Continuing the search

Some seek adventure, a sort of wonder-lust as the popular term goes ( or is it wander-lust). Some seek a spiritual high, a sense of life, connection, peace. They go from one religion to another, changing to suit their needs, restlessly seeking a home, a resting place. Most, I think, seek to fill an emptiness, with things, or experiences, or points of pride, to drowned out a truth that is waiting in that silence on the mountain top or echoing Cathedral. I started seeking to fill, but now I see to seek to be empty, or rather poured out, is the way to be consoled. You become a fountain for God, a fountain for Love. You are not the water. But you cannot be a fountain unless you pour out all the water that you have. Whatever you give, more will be given to you, for the God is the water of everlasting life and you are his vessel.

This idea of blessed emptiness has been developing over a long time. It is only now that I am hearing others speak of it.

The catechism of the Catholic Church says "Seek in reading and you will find in meditating" (number 2654) in this I have been blessed. I have always been drawn to study and reflection. I have heard of those who will only believe what someone can convince them of face-to-face. I pray for these people, for few of them seek. For me books have been my pathways, my journey to sort out the troubled thoughts and feelings and begin to live in peace. One book is The Mystery of Art: Becoming an Artist in the Image of God by Jonathan Jackson.

I am here in front of one of my stuffed Billy book cases sitting Indian style, my laptop tottering on the top of a cardboard file box, typing away. Such is the life of an ambitious reader and writer in a little urban tree house of an apartment who has read (maybe) a fourth of her library and who has only posted a handful of times over the last five years on her personal blog. Over the last month or so I have been making an effort to increase my reading and consequent reflections in writing. Here are some of the results.

I can never pick up one book at a time. Reading books like a kid in candy store, I can’t help but try several at once. I have stacks of books on all surfaces, organized by relevance to what I have my mind on this week. There is a pile of art and drawing on the coffee table. On the dining table there is a stack of sewing magazines and a variety of spiritual and practical books, and on the long wall shelf a tower of Medieval literature and architecture (I am holding off on that one). Currently, there are three books that take turns accompanying me where ever I go.
There is a copy of The Paris Review Interviews Vol. I, a gift from my godfather I have been reading with relish over many months. The front is now a pasty yellow, the back is still its original taxi bright hue, and the pages are full of pencil lines and margin notes and the occasional bit of sand from our summer’s one beach trip.

The second is Beauty for Truth’s Sake: On the Re-enchantment of Education by Stratford Caldecott. Anyone worn out by academia and it’s seemingly banal and singular goal of handing out certificates to students who have checked every class-to-take off their list, please get a copy. It is a refreshing book for those who love to learn but find some unease in voicing your dissatisfaction in modern education. This book explains why there is such an unease and dissatisfaction and gives examples of the beauty that is missing and how to look for it.

Lastly, a lucky find at my beloved Half-Price, is Passionate Minds: Women Rewriting the World by Claudia Roth Pierpont. Unusually, this one I am reading without any other recommendations other than that the subject is interesting and the first pages read well. This is unusual, I am rather wary of current female writers, having disliked the prose of most of them I have perused at Barnes and Nobles. I have only just finished the first chapter reviewing the life of Olive Schreiner and her major work African Farm. I have been pleasantly surprised by the fair critiques of this biographer and her balanced review of Schreiner and her influence. She wrote this of Schreiner, which I put in my commonplace book: “She knew that she suffered the ills and dissatisfaction of a “transitory condition,” her own and her society’s and she consoled herself with Browning’s “What I aspired to be and was not, comforts me.”

Somehow I feel we are in a transitory time in history, which feels at once stalled and also renewing and growing. I think of Augustine’s time like this. (Today is his feast day) Yes, he lived shortly before the fall of the Roman Empire, the archetype of all subsequent decaying of society. Is society declining now? I would say yes. Why? I think it is partly because we are denying the basic structure of human reality, that men are male and women are female, that the human race is continued by the union of a man and women which brings forth children by procreative act and rears them in a safe, nourishing and balanced environment. With the practice of contraception and abortion, the frequency of divorce, the increase of fornication and resulting abundance of bastard children, (to name a few) mankind has withered into a self-centered self-abusive voyeuristic wreck. Being a woman, I am going to do the part of laying the blame on my sisters and myself. We are part of this Self-centered shit hole of a society. Why? Well, in my reading I hope to muse on this issue and find a solution. Why are women a problem to society? How can they be a positive movement towards the renewal of human prosperity? What can one American woman do to change her world? I am going to try to find out.

This is what I drew as I listened to a friend read this article. Read it. What do you think of?

THE ARTICLE

We Have an Artist's Life

Here are some thoughts on another movie. I don't remember seeing it before, but I have known of it for some time, being always interested in an old movie and a true story. Lust for Life, the 1956, Movie story of the life and passion of the painter Vincent Van Gogh, starring Kirk Douglas. Van Gogh is perhaps the most recognizable artist from his work. I remember being by a copy of his Starry Night, when a boy came up to me pointed, and asked, "That's Starry Night by Van Gogh, isn't it?". I gave him a glad yes, and he smiled back and walked on. At that moment I was very glad the schools were teaching art history enough for that boy to know at least one painter's name. Perhaps, what is not well known of Van Gogh, is that he was the son of a minister and wanted himself to be a evangelist of the Word. The movie depicts a man too full of his passions and longings to be woven into the more common patterns of society. In his work he sought to give something beautiful and significant to mankind. He had no success with his paintings during his lifetime which gave him assurance of his skill and vision, yet evidence of his spirit and perseverance is exhibited around the world and is enjoyed not simply by the world of art, but by the community's of the common man. I saw Starry night at my museum, a small thing compared to the large posters sold everywhere, yet it was as lively and vivid and alive as ever. I have also seen other landscapes of his and sketches,in real life and in reproduced in those big coffee table books. You can tell he had to work for that style which is so recognizable. From those big books I've read that it was many years before he developed his own style, in between were years of constant practice, and hundreds of sketches and paintings. As my art teacher as Glassel impressed upon us: we should draw a hundred drawings a day, by always observing, working to grasp the distance and bulk and consistency of the things we see. As in all great things, art is a habit to be mastered, the skill with a pencil or a pen, use of them and your eyes over and over again, till every form is ingrained in the motion of your hand. In psychology 101, we students learned that muscle memory is the last part of our memory to go, that is why a person with Alzheimer's can still tie their shoes and knit, even if everything else once familiar has slipped away from them. I believe there is also something medicinal in physical habits. Hobbies and pastimes as simple as knowing how to work and use a camera or picking out a becoming ensemble to wear each day can enrich and enliven ones life considerably even if that life is basic and repetitive or even uncertain and used to mishap. Van Gogh was a lonely man, he wanted companionship which is the highest form of friendly flattery and perhaps the most basic sign of love. The continual process of painting I believe was a comfort to him, and a pain,.. as lonely occupations can be. We might be in a work place, a home, a society full of people but if no one recognizes a person, a person with a soul and a voice, even if spoken in color stroke by stroke, then I think we are all alone. See the person next to you. In your next crowded and free moment take a breath and open your ears your heart, and your mind.

I am sitting here on the floor watching “A Little Romance”. I hardly recognized Sir. Laurence Oliver in the part of the old man, but he is as endearing and as charming as ever. The story is simple, boy meets girl, and the two runaway on a trip to Venice, Italy, with the help of a friend, an old man. Though familiar enough the plot doesn’t have to be any captivating; it is the characters, the boy and girl who keep me watching. Like any Fairytale like story it is not really the ending but the truth of the characters that win a place in our memory. She prefers philosophy books to watching her mother faun over the skills of a young director as he works on a scene. The boy is smart, he is a movie go-er, he also reads books that are not assigned in school. You know these are kindred spirits. At first meeting they trust each other, they talk of how improbable such a meeting is, how they thought there soul-mate could have been in another time or another part of the world, they know, as odd and intelligent as they are, they are lucky to have found one another. Of course, I can’t help but get a little teary-eyed, because this is my fairy tale. I have always felt myself to be the Mary Bennet, the Hermione Granger, the Diane Chambers, the girl who shoots for the stars and talks about everything, and knows she’s the one whose a little outside the loop. A lot of girls must relate to that, I think. The character appears in stories over and over again Anyway, A Little Romance is a movie to watch on a sentimental afternoon, or a rainy day off of work.

Another Year

For every Winter there's a Spring-

Oh, that's the beauty of the thing!

For ev'ry midnight there's a morn,

For ev'ry loss a hope is born,

For ev'ry sultry day the dew,

For ev'ry old year there's a new!


Yes, buds for all the leaves that fall-

That is the beauty of it all.

New dreams for all the dreams that die,

For ev'ry night a dawning sky-

For ev'ry heartache, failure, fear,

Another chance, another year!

-Douglas Malloch

spontaneous curiosity

Man is not all mind, is God?

Yay! Laptop fixed. I must confess it was nerve racking, at every step I thought I was going to fracture some piece of plastic or ruin some circuit. I think I was so agitated I could have bit someone if they bothered me, not very Christian like, but I have some issues to work out when it comes to costly electronics which this society requires you to use

A new day needs a new beginning. So here is a new look for the blog.

Yay! I finally have a laptop screen on order after breaking mine some months ago on my birthday. Who could foresee that I needed that extra insurance?..."for just in case you drop it". Thank goodness for friends who know how to look things up and find computer parts for reasonable prices online, and u-tube how-to videos.

Talking about u-tube learning I saw this girl perform a solo with an entire orchestra behind her. http://www.maddiemarlowmusic.com/about/ She taught herself guitar by watching u-tube videos. Once my laptop is fixed maybe I'll try that for the piano.

Nearly Midnight Post

This is not a dead blog. I am still alive. Pictures to follow (hopefully within the week.) I'm writing mostly on paper now, because my computer needs repairs.. . . . . will type more later.

Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Pray For Us.

Midnight Freewrite

What is it about life? In the best of times it is bliss, just seeing the little amazing, mind boggling, miracles that keep it full of spice, variety and wonder, yet at the same time saying one comforting word: home. Life is home. At other times it might as well be a horror film where every moment you wonder when the zombies are going to tear someone’s heart out, literally. I know I was taught symbolism doesn’t have meaning without the literal translation, but I’m not sure I can translate life without the symbolism first. Is it the language or the things themselves? Sometimes I feel I’m only a bunch of words in someone else’s mouth; I have no substance myself. What is reality? What’s real? That is the question we are really asking, Right? It’s not all about Truth, right? We are talking about what is going on in our living breathing lives here. Where’s the beauty, the joy, the peace, the vibrancy that keeps us existing, it only slightly seems to gleam from us, or from some idealized heroic figure, like Einstein, or Churchill, or Mother Theresa, who we keep in the public eye. The truth is they are like us too, people who fall and pick themselves up again, have worries and troubles and for a moment think they are the mud of the earth, fearing they will fail in their hopes and aspirations and lose all, even, or mostly, themselves. I can’t describe very well what it’s like to be there, except it sucks. Friends are the only thing that can pull you out of that again, or be there till you get through it. Churchill began to paint; Mother Theresa had prayer and an entire world of poor people. (I can’t think of what Einstein had right now) There is something redeeming about laboring for someone other than yourself (I think it always comes down to a someone, and I’ll tell you why another time), whether it’s a connection with the light of a landscape or the light in the faces of the poorest of the poor. I suppose the laboring part began at the beginning, (well, shortly after), but the redeeming part was always there part of the potentially that is a single human person, an amazing beautiful, joyful, peaceful, vibrant individual who shines light on every other. This is what I dream of, this is my idea of life, to be such a person and still fully me. I only know of one such person (or is it three?) who labored to this degree, and as far as I know that’s why the rest of us are here, real.

[1] quod fuit ab initio quod audivimus quod vidimus oculis nostris quod perspeximus et manus nostrae temptaverunt de verbo vitae [2] et vita manifestata est et vidimus et testamur et adnuntiamus vobis vitam aeternam quae erat apud Patrem et apparuit nobis [3] quod vidimus et audivimus adnuntiamus et vobis ut et vos societatem habeatis nobiscum et societas nostra sit cum Patre et cum Filio eius Iesu Christo [4] et haec scribimus vobis ut gaudium nostrum sit plenum [5] et haec est adnuntiatio quam audivimus ab eo et adnuntiamus vobis quoniam Deus lux est et tenebrae in eo non sunt ullae

John 1:1-5

Take the Quiz here!

Epiphany January 6th

Happy (belated) Epiphany!

Garden critters

For the last few days I have been trying to do garden and yard work with my mom to enjoy the beautiful weather, and the wild flowers that are now everywhere in our yard. I was surprised several times as I discovered critters who were finding there own perfect spots in the yard.(unfortunately, I don't have my own pictures).

It was late afternoon when I noticed this dragonfly was landed behind me. I've taken a picture, but with my non-digital 35mm, who know what will turn out, if anything at all. He stayed still for so long. My mom wondered if he was dead. I tried to coax him on to a stick, but I think he felt unbalanced and he took off.

This guy was under an empty, overturned water barrel curled up on a dirt mound. He slithered away and hid himself in a low growing plant where he stuck his tongue out and watched us. I like snakes in the garden. Hopefully this one was guarding the garden from rats, but he had lost part of his tail, so I don't know what that means when it comes to his experience.

I was pulling up weeds under the fig tree when my eye fell upon him. I was surprised, I hadn't noticed him before. He was about medium size for a green tree frog. I took one picture before the light dimmed enough for my camera to stop focusing, but I still sat right next to him and watched his vibrating throat and examining his translucent moist skin.

Sunday Morning, woke up just in time to be late for 7:30 Mass, so I decided to go to one of the later times. The day was beautiful. The rays of light streaming through the yellowish array of the oaks, putting out their pollen, came down to the lemon-lime grass spotted with patches of Carolina Buttercups. I was sent to the store for bacon and cheese, and whisked away a half dozen gorgeous roses I spotted on sale for two dollars, with thoughts of arranging them for the Our Lady of Guadalupe statue at the front door.

After Mass I found two! Dresses which fit (with minor adjustments), and went to the knee. I am so happy I have a dress I can feel comfortable in and wear every day. So many dresses in my size are thin, short and/or look like they are for special occasions only.

At home I followed a recipe for lunch. I am not on a diet by any means, but this dish was satisfying and refreshing. Roasted carrots with parsley and feta cheese: Wash and peel carrots, slice into chunks at an angle. In a walled pan toss carrots with a healthy drizzle of olive oil and pinch of salt and pepper. Roast in the oven, at 350 degrees for 20 to 25 minutes. Remove from the oven and mix in chopped parsley (or cilantro), and feta cheese. Simple, fast, and delicious.

Hmm, Do I sound too positive today? People all around me were complaining, were anxious, and were not feeling well. How can you help people who have difficulty letting go of their troubles and need to just Trust in God and do what they need to do, or need comfort and help you can't necessarily give? Well first I guess, do what I can and then, Trust in God for the rest.

I like Albert

If you want to know more about Albert Einstein, I would recommend this site as a start:
http://www.aip.org/history/einstein/index.html

After reading this short summary of his life, my interest and admiration was peaked. I find Albert Einstein a wonderful person. I don't tink of him as great scientist. To me he is creative thinker, and a great human being. He had faults, but he appears to have learned from them. He had fears and troubles, but he persevered through the long years of laboring through trial-and-error research, and working in situations where his hopes and ideas were misunderstood, to discover a way of looking at reality which has influenced the rest of us ever since. I think I would have liked to be his friend, to imagine with him, and enjoy with him, the beauties and mysteries of reality. His enthusiasm for life and its wonders went far beyond those areas we recognize as, science. Among the conflicts of the time he lived in, he was also aware of the importance of human life and human freedom and he frequently spoke his mind, first because people listen to celebrities, and by that time he was one, and second, because he had something worth listening to. I am almost continually amazed by the thing I learn about this incredible man. He was open to expanse of all existence, and when he found something of truth he was humble enough to say he change his mind. I am so greatful to be aware of people who are willing to change themselves for The Good. Long live intellectual truth and moral freedom! The seekers of The True, The Good, and The Beautiful, will persevere in this world and live in the next.

There are some good books about Albert Einstein out there, even an autobiography. Look him up.

Quote of the day

"Being a lover of freedom, when the revolution came in Germany, I looked to the universities to defend it, knowing that they had always boasted of their devotion to the cause of truth; but, no, the universities immediately were silenced. Then I looked to the great editors of the newspapers whose flaming editorials in days gone by had proclaimed their love of freedom; but they, like the universities, were silenced in a few short weeks . . .

"Only the Church stood squarely across the path of Hitler's campaign for suppressing truth. I never had any special interest in the Church before, but now I feel a great affection and admiration because the Church alone has had the courage and persistence to stand for intellectual truth and moral freedom. I am forced thus to confess that what I once despised I now praise unreservedly." - Albert Einstein

Literary ponderings

I suppose if I'm ever to make a habit of writing I will have to start out with more typing than editing. So, I'll just type away. . . .

I finally found a story I like in my creative writing book. Each chapter of instruction is followed by several stories as examples of that chapter's topic. They are all short stories. Most of the ones I have read so far (more than ten) have been bleak, depressing and self-centered. I suppose all this is part of the conflict which I am having difficulty understanding as the main movement of a story. I thought there were different types of conflict, but I'm not sure if I am seeing them all used among the stories I have read:

Man vs. Man (a physical struggle with men, animals or nature)
Man vs. Circumstances (the struggle against fate, providence, or destiny)
Man vs. Society (struggle against ideas, customs, and concepts)
Man vs. Self (struggle with the person's own views, state of life, condition of soul, physical limitations, etc.)

In these stories I see mostly this last, Man vs. Self, and even though this may be the conflict which no story is without, for all conflict is between man (a self) and an other, I cannot help but think there is a sort of hopelessness found along with it, at least in these stories. Each creative story:has a negative note ending. The sick foot soldier:dies, the teenage girl:kidnapped, the clown seeking lover:pitiful and rejected, the imaginative boy:a mentally mixed up adult, the unfortunate man:dead, philosophical, or intoxicated. For the students who read these stories, what they read is captivating and disappointing at the same time. Life is much like the story and they will be as sick of the latter as they are of the former.

I am not saying these stories should not have been written. They convey a truth of human emotion and experience. Struggle is part of that, but I say, We, the real human beings, are in need of more of what is just beyond that struggle, an insight, a change, a hope, a victory. I believe here on earth we may have victory, and yes, perhaps the only human victory we will have is the one which overcomes the Man vs. Self struggle, but, I believe this victory is possible and should be hoped for, fought for. And, I think more stories should reveal, point to, and highlight this possibility.

The story I enjoyed tonight is called: Mrs Dutta Writes A Letter, by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. The story is about a Indian widow who comes to live with her son in America, and her memories and thoughts as she attempts to write her best friend back in India. Why Do I like it? Maybe it's because I agree with the old lady's disapproval of the in a hurry, don't have time for you, mind your own business, society. Maybe it's because I can relate to her, embarrassed, desiring companionship, do-not-belong-in-this-world, feelings. I am not even sure if what I see in this story is really there. I only can say I see that among the difficulties she has adjusting her traditional ways to fit in with the acceptable American way, one traditional persisting thought prevails. She writes to her friend, "It has something to do about love, I still think that" Love, and thoughts and actions for others, for the sake of love, will help us be victorious even in our most degrading and lost of times.

Word Play

Here is me playing with words:
(These are three separate poems)

Love is a motion
full of devotion
and being what it is
gives.

***

Faith is a risk
giving a kiss
to children who love
mystery.

***

God is a king
who gave a ring
to the lady he loves and
married.