The DNC, night one
In between the earlier speeches, during one of those musical interludes, a little girl was heard singing Alicia Keys' "No One"; quite the voice! Couldn't have been much more than 10 or 11.
Ted Kennedy: Looked much better than I thought he would. It would have been better if he could have expended his energy, battling against illness, in the service of a nobler cause.
Michelle Obama: News bulletin! The "t" in the word often is silent.
The Obama daughters: Way. Too. Cute.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Colbert on Hillary
I would have asked her to be more tenacious and more "never say die." I feel like she gave in too easily. I would have said, "Do not go gentle into that good night." I would've gotten Bill out there more.
Stephen Colbert in response to an interviewer asking how he would have run Hillary Clinton's campaign differently, in the September Reader's Digest
Stephen Colbert in response to an interviewer asking how he would have run Hillary Clinton's campaign differently, in the September Reader's Digest
Monday, August 25, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Catholics Against Joe Biden
Catholics Against Joe Biden
Here. Apposite quotations from Archbishop Chaput and Deal Hudson, among others.
Hudson : "Our Church is no longer a place where telling a few 'Pat and Mike' jokes and stories about Notre Dame football or Georgetown basketball can take the place of basic Catholic beliefs."
Here. Apposite quotations from Archbishop Chaput and Deal Hudson, among others.
Hudson : "Our Church is no longer a place where telling a few 'Pat and Mike' jokes and stories about Notre Dame football or Georgetown basketball can take the place of basic Catholic beliefs."
More of the cento
More of the cento!
Meredith has revealed part of her Dylan Thomas cento in Enchiridion's comment-box. We eagerly await the whole enchilada!
Meanwhile, here's my (somewhat inadequate) effort at a Dylan Thomas cento:
For as long as forever is,
Genesis in the root, the scarecrow word
Praised the sun
With no more desire than a ghost.
And nightly under the simple stars
I labour by singing light
With dry flesh and earth for adorning and bed.
The things of light
Raise up this red-eyed earth
Like wooden islands, hill to hill.
Over the choir minute I hear the hour chant:
Roaring, crawling, quarrel
In the last element
Possessed by the skies.
Your heart is luminous
On a star of faith pure as the drifting bread
And the shipyards of Galilee's footprints hide a navy of doves.
Meredith has revealed part of her Dylan Thomas cento in Enchiridion's comment-box. We eagerly await the whole enchilada!
Meanwhile, here's my (somewhat inadequate) effort at a Dylan Thomas cento:
For as long as forever is,
Genesis in the root, the scarecrow word
Praised the sun
With no more desire than a ghost.
And nightly under the simple stars
I labour by singing light
With dry flesh and earth for adorning and bed.
The things of light
Raise up this red-eyed earth
Like wooden islands, hill to hill.
Over the choir minute I hear the hour chant:
Roaring, crawling, quarrel
In the last element
Possessed by the skies.
Your heart is luminous
On a star of faith pure as the drifting bread
And the shipyards of Galilee's footprints hide a navy of doves.
Purple Prose
Given the color
of the text of this blog, how come no one's ever accused me of writing purple prose?
Just wondering.
of the text of this blog, how come no one's ever accused me of writing purple prose?
Just wondering.
Duran Duran
And a critical exegesis ...
of Duran Duran's "Hungry Like the Wolf" -- your smile of the day, via TSO.
of Duran Duran's "Hungry Like the Wolf" -- your smile of the day, via TSO.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Poetry blog
Cool poetry blog!
Poem of the Day. (The fastest way to find good stuff, I think, is to go to an author's name in the "Categories" sidebar.)
Poem of the Day. (The fastest way to find good stuff, I think, is to go to an author's name in the "Categories" sidebar.)
Zagajewski
It was a little landscape, endless winters,
in which there dwelled, as if in ancient lindens,
sparrows and knives and friendship and leaves of treason
Adam Zagajewski, from "Elegy"
(translated by Clare Cavanagh)
in which there dwelled, as if in ancient lindens,
sparrows and knives and friendship and leaves of treason
Adam Zagajewski, from "Elegy"
(translated by Clare Cavanagh)
Hopkins
One of the bloggers at "harriet"
the Poetry Foundation blog
gives us ten (eleven, really) fun facts about G M Hopkins.
the Poetry Foundation blog
gives us ten (eleven, really) fun facts about G M Hopkins.
Cento
The Penguin Book of the Sonnet
(a cento)
Our spirits grew as we went side by side
Listening to Schubert, grievous and sublime.
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
And signified the sureness of the soul.
I had forgot wide fields and clear brown streams;
Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill
To give us comfort through the lonely dark
Calm night, the everlasting and the same.
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light,
Your hands lay open in the long fresh grass.
I marked with flowers the minutes of my day:
One little noise of life remained -- I heard
The very shadow of an insect's wing
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine.
(a cento)
Our spirits grew as we went side by side
Listening to Schubert, grievous and sublime.
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
And signified the sureness of the soul.
I had forgot wide fields and clear brown streams;
Breathless, we flung us on the windy hill
To give us comfort through the lonely dark
Calm night, the everlasting and the same.
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light,
Your hands lay open in the long fresh grass.
I marked with flowers the minutes of my day:
One little noise of life remained -- I heard
The very shadow of an insect's wing
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Winter
Winter
(draft of a Merton cento)
The stormy weeks have all gone home like drunken hunters.
Our minds are bleaker than the hall of mirrors.
The moonlight rings upon the ice as sudden as a footstep:
Her words come dressed as mourners
And tremble where some train runs, lost.
Come where the grieving rivers of the night
Will harp forever in the haunted temples.
The little voices of the rivers change,
And wind dies in the empty gate.
Somewhere, inside the wintry colonnade,
As delicate as frost, as sharp as glass,
God's glory, now, is kindled gentler than low candlelight:
And on the holy hill
A shepherd scans the white accounting of the evening star.
O night of admiration, full of choirs!
O white, O modest cloister!
O land alive with miracles,
With veins of clear and frozen snow!
Now I will hear your voice at last
When the white stars talk together like sisters
And cannot go away
Until I plumb the shadows full of thunder.
(draft of a Merton cento)
The stormy weeks have all gone home like drunken hunters.
Our minds are bleaker than the hall of mirrors.
The moonlight rings upon the ice as sudden as a footstep:
Her words come dressed as mourners
And tremble where some train runs, lost.
Come where the grieving rivers of the night
Will harp forever in the haunted temples.
The little voices of the rivers change,
And wind dies in the empty gate.
Somewhere, inside the wintry colonnade,
As delicate as frost, as sharp as glass,
God's glory, now, is kindled gentler than low candlelight:
And on the holy hill
A shepherd scans the white accounting of the evening star.
O night of admiration, full of choirs!
O white, O modest cloister!
O land alive with miracles,
With veins of clear and frozen snow!
Now I will hear your voice at last
When the white stars talk together like sisters
And cannot go away
Until I plumb the shadows full of thunder.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Jokey cento
This day winding down now
(a jokey cento, composed of lines floating about in the memory)
Unlove's the heavenless hell and homeless home
(Peaked margin of antiquity's delay)
And night is all a settlement of snow
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time
My love is dark as yours is fair
Benignly vested in humility
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Twine in a moon-blown shell
The whiles her foot she in my neck doth place
And winter's dregs made desolate
The sun-cracked thwarts, the oarlocks at their strings,
Rocks, lakes, caves, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death
Comes the cold volume of forgotten ghosts
Like Gieseking playing Scarlatti
But liquor is quicker
So, planing-heeled, I flew along my man
In such a jocund company
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky --
About suffering, they were never wrong
And left the vivid air signed with their honour
Rose-cheekt Laura, come;
Thou art divine, thou livest, as of old --
Author of light, revive my dying spright;
I die of thirst here at the fountain-side
(a jokey cento, composed of lines floating about in the memory)
Unlove's the heavenless hell and homeless home
(Peaked margin of antiquity's delay)
And night is all a settlement of snow
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time
My love is dark as yours is fair
Benignly vested in humility
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Twine in a moon-blown shell
The whiles her foot she in my neck doth place
And winter's dregs made desolate
The sun-cracked thwarts, the oarlocks at their strings,
Rocks, lakes, caves, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death
Comes the cold volume of forgotten ghosts
Like Gieseking playing Scarlatti
But liquor is quicker
So, planing-heeled, I flew along my man
In such a jocund company
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky --
About suffering, they were never wrong
And left the vivid air signed with their honour
Rose-cheekt Laura, come;
Thou art divine, thou livest, as of old --
Author of light, revive my dying spright;
I die of thirst here at the fountain-side
Monday, August 18, 2008
Yet another cento
Yet another cento!
Not mine. This one's by John Ashbery. Here.
(And a list of sources for the lines from that cento.)
Split-screen version enabling one to see both the text of the cento and the list of sources at the same time.
Not mine. This one's by John Ashbery. Here.
(And a list of sources for the lines from that cento.)
Split-screen version enabling one to see both the text of the cento and the list of sources at the same time.
In Evening Air
In Evening Air
(draft of a Roethke cento)
Under a southern wind,
Hidden in my own heart,
My lady laughs, delighting in what is.
A suddenness of trees
Turned by revolving air:
You will find no comfort here.
All waters waver, and all fires fail.
The dark heart of some ancient thing
And the sheen of ravens:
Flutter of wings and seeds quaking --
Such stretchings of the spirit make no sound
(I'm martyr to a motion not my own).
Once I transcended time
And came to a dark ravine --
Our small souls hid from their small agonies.
I receive! I have been received!
What speech abides?
How high is have?
The dew draws near
And loves the living ground.
What do they tell us, sound and silence?
The bushes and the stones danced on and on;
I walk as if my face would kiss the wind.
(draft of a Roethke cento)
Under a southern wind,
Hidden in my own heart,
My lady laughs, delighting in what is.
A suddenness of trees
Turned by revolving air:
You will find no comfort here.
All waters waver, and all fires fail.
The dark heart of some ancient thing
And the sheen of ravens:
Flutter of wings and seeds quaking --
Such stretchings of the spirit make no sound
(I'm martyr to a motion not my own).
Once I transcended time
And came to a dark ravine --
Our small souls hid from their small agonies.
I receive! I have been received!
What speech abides?
How high is have?
The dew draws near
And loves the living ground.
What do they tell us, sound and silence?
The bushes and the stones danced on and on;
I walk as if my face would kiss the wind.
Without End
Without End
(draft of a Zagajewski cento)
Serpents in the vineyards slither softly.
Anything can happen.
What was ordinary isn't possible anymore.
Open wide the white fan of the window.
The cool wind interrogates the birds.
Children run across the flagstones.
Pale nights row noiselessly into the sky.
Youth dissolves
and a lark bathes in a puddle.
Through meadow and hedgerow, village and forest,
the weak blue flame of homeland wanders.
A fence. Chestnut trees. Bindweed. God.
Breathless autumn, racing, blue.
A tree on which a star sleeps.
:: :: :: :: ::
Addendum : The blogger at Enchiridion is having a cento contest!
(draft of a Zagajewski cento)
Serpents in the vineyards slither softly.
Anything can happen.
What was ordinary isn't possible anymore.
Open wide the white fan of the window.
The cool wind interrogates the birds.
Children run across the flagstones.
Pale nights row noiselessly into the sky.
Youth dissolves
and a lark bathes in a puddle.
Through meadow and hedgerow, village and forest,
the weak blue flame of homeland wanders.
A fence. Chestnut trees. Bindweed. God.
Breathless autumn, racing, blue.
A tree on which a star sleeps.
:: :: :: :: ::
Addendum : The blogger at Enchiridion is having a cento contest!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
What think we
What think we of this?
The key to the present situation, so far as a Catholic poetry is concerned, unlocks in turn a very serious paradox. The so-called renewal of the liturgy by Vatican Council II was preeminently an effort to bring to worship a much greater sense of the Mass itself through the participation of a laity officially designated as the People of God. But either we have failed to take note of some pervasively secularist forces at work in contemporary life, or the new liturgy itself has simply failed to inspire any further development of Catholic art. In a liturgy perhaps too conscientiously designed for a greater sense of community, almost the opposite effect has obtained -- that is, the nuclearization of the individual and consequently of the artist in isolation.
Thomas P. McDonnell, editor's introduction to Classic Catholic Poetry (Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor Publishing, 1988), p. 15
The key to the present situation, so far as a Catholic poetry is concerned, unlocks in turn a very serious paradox. The so-called renewal of the liturgy by Vatican Council II was preeminently an effort to bring to worship a much greater sense of the Mass itself through the participation of a laity officially designated as the People of God. But either we have failed to take note of some pervasively secularist forces at work in contemporary life, or the new liturgy itself has simply failed to inspire any further development of Catholic art. In a liturgy perhaps too conscientiously designed for a greater sense of community, almost the opposite effect has obtained -- that is, the nuclearization of the individual and consequently of the artist in isolation.
Thomas P. McDonnell, editor's introduction to Classic Catholic Poetry (Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor Publishing, 1988), p. 15
Friday, August 15, 2008
My girls lost
My girls lost!
I am shocked, distraught, and dismayed.
Update, Sunday : Well, at least they took the gold in doubles.
I am shocked, distraught, and dismayed.
Update, Sunday : Well, at least they took the gold in doubles.
Sung at Mass today
Sung at Mass today
Mary the dawn, Christ the perfect day;
Mary the gate, Christ the Heavenly Way!
Mary the root, Christ the Mystic Vine;
Mary the grape, Christ the Sacred Wine!
Mary the wheat, Christ the Living Bread;
Mary the stem, Christ the Rose blood-red!
Mary the font, Christ the Cleansing Flood;
Mary the chalice, Christ the Saving Blood!
Mary the temple, Christ the temple's Lord;
Mary the shrine, Christ the God adored!
Mary the beacon, Christ the Heaven's Rest;
Mary the mirror, Christ the Vision Blest!
Mary the mother, Christ the mother's Son;
By all things blest while endless ages run.
Mary the dawn, Christ the perfect day;
Mary the gate, Christ the Heavenly Way!
Mary the root, Christ the Mystic Vine;
Mary the grape, Christ the Sacred Wine!
Mary the wheat, Christ the Living Bread;
Mary the stem, Christ the Rose blood-red!
Mary the font, Christ the Cleansing Flood;
Mary the chalice, Christ the Saving Blood!
Mary the temple, Christ the temple's Lord;
Mary the shrine, Christ the God adored!
Mary the beacon, Christ the Heaven's Rest;
Mary the mirror, Christ the Vision Blest!
Mary the mother, Christ the mother's Son;
By all things blest while endless ages run.
Assumption
Question
Question
Why do so many women do their eye make-up on moving buses and trains? It makes me nervous watching them. I'm afraid they're going to injure their eyes!
(Just wondering. This blog will shortly resume its pondering of Serious Matters.)
Why do so many women do their eye make-up on moving buses and trains? It makes me nervous watching them. I'm afraid they're going to injure their eyes!
(Just wondering. This blog will shortly resume its pondering of Serious Matters.)
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Three readings
Three readings in Orthodox Christian spirituality
from the Dark Speech upon the Harp archives, October 2002
Here.
from the Dark Speech upon the Harp archives, October 2002
Here.
Merton
Suns explode from the light you spread through my guts and torn with love for you my cry becomes a hemorrhage of wild and cool stars.
Thomas Merton, from "Certain Proverbs Arise Out of Dreams," in Learning to Love: The Journals of Thomas Merton, Volume Six 1966-1967, p. 65
::
Comment : Not too many love poems contain the words "explode," "guts" and "hemorrhage," in the same sentence! But I guess prose-poems have always been a bit more surreal ...
Thomas Merton, from "Certain Proverbs Arise Out of Dreams," in Learning to Love: The Journals of Thomas Merton, Volume Six 1966-1967, p. 65
::
Comment : Not too many love poems contain the words "explode," "guts" and "hemorrhage," in the same sentence! But I guess prose-poems have always been a bit more surreal ...
Sunday, August 10, 2008
George Herbert
Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack'd anything.
'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here:'
Love said, 'You shall be he.'
'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on Thee.'
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
'Who made the eyes but I?'
'Truth, Lord; but I have marr'd them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.'
'And know you not,' says Love, 'Who bore the blame?'
'My dear, then I will serve.'
'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.'
So I did sit and eat.
George Herbert (1593-1633)
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack'd anything.
'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here:'
Love said, 'You shall be he.'
'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on Thee.'
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
'Who made the eyes but I?'
'Truth, Lord; but I have marr'd them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.'
'And know you not,' says Love, 'Who bore the blame?'
'My dear, then I will serve.'
'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.'
So I did sit and eat.
George Herbert (1593-1633)
Translating Scripture
1 Kings 19:12
... a tiny whispering sound (New American Bible)
... a faint murmuring sound (Revised English Bible)
... a gentle whisper (New International Version)
... a still small voice (King James Version)
... a tiny whispering sound (New American Bible)
... a faint murmuring sound (Revised English Bible)
... a gentle whisper (New International Version)
... a still small voice (King James Version)
Joseph Plunkett
I Saw the Sun at Midnight
by Joseph Mary Plunkett (1887-1916)
I saw the Sun at midnight, rising red,
Deep-hued yet glowing, heavy with the stain
Of blood-compassion, and I saw It gain
Swiftly in size and growing till It spread
Over the stars; the heavens bowed their head
As from Its heart slow dripped a crimson rain,
Then a great tremor shook It, as of pain --
The night fell, moaning, as It hung there dead.
O Sun, O Christ, O bleeding Heart of flame!
Thou givest Thine agony as our life's worth,
And makest it infinite, lest we have dearth
Of rights wherewith to call upon Thy Name;
Thou pawnest Heaven as a pledge for Earth
And for our glory sufferest all shame.
by Joseph Mary Plunkett (1887-1916)
I saw the Sun at midnight, rising red,
Deep-hued yet glowing, heavy with the stain
Of blood-compassion, and I saw It gain
Swiftly in size and growing till It spread
Over the stars; the heavens bowed their head
As from Its heart slow dripped a crimson rain,
Then a great tremor shook It, as of pain --
The night fell, moaning, as It hung there dead.
O Sun, O Christ, O bleeding Heart of flame!
Thou givest Thine agony as our life's worth,
And makest it infinite, lest we have dearth
Of rights wherewith to call upon Thy Name;
Thou pawnest Heaven as a pledge for Earth
And for our glory sufferest all shame.
Isaiah 41
The poor and the needy look for water and find none;
their tongues are parched with thirst.
But I the Lord shall provide for their wants;
I, the God of Israel, shall not forsake them.
I shall open rivers on the arid heights,
and wells in the valleys;
I shall turn the desert into pools
and dry land into springs of water;
I shall plant cedars in the wilderness,
acacias, myrtles, and wild olives;
I shall grow pines on the barren heath
side by side with fir and box tree,
that everyone may see and know,
may once for all observe and understand
that the Lord himself has done this:
it is the creation of the Holy One of Israel.
Isaiah 41:17-20 (Revised English Bible)
their tongues are parched with thirst.
But I the Lord shall provide for their wants;
I, the God of Israel, shall not forsake them.
I shall open rivers on the arid heights,
and wells in the valleys;
I shall turn the desert into pools
and dry land into springs of water;
I shall plant cedars in the wilderness,
acacias, myrtles, and wild olives;
I shall grow pines on the barren heath
side by side with fir and box tree,
that everyone may see and know,
may once for all observe and understand
that the Lord himself has done this:
it is the creation of the Holy One of Israel.
Isaiah 41:17-20 (Revised English Bible)
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Cardinal Schönborn
Cardinal Schönborn
(spotted at this Orthodox website)
In a world full of so much ugliness, liturgy should be a rest for the soul, a repose where the soul can breathe.
Beauty is not aestheticism. It is not an aim in itself. It is a glimpse of God's glory. We shouldn't stay with a glimpse . . . because people are thirsting for beauty and for what they rightly feel is behind beauty: the glory of God revealed to us.
Heaven opens in liturgy. Beauty in liturgy costs time, love, care, commitment. We must take time for preparing the liturgy, looking for the beauty of the flowers, the songs, the space, the incense, the candles. All this has nothing to do with pure aestheticism, but it is an expression of love.
The faithful can tell whether or not there is the love of God in a church. My experience is that wherever you have a beautiful liturgy, people come. People are attracted, and rightly. We should not say that this is only a superficial attraction.
Beauty is one way to God. It should never be separated from goodness and truth. Beauty without goodness is not beauty; so love for the poor has to be cultivated together with love for beauty -- and, of course, with love for the truth.
(spotted at this Orthodox website)
In a world full of so much ugliness, liturgy should be a rest for the soul, a repose where the soul can breathe.
Beauty is not aestheticism. It is not an aim in itself. It is a glimpse of God's glory. We shouldn't stay with a glimpse . . . because people are thirsting for beauty and for what they rightly feel is behind beauty: the glory of God revealed to us.
Heaven opens in liturgy. Beauty in liturgy costs time, love, care, commitment. We must take time for preparing the liturgy, looking for the beauty of the flowers, the songs, the space, the incense, the candles. All this has nothing to do with pure aestheticism, but it is an expression of love.
The faithful can tell whether or not there is the love of God in a church. My experience is that wherever you have a beautiful liturgy, people come. People are attracted, and rightly. We should not say that this is only a superficial attraction.
Beauty is one way to God. It should never be separated from goodness and truth. Beauty without goodness is not beauty; so love for the poor has to be cultivated together with love for beauty -- and, of course, with love for the truth.
Jesus of the Scars
Jesus of the Scars
by Edward Shillito (1872-1948)
If we have never sought, we seek Thee now;
Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;
We must have sight of thorn-pricks on Thy brow;
We must have Thee, O Jesus of the Scars.
The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars we claim Thy grace.
If when the doors are shut, Thou drawest near,
Only reveal those hands, that side of Thine;
We know today what wounds are; have no fear;
Show us Thy Scars; we know the countersign.
The other gods were strong, but Thou wast weak;
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone.
by Edward Shillito (1872-1948)
If we have never sought, we seek Thee now;
Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;
We must have sight of thorn-pricks on Thy brow;
We must have Thee, O Jesus of the Scars.
The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars we claim Thy grace.
If when the doors are shut, Thou drawest near,
Only reveal those hands, that side of Thine;
We know today what wounds are; have no fear;
Show us Thy Scars; we know the countersign.
The other gods were strong, but Thou wast weak;
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone.
Friday, August 08, 2008
Proclaimers
I wish I knew (more) German
because Scipio has given us what looks like a stellar post about the Scottish duo The Proclaimers ...
(Apparently, I've been mishearing the lyrics to "The Joyful Kilmarnock Blues" for the last two decades. "On a night when I can see with my eyes shut." Got it.)
because Scipio has given us what looks like a stellar post about the Scottish duo The Proclaimers ...
(Apparently, I've been mishearing the lyrics to "The Joyful Kilmarnock Blues" for the last two decades. "On a night when I can see with my eyes shut." Got it.)
Eve on St Augustine
(sorry, St. Augustine, for the most part I think you're the squiggly neon shoelaces of the world and I love you to little sparkly bits, but that wasn't your finest hour)
Eve on the great saint's belief about conversion by the sword
Eve on the great saint's belief about conversion by the sword
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Fr Tugwell
So long as we imagine that it is we who have to look for God, then we must often lose heart. But it is the other way about: he is looking for us. And so we can afford to recognize that very often we are not looking for God; far from it, we are in full flight from him, in high rebellion against him. And he knows that and has taken it into account. He has followed us into our own darkness; there where we thought finally to escape him, we run straight into his arms.
So we do not have to erect a false piety for ourselves, to give us hope of salvation. Our hope is in his determination to save us. And he will not give in!
Simon Tugwell, OP, via August 2008 Magnificat
So we do not have to erect a false piety for ourselves, to give us hope of salvation. Our hope is in his determination to save us. And he will not give in!
Simon Tugwell, OP, via August 2008 Magnificat
Novena Prayer
Novena Prayer to Mary Triumphant
1. O Mary, risen from the grave, ascend as the triumphant Queen, crushing with thy blessed foot the proud head of death; enriched with impassible immortality, go forth amind angelic hymns to celebrate the victory achieved, obtaining for us, who now accompany thee with loving devotion, to share hereafter thy happiness and immortality in heaven. Hail Mary.
2. O choice Dove, endowed with perfect agility, hasten thy flight to heaven, for now the severe winter of thy tribulations is past, and thy dear Son invites thee His beloved to come; oh, mayest thou not disdain to carry our hearts heavenward with thee. Hail Mary.
3. O enchanting Cloud, seen by the prophet Elias, endowed with perfect subtlety, the gift of glorified bodies, penetrate still farther into the heavens to be exalted to the very throne of God; but then return to us with an abundant shower of heavenly and earthly blessings. Hail Mary.
4. O Sovereign Lady, more beautiful than the dawn, more resplendent than the sun, rise above the stars amind the ineffable brightness due to thy glorified body; and may that radiant light, through the darkness of this exile, be a safe guide to those who rejoice in contemplating thy assumption to glory. Hail Mary.
5. O Mary, our hope, joyfully ascend to that glory where thy understanding will be immersed in God, the abyss of light, so that He will be wholly in thee as the sun in a shining crystal, and thou entirely in Him as a dewdrop in the ocean, making a new paradise in heaven itself, a source of happiness second only to thy divine Son. O delight of the Seraphim, grant that this splendid vision may render wearisome and disgusting all worldly allurements. Hail Mary.
6. Rise, O mysterious Ark, borne upon the arms of thy Beloved, and take possession of that exalted throne prepared next to Him, as Queen of the universe. Call vividly to mind the gifts, privileges and graces with which thou wert filled to overflowing, and repeat with unceasing joy, "He that is mighty hath done great things unto me." But remember, O Mary, that because of us sinners thou wert elevated to the sublime dignity of Mother of God. Hail Mary.
7. Fly, O Mother most admirable, with wings of the will and of burning desires, rather than with the swiftness of thy glorified body, to everlasting union with thy only-begotten Son, the center and place of rest for thy tender affections. What sweet ecstasy shall thrill thy soul in that beatific embrace! Do thou cause the flames of that love to descend upon us who are so lukewarm and slothful. Hail Mary.
8. Who will grant us, O Mother of holy love, that we may always be inflamed with that charity, which was enkindled in thy heart at thy Immaculate Conception, and increased beyond measure until it gently consumed thy life? O love, stronger than death itself, that neither saw nor will ever see lessening or extinction! Do thou make that love effective in our weak and troubled hearts, and likewise in the souls of the faithful departed, that on this day of thy triumph they may come forth all-beautiful from the cruel, cleansing flames. Hail Mary.
9. Enter, O Mary, fairer than Rachel, lovelier than Esther, into the blessed mansion of the King; enter upon thy office as our powerful advocate, for the Most Holy Trinity has awarded to thee the kingdom of Mercy. O Queen most benign, say to God that we are thy devoted children; this alone will suffice to make us happy for time and eternity. Amen.
Hail Mary, Glory be to the Father, etc.
V. The holy Mother of God is exalted.
R. Above the choirs of angels in the heavenly kingdom.
Let us pray
Pardon, we beseech Thee, O Lord, the transgressions of Thy servants, that we who by our own works are not able to please Thee, may be saved by the intercession of the Mother of Thy Son, through Christ our Lord. Amen.
1. O Mary, risen from the grave, ascend as the triumphant Queen, crushing with thy blessed foot the proud head of death; enriched with impassible immortality, go forth amind angelic hymns to celebrate the victory achieved, obtaining for us, who now accompany thee with loving devotion, to share hereafter thy happiness and immortality in heaven. Hail Mary.
2. O choice Dove, endowed with perfect agility, hasten thy flight to heaven, for now the severe winter of thy tribulations is past, and thy dear Son invites thee His beloved to come; oh, mayest thou not disdain to carry our hearts heavenward with thee. Hail Mary.
3. O enchanting Cloud, seen by the prophet Elias, endowed with perfect subtlety, the gift of glorified bodies, penetrate still farther into the heavens to be exalted to the very throne of God; but then return to us with an abundant shower of heavenly and earthly blessings. Hail Mary.
4. O Sovereign Lady, more beautiful than the dawn, more resplendent than the sun, rise above the stars amind the ineffable brightness due to thy glorified body; and may that radiant light, through the darkness of this exile, be a safe guide to those who rejoice in contemplating thy assumption to glory. Hail Mary.
5. O Mary, our hope, joyfully ascend to that glory where thy understanding will be immersed in God, the abyss of light, so that He will be wholly in thee as the sun in a shining crystal, and thou entirely in Him as a dewdrop in the ocean, making a new paradise in heaven itself, a source of happiness second only to thy divine Son. O delight of the Seraphim, grant that this splendid vision may render wearisome and disgusting all worldly allurements. Hail Mary.
6. Rise, O mysterious Ark, borne upon the arms of thy Beloved, and take possession of that exalted throne prepared next to Him, as Queen of the universe. Call vividly to mind the gifts, privileges and graces with which thou wert filled to overflowing, and repeat with unceasing joy, "He that is mighty hath done great things unto me." But remember, O Mary, that because of us sinners thou wert elevated to the sublime dignity of Mother of God. Hail Mary.
7. Fly, O Mother most admirable, with wings of the will and of burning desires, rather than with the swiftness of thy glorified body, to everlasting union with thy only-begotten Son, the center and place of rest for thy tender affections. What sweet ecstasy shall thrill thy soul in that beatific embrace! Do thou cause the flames of that love to descend upon us who are so lukewarm and slothful. Hail Mary.
8. Who will grant us, O Mother of holy love, that we may always be inflamed with that charity, which was enkindled in thy heart at thy Immaculate Conception, and increased beyond measure until it gently consumed thy life? O love, stronger than death itself, that neither saw nor will ever see lessening or extinction! Do thou make that love effective in our weak and troubled hearts, and likewise in the souls of the faithful departed, that on this day of thy triumph they may come forth all-beautiful from the cruel, cleansing flames. Hail Mary.
9. Enter, O Mary, fairer than Rachel, lovelier than Esther, into the blessed mansion of the King; enter upon thy office as our powerful advocate, for the Most Holy Trinity has awarded to thee the kingdom of Mercy. O Queen most benign, say to God that we are thy devoted children; this alone will suffice to make us happy for time and eternity. Amen.
Hail Mary, Glory be to the Father, etc.
V. The holy Mother of God is exalted.
R. Above the choirs of angels in the heavenly kingdom.
Let us pray
Pardon, we beseech Thee, O Lord, the transgressions of Thy servants, that we who by our own works are not able to please Thee, may be saved by the intercession of the Mother of Thy Son, through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
One word meme
One Word Meme
spotted at Fructus Ventris
1. Where is your cell phone? None.
2. Your significant other? Ditto.
3. Your hair? Unkempt.
4. Your mother? Nearby.
5. Your father? Chelsea?
6. Your favorite thing? Beer.
7. Your dream last night? Forget.
8. Your favorite drink? Beer.
9. Your dream/goal? Private.
10. The room you're in? Den.
11. Your church? Catholic.
12. Your fear? Hell.
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Alive!
14. Where were you last night? Asleep.
15. What you're not? Slender.
16. Muffins? English.
17. One of your wish list items? [?]
18. Where you grew up? Boston.
19. The last thing you did? Edit.
20. What are you wearing? Casual.
21. Your TV? Nearby.
22. Your pets? None.
23. Your computer? Old.
24. Your life? Dull.
25. Your mood? Average.
26. Missing someone? Yes.
27. Your car? None.
28. Something you're not wearing? Tie.
29. Favorite store? Books.
30. Your summer? Thundery!
31. Like (love) someone? Indeed.
32. Your favorite color? Blue.
33. Last time you laughed? Recently.
34. Last time you cried? Sunday?
35. Who will re-post this? Nobody!
spotted at Fructus Ventris
1. Where is your cell phone? None.
2. Your significant other? Ditto.
3. Your hair? Unkempt.
4. Your mother? Nearby.
5. Your father? Chelsea?
6. Your favorite thing? Beer.
7. Your dream last night? Forget.
8. Your favorite drink? Beer.
9. Your dream/goal? Private.
10. The room you're in? Den.
11. Your church? Catholic.
12. Your fear? Hell.
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Alive!
14. Where were you last night? Asleep.
15. What you're not? Slender.
16. Muffins? English.
17. One of your wish list items? [?]
18. Where you grew up? Boston.
19. The last thing you did? Edit.
20. What are you wearing? Casual.
21. Your TV? Nearby.
22. Your pets? None.
23. Your computer? Old.
24. Your life? Dull.
25. Your mood? Average.
26. Missing someone? Yes.
27. Your car? None.
28. Something you're not wearing? Tie.
29. Favorite store? Books.
30. Your summer? Thundery!
31. Like (love) someone? Indeed.
32. Your favorite color? Blue.
33. Last time you laughed? Recently.
34. Last time you cried? Sunday?
35. Who will re-post this? Nobody!
Cummings
Cummings
seeming's enough for slaves of space and time
--ours is the now and here of freedom. Come
seeming's enough for slaves of space and time
--ours is the now and here of freedom. Come
Monday, August 04, 2008
Sunday, August 03, 2008
The Dream
The Dream
by Theodore Roethke (1908-63)
1
I met her as a blossom on a stem
Before she ever breathed, and in that dream
The mind remembers from a deeper sleep:
Eye learned from eye, cold lip from sensual lip.
My dream divided on a point of fire;
Light hardened on the water where we were;
A bird sang low; the moonlight sifted in;
The water rippled, and she rippled on.
2
She came toward me in the flowing air,
A shape of change, encircled by its fire.
I watched her there, between me and the moon;
The bushes and the stones danced on and on;
I touched her shadow when the light delayed;
I turned my face away, and yet she stayed.
A bird sang from the center of a tree;
She loved the wind because the wind loved me.
3
Love is not love until love's vulnerable.
She slowed to sigh, in that long interval.
A small bird flew in circles where we stood;
The deer came down, out of the dappled wood.
All who remember, doubt. Who calls that strange?
I tossed a stone, and listened to its plunge.
She knew the grammar of least motion, she
Lent me one virtue, and I live thereby.
4
She held her body steady in the wind;
Our shadows met, and slowly swung around;
She turned the field into a glittering sea;
I played in flame and water like a boy
And I swayed out beyond the white seafoam;
Like a wet log, I sang within a flame.
In that last while, eternity's confine,
I came to love, I came within my own.
by Theodore Roethke (1908-63)
1
I met her as a blossom on a stem
Before she ever breathed, and in that dream
The mind remembers from a deeper sleep:
Eye learned from eye, cold lip from sensual lip.
My dream divided on a point of fire;
Light hardened on the water where we were;
A bird sang low; the moonlight sifted in;
The water rippled, and she rippled on.
2
She came toward me in the flowing air,
A shape of change, encircled by its fire.
I watched her there, between me and the moon;
The bushes and the stones danced on and on;
I touched her shadow when the light delayed;
I turned my face away, and yet she stayed.
A bird sang from the center of a tree;
She loved the wind because the wind loved me.
3
Love is not love until love's vulnerable.
She slowed to sigh, in that long interval.
A small bird flew in circles where we stood;
The deer came down, out of the dappled wood.
All who remember, doubt. Who calls that strange?
I tossed a stone, and listened to its plunge.
She knew the grammar of least motion, she
Lent me one virtue, and I live thereby.
4
She held her body steady in the wind;
Our shadows met, and slowly swung around;
She turned the field into a glittering sea;
I played in flame and water like a boy
And I swayed out beyond the white seafoam;
Like a wet log, I sang within a flame.
In that last while, eternity's confine,
I came to love, I came within my own.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Definition
Definition
Pedestrian: noun. One who would begrudge
A pirouette for not being a trudge.
1991
Pedestrian: noun. One who would begrudge
A pirouette for not being a trudge.
1991
Blogger glitch?
Can't get onto various blogs
including Video meliora, Catholic and Enjoying It, Curt Jester, Andrew Sullivan, Irish Elk, Enchiridion, Touchstone's Mere Comments and several others
What happens : A grey rectangle pops up saying Internet Explorer cannot open the site. Operation aborted.
Anyone else having this problem?
Addendum : I wasn't having this problem yesterday.
Addendum # 2, Saturday afternoon : Everything seems okay now, and I haven't switched to Firefox. Yet!
including Video meliora, Catholic and Enjoying It, Curt Jester, Andrew Sullivan, Irish Elk, Enchiridion, Touchstone's Mere Comments and several others
What happens : A grey rectangle pops up saying Internet Explorer cannot open the site. Operation aborted.
Anyone else having this problem?
Addendum : I wasn't having this problem yesterday.
Addendum # 2, Saturday afternoon : Everything seems okay now, and I haven't switched to Firefox. Yet!
Friday, August 01, 2008
Dylan Thomas
I was walking, one afternoon in August, along a riverbank, thinking the same thoughts that I always think when I walk along a riverbank in August. As I was walking I was thinking -- now it is August, and I am walking along a riverbank. I do not think I was thinking of anything else. I should have been thinking of what I should have been doing, but I was thinking only of what I was doing then, and it was all right.
Dylan Thomas, from "The Crumbs of One Man's Year"
Dylan Thomas, from "The Crumbs of One Man's Year"
Thursday, July 31, 2008
A serious man
Seriously
I was dining at a restaurant recently, with family -- a micro-step above casual food -- and had a fine meal of chicken with pasta in an asiago cheese sauce. After dinner came the dessert menus, and everyone got dessert except me.
The waitress asked, "Did nothing catch your eye?"
I said, "Well, I was tempted by the Decadent Chocolate Cake, but I think I'll pass."
The waitress, displaying wonderful tact, replied, "It is a serious dessert, but you look like a serious man."
Indeed!
I was dining at a restaurant recently, with family -- a micro-step above casual food -- and had a fine meal of chicken with pasta in an asiago cheese sauce. After dinner came the dessert menus, and everyone got dessert except me.
The waitress asked, "Did nothing catch your eye?"
I said, "Well, I was tempted by the Decadent Chocolate Cake, but I think I'll pass."
The waitress, displaying wonderful tact, replied, "It is a serious dessert, but you look like a serious man."
Indeed!
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