of doing what's right when it's hard, it's doing what's right when everything is telling you that it makes no difference. When the battle nevers stops.
A thought: yes, Buffy is often about doing what's right, even when it's difficult (though it must be mentioned that the characters often don't do this).
But what seems to me to be a more interesting aspect is that the characters are engaged in a fight that they will never (in fact, can never) win. There will always be vampires, demons, and hellhounds in the Buffy-verse. There's always another hellmouth.
That seems to me to be a more profound way of thinking: instead of doing what's right when it's hard, it's doing what's right when everything is telling you that it makes no difference. When the battle nevers stops.
Sunday, September 3
Disturbing thoughts
I'm not entirely sure that I know how to make/be friends with people. This bothers me, but I'm beginning to understand why that may be the case:
1. Personality problems: I am fully aware of the fact that I tend to be prickly, awkward, and melancholic. This does not easily lead to friendships.
2. Conflicts of interest: I have odd taste in things. For instance, at the used CD store the other day I bought 4 cds: Voices of Light which is artsy and medieval; I'll Lead You Home by Michael W. Smith, a contemporary Christian album; The Long Black Veil by the Cheiftans (Irish band) with other artists; and The Dirty Boogie by the Brian Setzer Orchestra, which is big band plus rockabilly plus hard rock. So yeah, weird tastes and interests.
3. Sheer lack of practice. I realized the other day that I'd spent the 13 years from age 5 to age 18 without many friends of any kind. In fact, I think I only had one real friendship in that time period, and that one was on-again off-again anyway. I just don't know how to be friends with people very well.
There are all of these people in my life, and I'm desperate to tell them how much I like them and want to be around them, but I find myself incapable of doing so. I simply don't know how to tell them. Some of this fear and shrinking may be due to the fact that for most of my life when I told someone how much I liked them, they tended to not speak to me for years afterward (if ever again). The vast majority of my social memories before college are of not being good enough, or pretty enough, or rich enough, or talented enough, or athletic enough, or with the right taste in movies and music. Of being too intense, too smart, too sad, too ecstatic, too bookish, too large, too individualistic, and too shy.
I am beyond grateful for the love I've found in my friends at college and church, but I'm beginning to think that certain parts of me have been damaged beyond repair: 13 years alone is a very long time. I honestly don't know how to let people in; I've never had to do it before. I don't know how to tell people I love them; I've gotten mostly rejection when I tried before. I don't know how to tell people that I want to spend time with them, because I honestly can't believe that they would want to spend their valuble time with me. That sounds pretentious, but it's true: I've tried to believe it, and can't.
I have always resonated to the line in the Evanesence song My Immortal: "there's just too much that time cannot erase." Is that true? Are these things that can only be healed in heaven? Like a bone that's been broken, and healed crookedly?
Dear God, if you want me to get close to other people, You'll have to break down my defenses Yourself; I can't do it.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. I am not worthy that Thou shouldst come under my roof, but speak the word only and my soul shall be healed.
I'm not entirely sure that I know how to make/be friends with people. This bothers me, but I'm beginning to understand why that may be the case:
1. Personality problems: I am fully aware of the fact that I tend to be prickly, awkward, and melancholic. This does not easily lead to friendships.
2. Conflicts of interest: I have odd taste in things. For instance, at the used CD store the other day I bought 4 cds: Voices of Light which is artsy and medieval; I'll Lead You Home by Michael W. Smith, a contemporary Christian album; The Long Black Veil by the Cheiftans (Irish band) with other artists; and The Dirty Boogie by the Brian Setzer Orchestra, which is big band plus rockabilly plus hard rock. So yeah, weird tastes and interests.
3. Sheer lack of practice. I realized the other day that I'd spent the 13 years from age 5 to age 18 without many friends of any kind. In fact, I think I only had one real friendship in that time period, and that one was on-again off-again anyway. I just don't know how to be friends with people very well.
There are all of these people in my life, and I'm desperate to tell them how much I like them and want to be around them, but I find myself incapable of doing so. I simply don't know how to tell them. Some of this fear and shrinking may be due to the fact that for most of my life when I told someone how much I liked them, they tended to not speak to me for years afterward (if ever again). The vast majority of my social memories before college are of not being good enough, or pretty enough, or rich enough, or talented enough, or athletic enough, or with the right taste in movies and music. Of being too intense, too smart, too sad, too ecstatic, too bookish, too large, too individualistic, and too shy.
I am beyond grateful for the love I've found in my friends at college and church, but I'm beginning to think that certain parts of me have been damaged beyond repair: 13 years alone is a very long time. I honestly don't know how to let people in; I've never had to do it before. I don't know how to tell people I love them; I've gotten mostly rejection when I tried before. I don't know how to tell people that I want to spend time with them, because I honestly can't believe that they would want to spend their valuble time with me. That sounds pretentious, but it's true: I've tried to believe it, and can't.
I have always resonated to the line in the Evanesence song My Immortal: "there's just too much that time cannot erase." Is that true? Are these things that can only be healed in heaven? Like a bone that's been broken, and healed crookedly?
Dear God, if you want me to get close to other people, You'll have to break down my defenses Yourself; I can't do it.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. I am not worthy that Thou shouldst come under my roof, but speak the word only and my soul shall be healed.
Tuesday, July 18
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Thanks to the Anchoress (www.theanchoressonline.com) for linking to this test.
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