Green Persephone

Pre-Lenten Reflections: Road to Assisi, Part I

2011-03-05T14:14:00.000-08:00

It seems fitting, according to the overriding theme of my life’s pilgrim journey, that I should begin my personal weekend retreat to Assisi by waiting alone for two hours in an ugly train station. Particularly when I should be on my train now, but – due to my ever increasing forgetfulness these days – I forgot to validate my ticket, and as a result was politely asked to exit at the next station (it was, ironically, this increasing scatterbrainedness that motivated me – with the disconcertingly emphatic support of my boss – to take the day off in the first place). Having sought the conductor the moment I realized my mistake, I was, thankfully, spared both the patronizing lecture and the 50 euro fine. But booted from the train I was, nevertheless. I rather mourn the days when I could talk my way out of such messes, with big clueless American eyes and endearingly pathetic Italian. Unfortunately for me, my capacity for the language – while far from where it should be – has become good enough to make it clear to the authorities that I have been living in Italy quite long enough to know better.

With one more hour to wait, and nothing to stare at but, well, an ugly train station, I’m consoled by the fact that most of my truly rich spiritual pilgrimages have a habit of beginning in places that are as paradoxically filthy as they are sterile. It was last Holy Thursday (coincidentally April 1), for instance, that I went to the Questura for my Permesso di Soggiorno appointment. The entire day consisted of trains, metros, and the ugliest, most dilapidated neighborhoods of Rome that are so industrial, so barren, so far from its holy center that one could hardly believe them to be part of the Eternal City; the irony of the fact that April Fool’s Day corresponded with my spending one of the Church’s holiest days in an area of the city devoid of any symbol of faith did not escape me. After a long, dirty, spiritually barren day, I finally returned to the real Rome, now after dark, to catch whatever seven Churches I could find, in order to venerate the chapels where the Blessed Sacrament had been reposed in a beautifully decorated throne, per the ancient tradition. In spite of the loneliness of that day, nothing can compare to the profound poignancy of finding one Church after another, each gloriously and tenderly decking its Eucharistic alter in flowers and gold, in the knowledge that the following day would see the ignoble yet Salvific death of the One who was enthroned therein.

There is something about the barren darkness that makes one see the Source of the Light in its most deeply intimate beauty. It is of this, (if I may digress for a moment), that John of the Cross speaks in his poem, “The Dark Night of the Soul,” in which he compares the sense of God’s absence to a young maid secretly seeking her lover in the dead of night, with no light to guide her but the love she feels in her heart:

Oh night thou was my guide,

Oh night more loving than the rising sun!

Oh night that joined the lover to the beloved one,

Transforming each of them into the other.

(per the interpretation of Lorenna McKennit)

In His mysterious mercy, (if I may continue the digression) God has created an unexpected union between human sin and the loving tenderness of the dark night of the soul. When we fall in love with God, we do not become magically immune from sinning. Neither does love of God mean that, when we do sin, we love Him any less (we are, after all, still quite concupiscenced, and will remain so until the end). Rather, the only real difference between someone who has fallen in love with God and someone who has not is that the one in love feels their sins more keenly, for they recognize sin as an offence against their lover. “What puts the real twist into our hearts after our faults and small betrayals of grace” says the Poor Clare Sister Mary Francis, “but the aching knowledge that God loves us so tenderly and that we continue to disappoint and snub His love?” In this way, sin becomes, in an odd and unconventional way, a grace, for it sends us running back to Him for forgiveness, instead of laughing benignly at an indiscretion that, in our minds, harms only ourselves and offends no other. Within the heart of God, sin is transformed into a dark night of the soul, purifying and even strengthening the union between God and the one He loves.

- - -

Happily (and legally!) on the train now. With my luck, today will be one of the days when the conductor decides to not check for passenger tickets. I has also occurred to me that my cell phone is about to run out of battery, necessitating me to keep it off in order to save it for emergencies. God is putting His own hand into forming the course of my retreat, it seems. It’s just as well that He does; I’m terrible when it comes to organizing such things.

- - -

I finally landed in Assisi, a tad later than I had intended, but nonetheless happy. After settling into my room (in the “new” city, right next to basilica), I stepped out into the piazza and felt . . . freedom. There is nothing like taking a pilgrimage on your own, and Assisi holds a significance for me that no other city on earth can claim. The little house located inside the great basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli, where St. Francis first cut the golden hair of the exquisite St. Clare and exchanged her queenly silks for rags, marks the centuries-long chain of events that led to my own sister entering the cloister Poor Clare Monastery. This fact implies many things, one of which being I will only be allowed to hug my sister one more time before she dies: that will be on the 25^th anniversary of her “simple” vows (I have fifteen years to go). Yet, in being part of this sacrifice I cannot help but feel bound to something ancient, for my sister’s decision to enclose herself forever into a monastery is a sacrifice that has been nearly 800 years in the making, beginning on that clandestine night when Assisi’s most noble and lovely girl escaped her father’s house to espouse herself to God. Through my sister, I cannot help but find myself indelibly bound to a vast Franciscan family that can, with aristocratic pride, claim the noble Francis and Clare as its parents.

Goodnight, my dearest Assisi. I will see you in the morning.

(P.S. And for the record, the conductor did check our tickets in the end. Don’t forget to validate, folks!)

Pre-Lenten Reflections: Preparing for the Mercy of God

2011-03-02T14:16:00.000-08:00

Any excuse to begin an article with a quote from Miss O'Connor . . .

"Mr. Head stood very still and felt the action of mercy touch him again but this time he knew that there were no words in the world that could name it. He understood that it grew out of agony, which is not denied to any man and which is given in strange ways to children. He understood it was all a man could carry into death to give his Maker and he suddenly burned with shame that he had so little of it to take with him. He stood appalled, judging himself with the thoroughness of God, while the action of mercy covered his pride like a flame and consumed it. He had never thought him self a great sinner before but he saw now that his true depravity had been hidden from him lest it cause him despair. He realized that he was forgiven for sins from the beginning of time, when he had conceived in his own heart the sin of Adam, until the present, when he had denied poor Nelson. He saw that no Sin was too monstrous for him to claim as his own, and since God loved in proportion as He forgave, he felt ready at that instant to enter Paradise."

~ Flannery O'Connor, "The Artificial Nigger"

Why are we, at times, inclined to dwell on our past transgressions? Doing so only leads us to fear the inevitability of our weakness in the future. It is true that all of us suffer from vices that we have not yet overcome, vices that are likely to attack us again and again. And, to be quite frank on the matter, there is a more than fair chance we will fail against our vices many more times before the end.

We must, nevertheless, fear neither the inevitable temptations that we have yet to confront, nor the sins that we have yet to commit. Through the teachings of the Church and the wisdom of the saints, we can find rest in the certainty that God will give us all the strength we need to fight temptation. Yet, we still fear our weakness; why? What do our weaknesses matter when we know that, each and every sin of our past and future, be they are graver than all the sins in the world, will be forgiven completely, so long as we ask for it?

Have confidence. His love is fierce, His mercy infinite, and even the greatest sin of our lifetime could never even conceive to withstand the terrible power of His forgiveness. Do not doubt reality of God's love; it is far more real than any human love. Therefore, when sins and human frailty weigh upon you, forget the eyes of the world. Turn, instead, to the heart of God.

Quirks in this here Italian life

2011-02-09T13:55:00.001-08:00

I live in a little hobbit hole, and like many hobbit holes, internet access is sporadic at best, if one is lucky enough to have it available at all. Perhaps the hobbit holes of Middle Earth have, by now, advanced to such sophisticated and wildly available technological luxuries as having reliable internet in one’s dwelling, but Italy’s hobbits must still learn survive without such conveniences. Therefore, when my need for internet arises, I am obliged to a tiny little hotspot across the street, thanks to the unprotected network of the small community of nuns who live there. When I say across the street, though, I don’t mean within the confines of the religious community itself. I mean, on the sidewalk. One particular 10 foot area of the sidewalk. Sans anywhere to sit except the ground. It must be admitted at this point that the nuns do not seem to have caught on to what I am doing.

Working as a communications contractor (or head, or officer – we have yet to settle on a satisfactory English translation of my job title), not having ready means of communication with the outside world can create complications, but I’m learning to adjust. Perhaps it is that Italy, with such parents as Francis and Clare, can’t help but bring the Franciscan resourcefulness out of this poor student of communications. This morning, for instance, I conducted my business from the curb and its magical hotspot of internet glory (only what was necessary, mind you, because I do feel a little guilty using a religious community’s internet without their expressed permission for mere pleasure). I had everything I needed: my little netbook, my cell phone, my mug of Dunk’n Donuts Coffee (yes, I drink Dunk’n Donuts Coffee in Italy, and I’m not ashamed!), and my fuzzy slippers. In any case, there I was, happily crouched on the curb like a hobo, touching base with the journalist of one TV station via email, organizing a documentary with another via cell, managing invites to meetings, sipping my Jo, stealing internet from nuns, and being reprimanded by an Italian lady stranger for happily crouching on the ground like a hobo (because, to an Italian, young ladies who sit on the ground, especially in the manner of a hobo, will incur not only a horrific demise upon themselves, but will spread their misfortune throughout all the lands in the form of plague and birth defects and overall destruction of civilization. Coincidentally, it should be noted that going barefoot indoors, going out of doors with wet hair, and drinking ice water and hot coffee at the same time, also have very similar catastrophic consequences).

What else could anyone want outside of the simplicity of life? I am grateful that I am not one of the rich folk, who come here for short periods to see the sites, to drink fine wine and dine in the most authentically famous Italian restaurants. I, rather, am the poor, homeschooled, socially awkward feral child of a miniscule Virginia town, who stumbles my way month after month through a foreign city, trying to make my way in the vast and professional world of communications (in Italian, no less) . . . and I could not be a happier misfit. My endeavors in the world of communications have not yet made me rich, and quite frankly, I’d be rather sad if they did (with the exception of having my debts paid off, that is). There is a glorious color in life’s eccentricity, especially when the eccentricity is naturally occurring, and when it is born of poverty.

For a little American from a backwoods Virginia town, living in this city can be a constant assault of noise, confusion, humiliation, and heartbreak. In order to survive, therefore, it is utterly imperative that one have a love for poverty, a love for the will of God, and a joyfully fierce sense of humor in the face of absurdity.

the vocation

2011-02-05T12:37:00.000-08:00

The peace that comes from finding ones vocation (or at the least, when one finds the grace of discernment of a vocation) is like having a sword, dull and wooden as the Cross, plunged into your heart, where it is anchored into the Heart of Jesus. It is in this way that vocation brings peace, for it is anchored firmly in love, the security and safety of being in love.

But what is not foreseen is that an act of love of a Creator entering into and becoming one of his own creation cannot happen but through violence. Instead of bringing earthly peace, the true vocation -- which is the face by which God wins over the heart of his beloved -- opens chasms of torrents and uncertainties, as well as graces and blessings. But, in the grace of vocation, one has eyes to see through the storms the towering pillar that is the love of God.

A Lenten thought or two for the Pontifical student . . .

2010-03-01T00:17:00.000-08:00

“I have come not to bring peace, but a sword.”
Matthew 10:34

“Fallen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must lay down his arms.”
–C. S. Lewis

The lay Pontifical student’s life in Rome is woven with more questions than our veins are with cappuccinos. When did I become more comfortable with men in collars than with men who have not taken a vow of celibacy? Have I fulfilled my “humiliating-moments-in-the-Italian-language” quota for the week? Why does the small chapel in our library smell never of incense, but always of apples? Was the reason some saints had the gift of bilocation so that they could make it to all of their pontifical classes? Why is night the only time when Rome becomes truly radiant? What is the sad story of the widowed barrister who works in the local bar, where coincidentally one can find the best coffee in all of Rome?

And what on earth was God thinking when He called me here?

The reality of living in this city cannot be condensed into classes, language, delicious food, beautiful architecture, and the historical and tangible affirmation of our Faith, all neatly and benignly suspended about us. Rather, these elements, along with our passions, our insecurities, our talents, our friendships, our love for our families back home, and everything that makes us who we are, clash into one another at every moment with a celestial violence that leaves all of the pieces lying in ruins at our feet.

Yet, such is ultimately the destiny for all of us, whether we live in the Eternal City or the backwoods of West Virginia. It is not enough to simply acquire accurate knowledge and good habits; these alone, while giving us means by which to identify truth and to follow the motions laid out by it, simply do not have what it takes to lead us all the way to the very heart of the matter. True fulfillment of our humanity comes, rather, by surrendering ourselves to the reality that Redemption demands that we must first be devastatingly destroyed. It is not simply a purification of our poor habits and worldly attachments; it is an actual death to ourselves, our entire selves. The calling to take up the Cross is not only a call to suffer; it is a call to die, for it is only through death that we can become who we truly are. “Love, as mortals understand it, isn’t enough,” says C.S. Lewis. “Every natural love will rise again and live forever in this country; but none will rise again until it has been buried.”

But though, in the process of being rebuilt, we feel the pain of the nails being driven in, and our beams pulled apart, those of us who are called to be pilgrims in this city are surrounded by constant reminders that what we are being reconstructed into is a palace for our Father to live in. This is the special gift of being called to live in Rome, for here is the only city on earth where we fully witness the majesty of our faith in such a way as to not only give us courage to strive for Heaven, but more importantly, joy in the knowledge of what is waiting for us when we get there.

"Gethsemane"

2010-03-01T00:02:00.000-08:00

let us not now wake the sleeping hours that with mountains into this valley break. let the faltering woods that crowd our souls from the One who sees through the ashes burn. until this child of ebony seeks a fallen grace, yet fallen but redeemed. I've left all things, but You are not here; forgotten by my foolish pride, yet stand You there, to weep.

I little something that I wrote many years ago . . .

The life of Job

2009-09-25T21:49:00.000-07:00

One of the greatest snares to one's life is a false trust in Providence, in which we believe that He is taking care of us on the basis that things are going right and well in our lives. But actual trust must transcend this. The fact that things sometimes fall into place, it is true, is a testament of God's love, and His desire for us to be as happy as possible in this life, so long as that happiness poses no threat to eternal life. Yet, real trust in God must prevail when things go rather badly, maybe even rather terribly. Because the greatest happiness for which all events in life lead us to is beyond this world; if God takes away all semblance of earthly happiness, it is not because He doesn't desire our temporal happiness, but it is because there is some hindrance in our lives that is a detriment to an unimaginable eternal joy. This hindrance may come from us, or it may come from something completely out of our control.

God does not desire suffering on this earth that we may obtain happiness in the next. He allows suffering to help us see, but He does not desire to see us suffer, and would have us suffer as little as possible.

God does not redeem us through the evils of the world. He redeems us in spite of them.

Some recent thoughts on Christianity and the future of the Church . . .

2009-07-07T15:11:00.001-07:00

It has been so long that I don't know where to begin, and have no particular direction at the start. Therefore, I must excuse my lack of direction and organization, as well as any generalizations that I may have made.

Life has moved me another small step in the direction of adulthood, increasing my awareness of the childishness of each step before this one, especially those steps that I, at the time, believed to be the most significant and wise in my life. The more I observe intellectualism and spirituality of the most "sophisticated" kinds, the more I realize what children we are, trying to imitate Heaven, not aware that our high exaltation's are an infant's babble, almost unintelligible to the angels. I have found that I have both improved and declined. As I let myself go in childish happiness, I find that I am wiser; but at the same time, I have grown too much, and have begun to descend back into spiritual incoherency.

Through my observations of both the Church and of myself, I have started to see -- although I'm very far from fully understanding -- just how corruptive it is to liturgy and tradition to dichotomize these historic elements from what it means to be a Christian. It is true that the Consecration takes place in the traditional rites regardless of the sentiments of those participating in the Mass, and that God, being present, provides infinite grace; however, when such tradition is clung to, to such an extent where those who partake in it are hypocritical, hateful, cruel and perverted, the efficaciousness of the Mass is affected.

God is infinite, and there is not a single person who participates in the Mass without sin. But the community is part of the Mass; many modern Catholics have misinterpreted this concept and turned the Mass into a get-together instead of the worship of God that it is intended to be. Nonetheless, community is implied in the celebration of the Mass. Do not, therefore, the hateful sentiments held by some in the traditionalist community have the capacity to taint the reception of grace even in the Holiest of celebrations and worship? It is not that such hypocrisy dampens the "feelings" of holiness; but such company, even in a liturgical celebration, has the power to dampen the ability to perceive and remember virtue.

Is it better, when one has a choice, to participate in a technically higher for of worship when you are entering into a community that loves tradition and hates Christ, while one can go to a simpler but equally valid mode of worship where the community may be simpler, but are seeking to love God? Some say that there is greater risk of sacrilege in the simpler liturgies; but is a perfectly celebrated traditional Mass free of sacrilege when its celebrated by people who are shamelessly open about their hypocrisy and perversion? And is this sacrilege better simply because it occurs in a traditional format?

The traditional liturgies are historical, beautiful, and should be maintained and participated in. But in all honesty, the world isn't capable of understanding it, because Catholics both liberal and ultra-conservative have forgotten that they are Christians. The problems began long before Vatican II -- the council would never have resulted in such abuse had the Church been so disconnected from Her roots that she was able to be torn to shreds so easily.

Therefore, before orthodoxy can return to the Church, She must first return to Christianity. The benefits of such a return have already been seen in England, through the Catholic Literary Revival and its followers. By returning to the Gospels, the Epistles, and the Fathers, prominent members of the Church of England found themselves in a conversion of both intellect and faith to the Catholic Church. Even C.S. Lewis, who never took the step to become Catholic, came closer to the truth of the Church than most Catholics will ever come; many converts attribute their conversion to Catholicism -- Catholicism, not merely Christianity -- to Lewis.

If returning to the Christian roots, simple common sense though they were in many ways, could lead to such a powerful revolution of intellect and faith in the minds and hearts of Anglicans, one can only imagine the possibilities if such a "revolution" were to occur within the Church Herself.

John Paul 2 High

2008-04-13T21:50:00.001-07:00

"One start-up school. Seven mismatched kids. Catholic truth. . . . Craziness . . .

When their parents decide to start a new high school, George, Celia, Liz, J.P., Brian, and James are all thrown together, although they have almost nothing in common. George and Celia attended the local Catholic high school, Brian and James were homeschooled. Liz just wants to attend a school where she can play sports, and J.P. just wants to make trouble.
Then there's a shooting at the local public high school,and Allie Weaver joins the class . . ."

This is a great series for Catholic teenagers, and is important in the ever growing effort to promote good Catholic art to youth in our secular-driven world. The first book in this series, Catholic Reluctantly, has finally been published, and we are now asking for all the support that we can get to help us promote it so that we can keep going with this project.

The John Paul 2 High series, written by Christian M. Frank, deals with the everyday challenges of Catholic teens, following the main characters as they search for truth while trying to live a good life in the real world. The everyday trials and struggles of these average teenagers are presented in a way that is accessible, without being preachy. The story itself, moreover, is a solid blend of humor, intrigue, and real-life hardship and joy.

Catholic Reluctantly is available for purchase at www.amazon.com and www.sophiainstitute.com. If you enjoy this book, please leave a review telling other readers what you think! You can also find more information at the main website, http://johnpaul2high.com/, as well as their main blog at http://johnpaul2high.blogspot.com/.

"Signposts in a Strange Land"*

2008-04-08T20:33:00.000-07:00

People break down into two groups when they experience something lucky. Group number one sees it as more than luck, more than coincidence. They see it as a sign, evidence, that there is someone up there, watching out for them. Group number two sees it as just pure luck. Just a happy turn of chance. I'm sure the people in Group number two are looking at those fourteen lights in a very suspicious way. For them, the situation is fifty-fifty. Could be bad, could be good. But deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they're on their own. And that fills them with fear. Yeah, there are those people. But there's a whole lot of people in the Group number one. When they see those fourteen lights, they're looking at a miracle. And deep down, they feel that whatever's going to happen, there will be someone there to help them. And that fills them with hope. See what you have to ask yourself is what kind of person are you? Are you the kind that sees signs, sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky? Or, look at the question this way: Is it possible that there are no coincidences?

M. Night Shyamalan ~ Signs

Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while."

The Prince's Bride

Providence is at once our greatest reality as it is the greatest question mark that dictates the fragility of faith. There are rare moments when we catch a glimpse of the path that God has led us down, and we can see the incredible wisdom and precision with which every breath of our life has been assembled. Yet, these visions grow further apart with growing skepticism as we fall further and further into the realization of suffering, and the question of our vocation. Does God desire a child to die -- or worse -- as part of His Will? If the man (or woman) who is our perfect spouse chooses a life without us, was this because he or she was simply not the one who God intended for us to begin with, or does God's will "change" in such a way that we are redirected to God's second choice for us? If we do our best to follow God's will, how can we reconcile Providence in light of the actions of those who do not, when their choices seem to indelibly effect the course which our life takes? How do we reconcile the happiness of following our God-given vocation with the sins of those who seem to prevent our vocation from taking place? Does Providence move with the inconstancy of free will, or is it philosophically possible to believe that while we are fully free, the path that God has laid out before us is always and intimately protected?

There are two problems that we face in considering Providence. If God's will depends solely on human free will, we run the risk of becoming deists; God is there, but in the end we are on our own. At the same time, if God is in complete control, we run the risk of believing in the wrong kind of predestination. This harmony between Divine guidance and free will is a difficult concept to reconcile, yet as Catholics, this harmony is fundamental. How is this possible? How does it reconcile with vocation? And what about this problem of suffering?

In regards to our vocation, it is my belief that if we try to follow God's will as best we can, there is nothing that can affect our vocation, nor the ultimate joy that comes from finding it. Everyone desires true love, whether it is through another person, or through the religious life. This is not to say that vocation isn't painful. True love -- requited or not -- hurts tremendously because the suffering and imperfections of that other person become your own, except amplified by a million. But God does not give these transcendental desires to leave them unfulfilled, because He does not desire suffering, only allowing it when He must. Losing the "man of our dreams," therefore, or being prevented from entering a religious order, is not the tragedy that it may seem to be at the time. If God desired it, He would find a way to make it happen. And even if it is true that the "first" vocation was God's first choice, what does it matter in terms of our happiness? Original Sin was not God's first choice; yet His second choice was to dignify our humanity with the Incarnation, with a far greater dignity than we ever would've known had Eve just told the serpent to bugger off in the first place.

We are not redeemed by suffering per se, but by our ability to hope in spite of suffering. We are wholly free, yet wholly protected from everything that fallen nature can inflict upon us, so long as we resign ourselves to mercy. We choose, falter, stray, and cause one another to stumble. But Providence is far greater than our choices, and the sufferings and losses that we experience either by our own hands or by the hands of others. Our one and only power is our ability to choose, but our free will would have no power without His grace. We choose our vocation, and are even free to choose between two relatively equal goods; but our ultimate vocation remains protected.

"One Day Late" by Sam Philips

Refrain:
Help is coming
Help is coming one day late
One day late
After you’ve given up and all is gone
Help is coming one day late
Help is coming one day

Try to understand
You try to fix your broken hands
But remember
That there always has been good
Like stars you don’t see in the day sky
Wait ‘til night
For(refrain)

Life has kept me down
I’ve been growing underground
Now I’m coming up
When time opens the earth
You’ll see love has been moving all around us
Making waves
So (refrain)

*Walker Percy

In Defense of Art, Diversity, and Catholicism

2008-04-08T15:42:00.000-07:00

Originally published October 11, 2006

Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace."

~Oscar Wilde

One of the more interesting arguments against Catholicism, from an artistic perspective, is that in living by a single truth, diversity is limited. But what about the alternative?

If you believe that there is no God, no objective truth, how is infinite diversity possible? Even the abyss of the universe is finite. And the answer isn't simply to do what hasn't been done. If art is simply pushing the limits and doing what no one else has done, you're being original without being creative. Art becomes limited to the created world, by the created world.

In the converse, when art is meant to more than entertain, when it reaches towards objective truth, towards God, it is appealing to something that is infinitely more vast than the created universe. God is infinite, and He Himself is an artist. When art moves toward God, there will necessarily be elements in it that would be impossible to achieve by appealing to nature alone. Even when agnostic artists achieve some level of supernatural beauty, it is through the grace of God, not nature. With God, the possibilities, to be cliché, are endless.

The Poetry of Truth

2008-04-04T09:55:00.000-07:00

Here is a reposting of an article that I wrote a while back, for your enjoyment.

The difference between philosphy and poetry is that philosophy reveals and identifies, while poetry reveals the unidentifiable. This is why a good poet must be a philosopher, while a philosopher must not necessarily be a poet. Often, the more literalistic philosopher downplays the importance of poetry for the very reason that he cannot see the truth of poetry, because he cannot identify it. However, the purpose of all good art is to touch upon something that is far greater than human experience can acheive on this earth. Poetry acheives what philosophy aims for, which is truth. The only difference is that the truth acheived by poetry is so profound, it is inexpressible. This is a testament to the mysterious power of poetry, for the poet has the ironic talent of using words to express a truth for which there are no words.

Academy Awards in Retrospect

2008-02-24T16:26:00.000-08:00

In honor of the Acadamy Awards, and in absense a conscious Muse, I'm going to reprint an old article on the topic. Enjoy!

Since I've been on my own, I've been happy enough to not have the temptation of cable, and consequently of flipping to the E! channel. When I do have access to it, however, I am somehow compelled to watch as who-knows-what-aged women with implants and hair extensions talk about who's hooking up with whom and who's shopping where (both on equal par). It is almost impossible to determine their ages, not only because of the complete facelifts and measurable thickness of make-up, but because the older they get, the more they speak with the crassness and immaturity of a very badly-behaved teenager.

Watching E! News Live, I feel like I am in highschool; they are the cool kids, the ones from the rich families, with the fancy scholarships, and with the best clothes in town . . . and we're the chess club, the ones with glasses, headgear, and matching sweatshirts. At least, that's what we're made to feel like. Our noses don't look like theirs; ours still have cartilage. That, in addition to the fact that we look, how should I put it, not like a silicon Barbie doll, puts us beneath their notice, and if we are graced with their notice, it is not for a flattering reason.

What a job these entertainment journalists have! They probably went to a top college, and had all sorts of fascinating opportunities for journalism, newscasting, etc. And what are they doing? Telling the world about where Paris Hilton was last seen, showing clips of actors and actresses running away from the camera, which actress was seen coming out of which actor's home in the wee hours of the morning, or what Lindsey Lohan is saying about her feelings on the Iraq war (what she doesn't realize is that one of the reasons the Muslims love us so much is because of people like her). What artistry to talk about who Biffy is boffing today, to quote the Gilmore Girls (I think I'll pretend I don't know what "boffing" means . . .). What a way to spend your God-given talent!

Is Hollywood really this idolized by the public? I know I could care less about what flavor lip gloss Jessica Simpson is wearing this Fall, but are there people who do care? If no one cares, why are these shows still on the air? It is a show about the personal lives of people I don't know, and probably never will know, and it gives us information that is incomplete and selectively politically correct when it is accurate at all. Why is Hollywood still appealing?

In the Golden Age of cinema, the actors and actresses, though not always perfect, maintained class. Even if their personal lives were falling to shambles, they at least made the effort to put up a front that demonstrated the importance of giving the example of maintaining dignity. For this reason, in part, Hollywood became our royalty. They had their faults (artists, after all, aren't exactly known for being the most emotionally well-adjusted), but one could still respect them.

George Clooney made an interesting statement at this past Academy Awards. He said that people say that Hollywood does not represent the rest of the country. He then referenced the Academy Awards of 1939 when the wonderful actress Hattie McDanial (in one of my personally favorite roles of all time) became the first African American to win the award for Gone With the Wind. He said that Hollywood did not represent the rest of the country then, and he was right. Her taking that award was truly a beautiful moment.

However, George Clooney is missing something. Yes, Hollywood once stood heroically against the evils of the world. But what Mr. (albeit very handsome) Clooney does not realize is that, if Hollywood does have the power to stand up against the world, it therefore has a greater responsibility to do so. Hollywood was admirable in 1939 in many ways; but it is not so now. In 1939 it still had the capacity to stand against the evils of the world because it upheld the belief that femininity, gentlemanliness, and ultimately dignity were essential to humanity (not to mention the fact that religion and morality were still considered respectable); it was this sense of human dignity that gave them the capacity to see the injustice of segregation. But where is the dignity now, in a culture that has no bounds, where exposure rather than talent is key to success, where few children born can say that their mother and father were married when they were conceived, or that their mother and father were ever married at all, where strength and bravery consist of how close to nakedness you can get on the red carpet without "technically" exposing yourself? Does not Mr. Clooney realize that the Hollywood now bears little resemblance to the Hollywood of 1939?I guess it just comes down to the fact that we should look to the Church for moral guidance and direction, the Church which has been solidly constant and consistent for 2000 years, and not to a culture of people who spend their lives pretending they are someone who they are not.

There is my rant for the week. Definitely a sign that I need to get out more. Ciao a tutti!

Our Lady from a Graveyard

2007-09-11T19:49:00.000-07:00

A picture that I took from my travels, and then played with the resolution.

My break from the blog

2007-08-19T16:13:00.000-07:00

To open with a cliche, I have been neglecting my blog. Obviously. Now, this is partially due to lack of time, largely through lack of inspiration, somewhat through my computer having inexplicable differences of opinion with blogger.com, and mostly through the realization that, while I am most inspired to write when I am stressed or under pressure, that's usually the last time I should write if I want to be seen as an even remotely reasonable person. I write fairly well when I am venting, a talent which would serve me very well if I was a liberal Bush-basher/Fox News hater/anti-organized religion/ editorial writer. However, since I find such writers rather perturbing, I have waited until the stresses in my life (normal stresses, but stresses all the same) have subsided somewhat.

And since I don't ever want to become one of those bloggers who honestly believe that someone will care that their latest epiphany about the true meaning of the universe comes from the geometric shape they found in a defective cheerio, I will stop talking about myself, and try to scrounge up something interesting to be opinionated about.

The Subtlies of European Culture

2007-06-10T06:31:00.000-07:00

This is a sign that was posted on the side of a tourist bus in Paris.

Europeans aren't into being subtle, that's for sure.

What I've been up to . . .

2007-06-10T04:38:00.000-07:00

For those of you who actually read my blog occasionally, here is my very specific reason for why I have not updated my blog for the past month.

This was our view from our small country house in Arezzo, where we stayed for about two weeks. It was about an hour by train from Florence, and was right in the centre of Tuscany (the Chianti region, specifically).

Bellano, Italy, is a small town along the coast of Lake Como, about an hour and a half away from Milano by train. This is the view I saw every day for almost a month.

It was quite lovely.

Remember the fallen

2007-04-18T12:26:00.000-07:00

Let us especially remember the family of Cho Seung-Hui, and the families of all of those who were killed.

Eternal rest grant unto them, oh Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls, and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace, Amen.

"House" Redeemed?

2007-04-10T21:17:00.000-07:00

I've been watching "House" off and on for the past three seasons since its Pilot, but only recently have I really started to pay attention to it. Although the writers often sashay dangerously to and over the edge of impropriety, they are most often just very candid, a quality I am personally attracted to. The unorthadox methods excercised by the title character, Dr. Gregory House, are often admirable in terms of the fact that he acts for the benefit of the patient, despite convention or legality, and also make for some fascinating and unexpected storylines.

One of the more interesting facets of the show, however, is the internal conflict raging within House himself. Ten years earlier, a procedure had been done against his will in which muscles from his thigh had been removed to put a stop to a life-threatening infection, a procedure which has left him crippled, bitter, and in constant pain. This pain, along with an already depressed, self-centered, and neurotic personality, has caused him to become addicted to the narcotic Vicadin. He is a self-proclaimed rationalist, although it is unclear whether or not he is simply harboring a hatred for whatever higher order has left him broken and a cripple. He is a pessimist, insisting that "everybody lies; the only variable is as to what." His experience with pain, both of himself and his patients, in conjunction with a vast knowledge of science, causes him to reject any higher order, with the basic philosophy that we must treat life the best we can, because the future is ultimately without dignity or hope.

Consequently, the undertone of existentialism of the show, and the fundemental atheism of the main character, makes the overall treatment of objective truth, religion, and morality well-intentioned at best, but almost always somewhat strained. I was still questioning whether or not the rationalism was something I could look past in good conscience until I read the transcript (I never actually watched it) for the episode "One Day, One Room," where House convinces a young Christian woman to have an abortion after a rape. She argues that abortion is murder, and that she finds comfort in believing that there will one day be retribution (her character obviously written by someone who's knowledge of Christianity begins and ends with Dan Brown). House answers her by saying that God either doesn't exist, or that He is unimaginably cruel; if He does exist and is good, he wouldn't expect her to keep her "rape baby." My heart sank. Such a brillient, educated, well-written show had lost its integrity by falling into the anti-religious and liberal propaganda cliche that drives almost all art in Hollywood these days.

Nonetheless, I was intrigued by the premise of a following episode (which aired last Tuesday), in which Dr. House tries to convince a patient to end her crisis pregnancy. Since in almost every show the conflict is resolved when everyone finally agrees with House, which would imply that the mother would eventually give in and act according House's professional opinion, the end seemed tragically predictable. I wasn't optimistic. But my curiosity got the better of me, so I watched it, expecting it to be the last time I ever sat down to this show (if you want to be suprised by the ending, don't read what follows).

The episode is aptly named "Fetal Position." A 39 year old woman falls ill because of a rare disorder where the mother's body mirrors the distress of her baby. Her baby had an oversized bladder and undersized lungs, and was dying; as a result of the mother's disorder, the baby's illness was causing the mother to die as well. The dilemma: remove the baby at 21 weeks before the child is viable, thereby killing the baby, or both the mother and baby would die. The writers cleverly chose one of the most difficult moral scenarios for pregnancy, almost on par with a fallopean pregnancy, to complicate the situation.

Throughout the entire episode, Dr. House insists that the baby is a thing, a parasite, and not yet a person. He recommends a D & C (shutter!), but the mother won't hear of it, despite his insistence. Luckily for the mother and baby, Dr. Cuddy, House's boss, is an older woman also desperately trying to get pregnant, and therefore does everything she can to save the baby. Her emotions seem to be getting the better of her judgement, and she is portrayed as irrational. Nonetheless, after a series of extremely dangerous tests and procedures, Cuddy finds a sollution that may possibly save the baby. House recommends fetal surgery, while still blatently mocking Cuddy for calling it a baby.

So they perform the surgery, as follows:

To recap in case YouTube pulls the video for copywrite infringement, in the middle of the surgery, the baby reaches up and grabs House's finger, and he is visibly taken aback. The surgery continues, and the child lives. Believably, House hides any change in his attitude from his collegues, and the extent of the change is questionable. Also believably, in his last conversation with the mother, he calls it a baby for the first time in the episode. The show ends with him back at his appartment, staring questioningly at his fingers.

Can this episode, where the humanity of an unborn fetus is visibly shown to the point to where a pro-choice doctor questions his own view on the subject, justify a previous episode where that same doctor convinced a woman to have an abortion? I don't know. Is the network simply trying to cover its own rear-end by offending both sides instead of taking one stand? More than likely someone in the FOX's publicity department has that in mind. But the main character has been permenantly changed -- although we don't yet know the extent of that change. In any event, this change is significant.

The important question is, could House again convince a woman that abortion is the best way out now that the question of the unborn child's humanity has been raised in his mind? From the perspective of character development, the answer to this question is fundemental to whether or not the writers of the show are using a previously pro-choice character as a catylist for an ultimately pro-life objective. If nothing else, it is raising the right questions. Everything hinges on where they take it from this point on.

I'm hopeful, but I'm not going to hold my breath. The overall ethical nature of the show is too far from perfect for me to trust that it will take such a violent turn towards conservatism. Be that as it may, the choice to show an unborn hand was a bold one, so I'll remain cautiously optimistic for the time being.

Our Lady of Guadalupe, pray for us!

"Mary Poppins"

2007-04-08T16:57:00.000-07:00

A kindly nanny with magical powers -- clearly not as innocent a concept as we all thought. Hide your children.

"O, Sacred Head Surrounded"

2007-04-06T14:43:00.000-07:00

O sacred head, surrounded

by crown of piercing thorn!

O bleeding head, so wounded,

reviled and put to scorn!

Our sins have marred the glory

of thy most holy face,

yet angel hosts adore thee

and tremble as they gaze

I see thy strength and vigor

all fading in the strife,

and death with cruel rigor,

bereaving thee of life;

O agony and dying!

O love to sinners free!

Jesus, all grace supplying,

O turn thy face on me.

"This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship"

2007-03-20T18:19:00.000-07:00

When all is said and done, nothing can solve the world's problems better than movies reenacted in thirty seconds by bunnies.

The Order of Music

2007-03-20T17:35:00.000-07:00

I've learned a long time ago, and have been reminded recently:), that being rashly opinionated most often turns badly for me. However, since, as Saint Therese says, few things are more beneficial to the soul than public humiliation, I'll take another go at it. It is Lent after all.

I have never been able to understand how beat, rhythm, and melody could be objectively disordered. Yet when children become addicted to drugs, sex, alcohol, and satan worship, one of the primary culprits is disordered music. But what makes music so disordered? How can pure objective sound and beat in the physical world -- not taking into account lyrics -- affect the spiritual soul in such a violently negative way? To me, this attribution seems rather, in some cases at least, as if something external is being blamed to avoid admitting to the true internal cause, which is harder to face. Children who engage in addictive behavior are unhappy and without hope, and are usually dealing with some sort of repression, not the aftermath of listening to a beat; the loud music is more often than not a means to drown an already existing pain.

According to the argument, what makes music, specifically rock music, objectively disordered is a constant, rhythmic beat which is said to naturally invoke our animalistic tendencies in a way that classical music does not. It numbs our senses (allegedly), makes the ratio of the intellect lessen towards our appetites -- not unlike alcohol. However (not to compare apples and oranges), if alcohol in moderation is seen as a good thing, why not rock music, if the effects on the soul are the same? There is clearly nothing wrong with the effect if alcohol is deemed acceptable; what then makes the alternative cause of the effect so much more harmful? Especially considering that the effect of rock music in moderation is temporary, whereas each drop of alcohol permenantly damages brain cells.

Another objection is that the disorder of the musician intrinsically affects the music itself; because music touches our soul in a way that other things do not, we therefore absorb this disorder into ourselves. I personlly have a difficult time buying this, being as Mozart was a drug-addicted alcoholic Free Mason who died in his 30s because he had run his own body and soul into the ground.

Admitedly, it is imprudent to say that music is always good, and rock music itself can objectively be a problem for a variety of reasons. Played loudly, it causes hearing loss (obviously). Moreover, often, teenagers who are troubled will gravitate towards rock music, partly due to the undertone of rebellion (which is caused by the desire to regain lost control or stability), and partly because the constant noise can help them not think of the pain they are in; however, this latter point is not, in my experience at least, limited to rock music.

When it comes to hip-hop, rap, and techno, moreover, much of it is written in the context of getting it on like rabbits. It's my belief that if any music is causing problems today, it's these. However, even in these cases, it is the individual artists -- not the artform -- who are perverting the art to make it purely animalistic. The artform itself is not the problem.

The primary contest against music with a heavy beat -- in Christian circles, at least -- is that the beat itself objectively opens the individual up to opression (which, as I understand it, is like possession, except it is unintentional -- it is the kind of "possesion" that some of the saints experienced; an example of this is depicted, albeit with questionable accuracy, in the movie The Exorcism of Emily Rose). If you were to listen to a rock song that was written and performed by satanists, this could possibly happen. But opression can only take place when an individual is taking part in some form of spiritualism, or has unintentionally (therefore without any adverse affect to the soul) come in contact with a person place or thing that has been involved in something spiritualistic or satanic. It cannot be caused by a purely physical phenomena; we live in a post-Incarnation world, and the devil simply does not have that kind of power unless God has a good reason to permit it. The only way the rock beat could objectively make us more spiritully vulnerable is if we were to listen to it constantly with the purpose of silencing our prayer life, and even then other factors would have to be present as well.

And these other factors are crucial, and can do plenty of damage without the presence of rock music. The reason rebellious teenagers began to gravitate towards rock music is not because there is something intrinsically inherent in the beat that attracts the sinful, but because they were rebelling directly against the Christian fundementalists of the south (who, coincidentally, were racists -- not that I'm saying that people who believe rock music is disordered are racists, because that would be silly). These fundementalists considered music with a heavy beat -- a beat which had been carried over by their African slaves -- the music of the devil.

This unfounded scrupelosity attracted rebellion, as almost all Puritanical scrupelosity does. The reason, for instance, Salem is full of witchcraft is because extreme scrupelosity eventually breeds rebelious behavior because it is fundementally based on pride and a desire to take control. It therefore implies a lack of trust in God. This leads to a loss of hope, which is diametrically opposed to Divine Mercy, which is the height of virtue that opens us up to the Grace of God. On the other hand, loss of hope, or despair, is the height of vice, and extreme loss of hope opens the soul up like nothing else in this world can. Like I said in the beginning, loss of hope is more difficult to face up to than the influence of something outside of ourselves -- such as rock music -- because hopelessness and pride are more linked than any two sins.

For this reason, I believe that it is more dangerous to teach that music -- or anything for that matter -- has the power to bypass our free will and corrupt our souls than it is to listen to rock music in moderation, especially when those who make this claim admit that the issue is not black and white. Making such a generalization about boundaries which are so subjective can lead to an unhealthy fear of evil in the physical world, for when scrupelosity is extreme it has the nasty habit of spreading to all of our senses to the point to where we fear that even God cannot protect us.

Special thanks to my brother, my sister-in-law, my little niece, and my friend Dominic who did stellar job tweaking the photo.

What in Middle Earth?

2007-03-16T21:46:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what I should think about this.

And yes, they sing. It is a musical.

The Art of Socialism? Hardly!!!!

2007-03-16T18:33:00.000-07:00

There was once a time where I had an inkling of economics, and the overall benefits of the free market system. Now, as I start to engage in in-depth discussions on the matter, I can feel the blank look on my face, and the confussion setting in. I mourn the days when I almost minored in political science, and find myself purusing books on economics, however out of place they seem amidst my collection of O'Conner, Williams, Shakespeare, and Warton. Admitedly, one of the main challenges I faced in college -- as I found particularly when I attempted to take Metaphysical poetry along side classical economics -- was that I was required to use two sides of my brain, and my economic brain was sadly under-exercised in comparison to my literature brain, especially since my literature teachers and classmates either were distributist economists (if there is such a thing) or they neither knew nor gave a hoot about economics in any shape or form.

So I leave college, theoretically prepared for the world. I pursue literature and music; and what do I find? Socialists! Everywhere, socialists! Why is it that all artists today are socialists? They claim that it is because they refuse to compromise their art by putting price on it in the name of capitalism; maybe I could take them more seriously if, in not "selling out," most of what they produced wasn't sheer egotistical badness on wheels.

On rereading this, I realized that I should clarify that I don't think that all artists must market if they are not, at that time, equipped to distribute their art for one reason or another, or if they simply don't have the desire to share their art. I'm also not saying that all artists who avoid marketing are doing so out of insecurity (if they are good artists). What I am saying is that artists should not fear that marketing their work will inevetibly lead to comprimising the work of art itself, or "selling out."

Even in Catholic circles, good artists are never discovered because of their belief that marketing and true art are not compatible. They argue that marketing means "selling-out" -- period; putting a price on a work of art is like putting a price on a child. And I understand how this feels. There are few things worse than, after showing your work of art to someone, having it of art ripped to shreds, or modified, or tweaked so that it might be more "sell-able." And, admitedly, editors and producers have been known, on occasion, to suck the marrow out of a brillient work of art for the sake of profit. However, in my experience with having my artistic babies slashed to pieces, oftentimes they were slashed to pieces because, to be frank, they were ugly babies (sorry for the unpleasent imagery, but that's the best way to describe it). I have learned a great deal about how to produce good art from having my work edited and my favorite pieces cut out and thrown to the dogs (whether or not I always agree with those particular decisions . . .). If it wasn't for the editors, F. Scott Fitzgerald would be illegible to the point to where his brilliance would never see the light of day (and true art is meant to be shared).

Except in the case of real artists, the fear of marketing one's work in the capitalist world is, I think in some cases at least, more a fear of being objectively criticized than it is a fear of selling out. There are some fantastic independant artists, and I applaud them for being able to make a living with art the hard way; but for every talented artist, there are about a 1,000 more artists who really need to reevaluate how they spend their time. It makes sense, sadly, since we live in an age where people lack the ability to accept criticism because they are conditioned into the a delussional understanding of their own self worth.

This spring, I am returning to Italy, in part to see if music school is for me. I will have a book on economics in tow, and hopefully I will be able to avoid being sucked in to the vortex that is socialism.

St. Thomas More, prega per noi!

The Poetry of Truth

2007-03-06T13:01:00.000-08:00

The difference between philosphy and poetry is that philosophy reveals and identifies, while poetry reveals the unidentifiable. This is why a good poet must be a philosopher, while a philosopher must not necessarily be a poet. Often, the more literalistic philosopher downplays the importance of poetry for the very reason that he cannot see the truth of poetry, because he cannot identify it. However, the purpose of all good art is to touch upon something that is far greater than human experience can acheive on this earth. Poetry acheives what philosophy aims for, which is truth. The only difference is that the truth acheived by poetry is so profound, it is inexpressible. This is a testament to the mysterious power of poetry, for the poet has the ironic talent of using words to express a truth for which there are no words.

The nature of detachment.

2007-02-22T16:12:00.000-08:00

Virtue means loving God above everything else. The more you love God, the more you hate evil, and the more you are inclined to avoid it.

However, there's a confusing catch here that the devil often seems to try and get us on to make us detest evil in a way that can actually draw us from loving God; this is most dangerous, because we think that we are being virtuous, and therefore have a difficult time changing our ways. If we love God, we detest evil in ourselves, but evil from outside sources cannot affect us unless God wills it because, since we love God, we see beauty in every soul, and in all of creation and art. Moreover, we are given the strength to not be affected by things that are imperfect. Throughout art and experience, we find that the lover sees nothing but beauty, even if they are surrounded by muck.

This love of God and sensitivity to beauty around us isn't blindness to evil. Rather, it is a perpetual and conscious choice to ignore the devil, because nothing irks the devil more; it also shows our confidence in God to protect us from whatever ends up in our path.

There is one theory that detachment stems from the sensitivity to evil, to the extent that we remove everything that has the least sign of corruption. This theory that we cannot protect ourselves from the corruption around us leads naturally to scrupelosity, which then digresses to a loss of hope in God's goodness and His ability to pull us out from whatever situation we are in. Scrupelosity then causes us to rely on our own powers to overcome evil, which consequently makes detachment pretty much useless. This severe condemnation of everything containing imperfection, on the part of the Puritan and Jansonist movements, has resulted in nihilistic, self-sustaining mentality that currently drives modern society (this is not, of course, to say that we should look for or remain in occasions of sin -- that's a whole different matter).

Detachment, therefore, is not the detestation of everything that has evil in it; nor is it the belief that goodness and beauty is nulled by the presence of imperfection and mankind's fallen nature. We can be overly attached to something that is purely good; this is because being overly attached has nothing to do with the object to which we are attached, but rather to our desire to be in control of our own lives. Detachment means being of this world, but being more interested in things Divine, to the point to where we recognize that we don't need the material world to get to Heaven, yet still recognize and take joy in the fact that the good in persons and things is there for the purpose of leading us to Heaven.

You find that people who are growing in the spiritual life will start to listen to modern music less, watch less TV, read more spiritual books and fewer secular books. Yet they won't necessarily tell you that it is because these things are evil that they are avoided them, but instead because they value God more, and have simply lost interest in things of lesser quality.

Got Nature?

2007-02-04T14:26:00.000-08:00

The Unseen Truth

2007-01-26T20:32:00.000-08:00

I'm failing in this shadowed place
Faltering as I steal a glance
As these troubled waters fill my room.
All things become undone,
With nothing to erase.

And towards an Eden, aged in snow
Finds a perfect loveliness.
Whispers cross into the night beneath
I find myself alone,
For I am here, below.

Unfashioned by a hidden road,
Of followers in silence;
A reverential awe grows dimmer
To eyes of stone and earth,
Yet not where truth has flowed.

For every glance turns all things new,
And shadows fail in beauty.
This fallen soul becomes Another.
To Age, this youth does sting;

Truth finds a blessed few.

Irony

2007-01-12T13:54:00.000-08:00

Why is it that the more opinionated a person is, the more often they get something wrong? Why is it that opinionated people are more often wrong than people who have no opinions on anything whatsoever? The more a person values his or her own opinion, the more their opinion decreases in value (I really did want to use the word "opinion" five times in three sentences).

I do realize that this is a criticism that applies just as much to myself as to the next person by the very fact that I am pointing it out.

Maybe it's just the fact that when we stop moving forwards towards truth, we fall backwards. Being satisfied and pretentious with the knowledge that we have causes us to know less.

Just an observation.

The Virtue of Trust

2007-01-07T18:11:00.000-08:00

"Me? I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you have to watch out for because you can never predict when they're going to do something completely . . . stupid."
~Pirates of the Caribbean*

"There's nothing to live with but mendacity."
~Tennessee Williams, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

It is a very difficult thing for some to learn that, when it comes down to it, there is not a single person on this planet who can be trusted completely (maybe there's one, but I've never met him). Ironically, it is fear of losing control (stemming, like everything else, from pride) that causes a person to depend on the trustworthiness of another, a dependency that will inevitably prove to be futile. Through the grace of God, we one day discover the ugliness of disordered trust, and in so doing, we discover an ugly part of ourselves. "So that disgust with mendacity is really disgust with myself" (Tennessee Williams, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof).

Part of the process of overcoming this, moreover, is cutting off all feelings of trust and dependancy on anyone. Living life not trusting anyone to the point to where our connections to people are dramatically altered is part of a purifying step that ultimately leads to trust in God alone, so long as it is not too often sidetracked by bitterness. It therefore isn't any wonder that the more we trust in Christ, the more we are purified by Divine Charity; as a result, we find our ability to trust in others returned, but it is not a trust based on dependancy, but rather one of self-sacrifice and love for the other person.

Trust as a virtue is not the act of grossly depending on another, and in return, having them validate us as a human being. It is not blind trust of another's opinion, whereby when an opinion is offered, you either take it completely as true, or if you don't agree with it, you lose your capacity for legitimate friendship with that person.

True Christian Charity, rather, requires true Christian trust. Real trust involves knowing the risk, making yourself vulnerable, not because you need that person to validate you, but because you love that person. It is an act of the will, an act of surrendering yourself. You trust a person, knowing that they are not only capable of betraying your trust, but will likely do so at some point in time, whether by telling you a white lie, or betraying you in a more serious way. That is one of the greatest risks of true love. It is a profoundly intentional sacrifice. This is not to say that trust means giving your life savings to a compulsive gambler, or marrying someone who is a compulsive lier and habitual adulterer (virtues don't stem from stupidity, after all). However, we should trust when we can, within reason and prudence. This is because trust that stems from prudent Christian charity motivates honesty, even in the most stubbornly dishonest.

*(Yes, quoting this movie to support a point makes me a nerd. Especially when it doesn't actually support my point)

Christmas

2006-12-25T13:41:00.000-08:00

These pictures make my nieces and nephews look much calmer than reality.

Buon Natale!

Coventry Carol

2006-12-23T17:43:00.000-08:00

Lullay, Thou little tiny Child,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Lullay, Thou little tiny Child.
By, by, lully, lullay.

O sisters, too, how may we do,
For to preserve this day;
This poor Youngling for whom we sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.

Herod the King, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day;
His men of might, in his own sight,
All children young, to slay.

Then woe is me, poor Child, for Thee,
And ever mourn and say;
For Thy parting, nor say nor sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.

Author unknown

The Weight of Glory

2006-12-17T16:03:00.000-08:00

I believe that one of the fundemental problems of today's society, and consequently part of the fundemental sollution, lies in the following excerpt from C.S. Lewis. This especially applies to American Catholics, who gain the spirit of Christianity from the Puritan Protestants; this is notably ironic since Puritans are called Puritans because they wished to purify themselves of anything associated with the Catholic Church. As a result, the Puritan and Jansenist attitude towards Christianity causes American Catholics to focus on the depraved state of fallen humanity more than on the Love contained in the Incarnation, and as a result, they insult and deeply sadden the very God Whom they are trying to do right by.

~~~

If you asked twenty good men what they thought the highest of virtues, nineteen of them would reply, Unselfishness. But if you asked almost any of the great Christians of old he would have replied, ‘Love’. You see what has happened? A negative term has been substituted for a positive, and this is of more than philological importance. The negative ideal of Unselfishness carries with it the suggestion not primarily of securing good things for others, but of going without them ourselves, as if our abstinence and not their happiness was the important point. I do not think this is the Christian virtue of Love. The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not about self-denial as an end in itself. We are told to deny ourselves and to take up our crosses in order that we may follow Christ; and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to desire. If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith.
~C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

The fear of ignorance and the nature of true knowledge

2006-12-07T14:59:00.000-08:00

I wonder whether, in ages of promiscuity, many a virginity has not been lost less in obedience to Venus than in obedience to the lure of caucus. For, of course, when promiscuity is the fashion, the chaste are outsiders. They are ignorant of something that other people know. They are uninitiated. And as for lighter matters, the number who first smoked or first got drunk for a similar reason is probably very large.
C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, "The Inner Ring."

It is true that promiscuity today is as rampant as it is due to the desire to be on the "in" of things, whereby we feel like we are leading a full life, or at least whereby no one knows how uninformed we really are about the ways of the world. It is fallen human nature to ultimately desire to have some knowledge that someone else does not have, although we are even more afraid of not knowing something that everyone else seems to know (no matter how useless and mundane the information is). Like one of my former professors once said, purity is seen by society as a sign of immaturity: something we grow out of, not in to.

The problem with this kind of "maturity" is that it comes from sensual "knowledge," which only gives us knowledge of particulars, which become more particular the more we dwell on them. Such knowledge is only contained in feelings, emotions, sights, sounds, and the senses. Isn't an animal's experience the same?

True knowledge comes from knowing ourselves as human beings. Notice how mature people are those who don't give into their inclinations at every whim, but who hold back. Wisdom and strength are seen in people who, after suffering a tremendous loss, still truly empathize with others without being consumed by their own feelings. If such a person were to really run with the "experience" which results from giving the passions free reign, they would become so consumed in agony that they would lose perspective of everything that is good. Despair, or people who are close to it, do not gain "experience" or even wisdom from their suffering, but lose the essential knowledge of the truth that God exists, and that He desires their salvation (I'm not referring to the Dark Night of the Soul here, which may at times feel like despair, but it is guided by Grace: rather, to the lack of receptivity to Grace, which is the fundamental cause of true and complete despair). It is the very hope in God's mercy that makes it possible for us to know ourselves completely, whereas once we lose that hope, we no longer understand anything about human existence. Any experience that a person recovering from such a state does attain is in the act of rebuilding himself, piece by piece, and rediscovering the truth of God and consequently his own dignity as a human being. Therefore, there can be great wisdom and Grace in the experience of being rebuilt by Christ after being in such a state, for it is another "quality of mercy" that the greater the fall, the greater the Miracle of Redemption (consider St. Augustine). Nevertheless, the great danger and offense to God that comes from despair makes it a state to be avoided at all costs.

Controlling how we act in response to our emotions is not repression. Rather, the more we control how we act in relation to our passions, the more we understand them, their function in our spiritual and emotional growth, and the more we understand their role in our humanity. Repressive disorders are not caused by parents telling a little boy to not hit his sister when he is angry at her; it comes when the little boy is taught that it is wrong to be angry. The same applies to sexuality. A person is not a whole person because he has killed the desires of the flesh. A whole person is one who has learned to "die to the world" by acting despite the desires of the flesh; this is because the more we are receptive to the Grace of the Redemption, the more we grow closer to our state of preternatural humanity, where man had control over his faculties.

When Christians have the knowledge that virtue and self-control brings, who as St. Paul says, have "put on the armor of Christ," we find that they are the ones with the hidden knowledge of some secret that no one else has the "in" on. Yet, unlike people who hold on to sensual knowledge like they own it, Christians are not possessive of their privilege, but rather intrinsically desire to share it with the world.

Jane Austen is rolling over -- a discussion of womanhood and what it means to be a man

2006-11-29T19:22:00.000-08:00

"The most incomprehensible thing in the world to a man is a woman who rejects his offer of marriage."
Jane Austen, Emma

I am sorry to say, but this entry applies to real life (thankfully a rare occurrence). It's bad enough when us ladies have to deal with the modern, untamed, unshowered, unruly, and sex-obsessed boys. The opposite extreme of unrealistically idealizing woman can actually be just as demeaning, especially since it occurs with men who should know better.

According to St. Louis Mary De Monfort, when a man treats Mary with indifference, he is rejected by Christ. Jesus respected Mary's word at Cana, because it is a woman's right to give her consent, even when it comes to God. God even asked Mary for her permission to send His Son into the world using her as a vessel, which implies her immense dignity; God gave Mary the right to say no, even though the consequences would have been extreme.

Yes, a woman is subject to her husband. But she is subject to her husband -- not all men. No man has the right to tell her what to do unless she allows him that privilege. It is man's role to protect the physically weaker sex; it by no means undermines her strength in other areas, such as virtue, purity, prudence, wisdom, intelligence etc. It is not through lack of purity or self-control that she needs protection, moreover; rather, it is because she is more vulnerable physically, and must often bear the shame of an action that she did not even consent to. St. Joseph, before learning the truth, sought to protect Mary's reputation. This shows that, regardless of a woman's virtue, it is man's role protect and respect women before judging them, regardless of their culpability or fault.

Moreover, it is customary (traditionally . . .) for a man to ask a lady's consent to dance, to go on a date, or to marry her, not from a social technicality, but because it is a woman's inherent right to approve or reject the man who she will be subject to for the rest of her life. A man has to earn a woman's trust if he wants the right to take care of her, and this need to earn her trust is what teaches him the meaning of true chivalry. However, if a man treats a woman disrespectfully, for instance, calling her a feminazi for speaking her mind, he has no concept of chivalry. Just as a man treating Mary with indifference loses Heaven, a man who treats a woman with indifference and disrespect loses her trust, and thereby he loses his his capacity to be a gentleman. It is a woman's right, and it always has been to reject a man if he doesn't suit her. Until a woman allows a man to be her lord and master, she is the one who has the authority. And even in marriage, she has authority, although it is a passive one -- non-critical, yet strong; and a marriage cannot survive so long as the man does not respect and appreciate the woman and all the beauties God has given her (which includes an intelligent mind and a strong will); not only because this lack of appreciation causes strife in the family, but because it causes the man to lose his manhood, for it is the wife's trust that makes it possible for him to be a man.

Even in literature, woman were idealized, not only as something that woman should aspire to, but as a reflection of the internal beauty of their nature.

A man who, in convoluting the idea of Christian femininity, treats a "common" woman with indifference, and judges her for having an opinion, and is idealistically waiting for one of the elves from Lothlorien to suddenly appear on his doorstep accompanied by angels and winged horses, is in for a very long wait. What he doesn't realize is that, the more virtuous the woman, the more she will reject someone who doesn't know how to respect women. The only kind of girls they will get are ones who are so painfully insecure that they are willing to put up with abuse rather than suffer rejection. Why else would a woman want to attach herself to a man who constantly puts her down for her intelligence?

Notice how, in the above picture, the knight kneels before the woman to receive his knighthood. The only other time we kneel is before God, or when we are being blessed by a priest. We don't kneel before God because He is subject to us; we kneel before God because we are asking Him to help us become who we are more perfectly. And this is why a man kneels before a woman when he proposes; because she has the power to make him become the man that God intended him to be.

Motherhood Challenged?

2006-11-22T19:03:00.000-08:00

The recent events of the mother who was kicked off of the airplane makes me want to complain, and also write something on my blog, especially since I've run out of other things to talk about.:)

Just focusing on the practical standpoint, does anyone have the right to tell a women how and when she should feed or not feed her child? What could justify such a thing? The child was 22 months -- a little older than some, but by no means unheard of for a child still breastfeeding; 1-2 years is generally the norm. Moreover, I've seen many a child throw a hissy fit when they are covered when they are trying to nurse, and I've seen woman become much more exposed in the process of trying. The mother probably knew this, but probably didn't feel it necessary to tell the stewardess this because, frankly, it was none of the stewardess' business.

But the stewardess has at least a point. I'm not arguing that women should flaunt without any scruple or discretion (modesty should always rule, when practical). Moreover, some people can handle "exposure" better than others. Period. Even for other woman, too much information can be unpleasant. It is important, regardless of ones beliefs, to respect others, and behave accordingly. It's simply common courtesy.

However, even when a woman is discreet when she is breastfeeding, is an objection to it still justified? This leads to a more serious, and telling, question.

We live in an era where there are few people who enter into marriage not having seen the naked body of the opposite (and same) gender first hand, or at least in a graphic movie. You go to the beach where woman who look more provocative covered in flimsy and stringy material than they would if they were sunbathing in the buff. I have had guy friends tell me how disturbed they were when, going to the pool, they saw virtually everything because the woman's barely existing bathing suit was barely staying on. People make sex-tapes of themselves, and then watch the sex-tapes of others (regardless of their consent). Woman are told not only to accept the fact that men "need" porn, but we are encouraged to encourage them to pleasure themselves with it. I remember being 16, riding in an airplane, and traumatized by a woman next to me who was reading Cosmo, pausing on the most graphic pages so she could study them thoroughly (I doubt she would have been kicked off if she refused to stop reading it). Why, then, does a woman have to be "courteous" and cover herself up in front of people who regularly stare at breasts (and more!) for the sake of both arousal and entertainment?

If you think about it, of all the sexual organs of the body, the breast is the only one that is actually beautiful, or at least it is the least offensive. But it isn't the sight of a "sex" organ in public that offends. It is because our culture has sexualized the breast to the extreme, and therefore the sight of a child being fed from the breast is disturbing. Breastfeeding is a purely natural act; and it is the convoluted perception of sexuality that causes us to be disturbed when see a pure and innocent child gaining nourishment from something that, in society's mind, has become so perverted.

What not to do while driving.

2006-11-11T16:12:00.000-08:00

I don't recommend this . . .

The Irony of Piety

2006-11-11T11:24:00.000-08:00

It's funny when you actually decide to buckle down and attempt holiness. You say, "God, do whatever it takes to make me overcome this or that flaw, to do my duty, to go wherever I need to go in life. God, point me in the right direction, and I'll follow."

And then he puts you in a position where you have two choices: accept God's Will and be at peace, or reject it and be miserable. He's making it easy for you. He's showing you the right direction. He's actually quite clear about His intentions. It's the moment you've been waiting for. Why, then, does God have to drag you kicking and screaming?

Piety seems easy, but only so long as we are in control of our own piety. Thing is, true piety has nothing to do with us doing anything. It has to do with completely letting go, and following. We ask God for the grace to love Him, and to abandon our will to His, but we don't pay attention to the fact that we are often asking for the grace because want to be in control of our pius actions so that we can take credit for them.

That's why we often choose misery and anguish over simple acceptance of God's Will. We know that accepting God's Will will bring us peace, but we have such a tight hold on our desire to be in control that we will essentially throw a temper tantrum. We're like the little girl who won't eat her mashed potatoes, even though she is fully aware that by not doing so she will not get her jello. It doesn't even matter whether or not she likes mashed potatoes. But someone is telling her what to eat, and how to eat it, and that is the bone of contention.

Often we complain about God not being clear, not showing us exactly where we should be; then He does, and we say "Sorry, wrong answer God, try again. I want You to tell me where I should be, but I reject your current analysis of what I should do, and I want a new one."

We ask for piety, but we forget what we're asking for. He always answers when we ask; ironically, it's the fact that He answers that causes us to object.

Santa Therese di Lisieux, prega per noi.

Snow

2006-11-09T17:24:00.000-08:00

As winter approaches, poets often like to take the time to reflect on the beauties and mysteries of the earth in winter as it sleeps beneath a blanket of snow. Not going into the lack of original thought that usually goes into such accolades, as a Virginian, I have a slightly different take on this lovely season.

Perhaps it was because I had actually taken the time to enjoy autum, unlike in previous years where I was either more concerned with work or with school (I still work, but I've recently learned to ignore that fact), but the bare trees took me by suprise. For all intents and purposes, it's winter.

By winter, I don't mean the winter that you see in movies like "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers," with lovely blankets of snow that keep us home and force us to notice it and enjoy it.

I'm talking about a Virginian winter. Sometimes cold, sometimes hot, so no matter how well you plan you will inevitably find yourself dismantling or adding to your outfit throughout the day. And the trees! A nudist colony is an ugly sight in the human world, and it's an ugly sight in the natural world too. In our post-fallen state, all of the created world, not just man, should simply not be left naked. Animals have fur for a reason. People wear clothes. That is because nakedness is such mass quantities will always be unappealing, and that's all there is to it.

Snow is there to cover what cannot cover itself. Modesty makes beautiful what is ugly. And then it should melt just as the leaves come out, so we never have to be left with the ugly naked trees. Of course, that's when Virginia decides that it's a good time to dump a blizzard on us. Right when we're tired of the cold, i.e. in March when it's supposed to be getting warm, it snows. Pretty, right? But then it melts just enough; what doesn't melt looks dirty, and what does melt freezes, making driving something that only daredevils should do.

It's a good thing that Virginian winters have Christmas is all I've got to say. And the ACLU wants to take that away from us too. They should live in Virginia for a winter before saying whether or not we should be allowed to have something to look forward to in this dreary season.

I love Virginia. It's just that 24 winters in a row have taken their toll, and the time had come to vent.

The White Stag returns

2006-11-01T15:44:00.000-08:00

When all is said and done, it's always important to remember that there is still some magic in the world.

The Art of Waiting

2006-10-31T17:59:00.000-08:00

But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy
Lie further off; in human modesty,
Such separation as may well be said
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid,
So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend:
Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end!
~William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

This is always a tricky subject, and I'm not sure how to introduce it without sounding preachy, judgemental, etc. I've never really been tested, so I'm the last person to judge. Anyhow, here goes:

I always thought that it would be very difficult for me to marry a man who had lost his virginity. This is not to say that it would be a determining factor; if I loved him, I could look past it, and I could not in good conscience look down on him and resent him for it. But it would be difficult. Once you sleep with someone, that person forever has something with you that no one can ever take away. The idea of another woman walking around, carrying with her something that should absolutely and rightfully be mine, the one thing that I have a God-given right to selfishly refuse to share seems too much to give.

But then I thought about if I married a widow, and somehow that didn't bother me at all (now, if the man is one of those guys who makes himself into a widow, that's a whole other story . . .). I wondered why.

Perhaps wanting to marry someone who hasn't been with anyone else is more than just a selfish desire to get there first and claim your territory. It's because when sex is a gift, it is always the "first" time. When a spouse dies, the gift does not die. She had a right to him, and now his new spouse has that right. She is giving his new spouse the right to be with him. It therefore lacks the distasteful quality of him having had a lover to whom he wasn't married. She may regret it -- she may be a saint now -- but the fact remains that she has what never should have been hers. She owns what belongs to you alone, and you will never get it back. Society tells us that we should spread our seed, and have as much experience as possible before settling with one person; but anyone who believes this is kidding himself. The more that is scattered, the more that is lost, and the less you will have to give to the one who your meant to be with until death.

Frankly, I'm not sure what my vocation is, so this whole thing may not even be relevant to me.

Please say a Hail Mary for vocations!

In Defense of Art, Diversity, and Catholicism.

2006-10-11T13:27:00.000-07:00

"Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace."
Oscar Wilde

One of the more interesting arguments against Catholicism, from an artistic perspective, is that in living by a single truth, diversity is limited. But what about the alternative?

If you believe that there is no God, no objective truth, how is infinite diversity possible? Even the abyss of the universe is finite. And the answer isn't simply to do what hasn't been done. If art is simply pushing the limits and doing what no one else has done, you're being original without being creative. Art becomes limited to the created world, by the created world.

In the converse, when art is meant to more than entertain, when it reaches towards objective truth, towards God, it is appealing to something that is infinitely more vast than the created universe. God is infinite, and He Himself is an artist. When art moves toward God, there will necessarily be elements in it that would be impossible to achieve by appealing to nature alone. Even when agnostic artists achieve some level of supernatural beauty, it is through the grace of God, not nature. With God, the possibilities, to be cliché, are endless.

On a completely unrelated note, Oscar Wilde rules. Pace a tutti!

More Hannah

2006-09-30T13:56:00.000-07:00

Here's a link that my brother just put up this afternoon, for whoev's interested. Enjoy!

http://www.fossilmusic.com/hannah/

Hannah Juliette

2006-09-28T19:51:00.000-07:00

Here are some pictures of my latest niece, born yesterday afternoon. I'm totally in love with her. The younger girl holding her is my niece Bernadette. I'll try to get some better pictures when I have them. Keep them all in your prayers!

The Willful Narcolepsy of Hollywood

2006-09-10T13:41:00.000-07:00

Since I've been on my own, I've been happy enough to not have the temptation of cable, and consequently of flipping to the E! channel. When I do have access to it, however, I am somehow compelled to watch as who-knows-what-aged women with implants and hair extensions talk about who's hooking up with whom and who's shopping where (both on equal par). It is almost impossible to determine their ages, not only because of the complete facelifts and measurable thickness of make-up, but because the older they get, the more they speak with the crassness and immaturity of a very badly-behaved teenager.

Watching E! News Live, I feel like I am in highschool; they are the cool kids, the ones from the rich families, with the fancy scholarships, and with the best clothes in town . . . and we're the chess club, the ones with glasses, headgear, and matching sweatshirts. At least, that's what we're made to feel like. Our noses don't look like theirs; ours still have cartilage. That, in addition to the fact that we look, how should I put it, not like a silicon Barbie doll, puts us beneath their notice, and if we are graced with their notice, it is not for a flattering reason.

What a job! They probably went to a top college, and had all sorts of fascinating opportunities for journalism, newscasting, etc. And what are they doing? Telling the world about where Paris Hilton was last seen, showing clips of actors and actresses running away from the camera, which actress was seen coming out of which actor's home in the wee hours of the morning, or what Lindsey Lohan is saying about her feelings on the Iraq war (what she doesn't realize is that one of the reasons the Muslims love us so much is because of people like her). What artistry to talk about who Biffy is boffing today, to quote the Gilmore Girls (I think I'll pretend I don't know what "boffing" means . . .). What a way to spend your God-given talent!

Is Hollywood really this idolized by the public? I know I could care less about what flavor lip gloss Jessica Simpson is wearing this Fall, but are there people who do care? If no one cares, why are these shows still on the air? It is a show about the personal lives of people I don't know, and probably never will know, and it gives us information that is incomplete and selectively politically correct when it is accurate at all. Why is Hollywood still appealing?

In the Golden Age of cinema, the actors and actresses, though not always perfect, maintained class. Even if their personal lives were falling to shambles, they at least made the effort to put up a front that demonstrated the importance of giving the example of maintaining dignity. For this reason, in part, Hollywood became our royalty. They had their faults (artists, after all, aren't exactly known for being the most emotionally well-adjusted), but one could still respect them.

George Clooney made an interesting statement at this past Academy Awards. He said that people say that Hollywood does not represent the rest of the country. He then referenced the Academy Awards of 1939 when the wonderful actress Hattie McDanial (in one of my personally favorite roles of all time) became the first African American to win the award for Gone With the Wind. He said that Hollywood did not represent the rest of the country then, and he was right. Her taking that award was truly a beautiful moment.

However, George Clooney is missing something. Yes, Hollywood once stood heroically against the evils of the world. But what Mr. (albeit very handsome) Clooney does not realize is that, if Hollywood does have the power to stand up against the world, it therefore has a greater responsibility to do so. Hollywood was admirable in 1939 in many ways; but it is not so now. In 1939 it still had the capacity to stand against the evils of the world because it upheld the belief that femininity, gentlemanliness, and ultimately dignity were essential to humanity (not to mention the fact that religion and morality were still considered respectable); it was this sense of human dignity that gave them the capacity to see the injustice of segregation. But where is the dignity now, in a culture that has no bounds, where exposure rather than talent is key to success, where few children born can say that their mother and father were married when they were conceived, or that their mother and father were ever married at all, where strength and bravery consist of how close to nakedness you can get on the red carpet without "technically" exposing yourself? Does not Mr. Clooney realize that the Hollywood now bears little resemblance to the Hollywood of 1939?

I guess it just comes down to the fact that we should look to the Church for moral guidance and direction, the Church which has been solidly constant and consistent for 2000 years, and not to a culture of people who spend their lives pretending they are someone who they are not.

There is my rant for the week. Definitely a sign that I need to get out more. Ciao a tutti!

"A Sonnet of Love for a Plagiarist"

2006-09-05T20:23:00.000-07:00

Let not the marriage of true minds
Admit plagiarism. Thoughts are not Thoughts which
Alter when they websites find,
Or bend so socialists can remove.
Oh no: It is an ever fixed mark, that is a F,
And is never shaken. It is the spark to every
Wandering note , whose worth's unknown,
But whose ideas from pink monkeys were taken.
School's not time's fool, though rosy letter'd grades
Within communist interpretations come.
Grades alter not with these brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out, even to careers in fast-food.
Despite these errors, I shall see it proved,
Chimps never writ, and neither have you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's a little something that is unfortunately very relevant to my current occupation. Warning to ALL students: if you plagiarize, I will make fun of you. Just kidding. Really, I am.

"The Follower"

2006-09-03T15:06:00.000-07:00

Found beneath the aging air,
a river slowly moving
until the labyrinth does fair
against the age unsoothing.
A sickle bends, falling here,
into this ancient dwelling.
Aged and wise, yet not one dear
to call. But I'm foretelling;
whistling through the chambers far,
the air is cool, beguiling.
To stand in my own path, I bar
my joy; but joy to find in following.

~~~~~~~~~

I little poem I wrote a few months ago. Enjoy!

The Jagged Brick Wall

2006-08-24T13:44:00.000-07:00

What was the sort of "hole" man had got himself into? He had tried to set up on his own, to behave as if he belonged to himself. In other words, fallen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must lay down his arms.
~ C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Nothing is simple with God -- unfortunately, before the Fall we were made to cope with this fact, but we lost that ability to understand when we "uncreated" ourselves, so to speak. One moment, He wrenches our trust and love out of ourselves, and the next he gives us bliss, and not a moment later we are thrown against jagged brick wall, only to discover that the joy that we thought was from Him was either not from Him, or it was not truly joy. He teaches us to trust Him not always by answering our prayers, but sometimes by making our circumstances so desperate that we have no choice but to abandon our will to His; and once He finally has our love, He asks us to fling ourselves over a cliff and believe that He will catch us. Why is it that when we surrender, and say "Your Will is mine, Lord," the trials that we thought were meant only to make us say those words intensifies? C.S. Lewis has quite a lot to say on this matter.

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about
in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of -- throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.

I believe it was St. Theresa of Avila who said something to the effect that God sends special trials to the cowardly in order that they might not only overcome our fears, but learn that God is worth more of our consideration than anything we could possibly fear. Hense, part of the intimate and mysterious connection between the trials that God sends us and true sainthood.

There is a misconception in secular society -- which is so because it also exists significantly in religious society -- and that is the theory that the more we deny ourselves, the more we pray, and the more we receive the Sacraments -- in other words, the more externals we accomplish -- the greater a saint we will be (albeit the secularists equate this with superstition, and therefore reject such a spirituality). But the point is, true sainthood does not come from how often we beat ourselves, or even how often we pray or how often we receive the Sacraments, although these things, especially prayer and the Sacraments, are essential -- but an unrepentant sinner can receive the Sacraments everyday of his life; rather, it comes from the most blind trust in God's goodness, and to trust in His Will we must love Him. Granted, one of the most often repeated parables deals with this issue, so I realize that this is preaching to the choir; be that as it may, the connection between abandonment of the will and sainthood is worth repeating as it is often forgotten by everyone who is still alive (the saints themselves see the need repeat it often enough). And suddenly when this happens, self-denial, prayer, works of mercy, the Sacraments, the Eucharist, all of these things make sense, and we realize that all of these cannot be fulfilled unless we love God. The Sacraments can lead us to God, but we have them because we should love God, and because He loves us. They have unimaginable worth whether or not we receive them worthily, but the Sacraments, prayer, self-denial, all of these things are meant to be acts of love, and not just mechanical actions in and of themselves. Moreover, self-inflicted acts of piety are easy, however rigorous they might be, but are they alone sufficient in making us trust in God's goodness? One of the greatest litmus tests for answering this question is to ask ourselves how well we receive the sufferings that God gives us. This acceptance of God's suffering is what brings us back to the question of trust in God, which is intimately connected with our love of God, and which is thereby followed by the acts of love found in prayer, the Sacraments, and self-mortification. We love God because He teaches us how to love Him by making us trust Him; and from this all other acts of love follow.

But What we have now in mind is our joy related to the fact that the absolute Being is infinitely perfect and that this infinitely glorious Being is a Person . . . Humility calls upon us to allow our hears to be wounded by the glory of God, to fall on our knees in loving adoration, and to deliver ourselves over to God entirely. We must display that pure response in which our center of gravity is thus transferred from ourselves to God, so that His glory taken in itself, without any reference to His benevlence, becomes for us a source of precious joy: "My God and my all," said St. Francis of Assisi.
~Dietrich von Hilderbrand, Transformation in Christ

Please point out any heresy that I might be making. I was an English major, after all.

"Nostalgia isn't what it used to be"

2006-08-19T18:25:00.000-07:00

My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown;
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
~ William Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew

This time of year is becoming stranger every time it comes around, and stranger still because it is becoming more irrelevant to me. Six years ago, I came in as a freshmen to Christendom, feeling like an adult, thinking that over the next few years, I would just add information to what I already knew about life. I knew in theory that we learn about Christ and ourselves through pure generosity of ourselves, but I had no real concept of this. In light of what I thought the future held, nothing is like I thought it would be. Adulthood is harsher than I had expected, but like Tolkein's euchatastrophe, it is not the happiest ending, but a far better one. Watching students come to Christendom as young freshmen, full of hope, anticipation, fears . . . They have no idea how much they will have changed in the next year, not to mention in the next four years. From the time I was a freshmen to the time I was a junior, and from then until now, I developed a completely different perspective on everything in life. Not only have I turned a complete 180 since that time, but I have fallen into an alternate universe. Everything changed: how I know God, what I know about myself, how I approached relationships, how I came to understand the difference between being a girl and being a women. I learned a tremendous ammount from the classes, but the most indisspensible lessons often came outside of the class room. In Return to Modesty, Wendy Shallit shamelessly exposes not only the meaning of true feminine modesty, but how the dignity of real women is what elevates boys to manhood. Alice Von Hildebrand teaches us how this dignity is sanctified and elevated by Christ in the Blessed Virgin Mary. These books speak of what I have learned in life, but what I couldn't even begin to know at 18. In Italy, I learned the beauty of physical affection and open appreciation for the beauties of life; but in regards to human behavior, I learned how to be a woman. Shallit, Hildebrand, and the authors of The Rules teach us that women are passive, allowing men to take the initiative, which in turn teaches them to be men. The Italian gentlemen stand out, but what few people notice are the women; although they are filled with the passion for life characteristic of Italians, they are not like the men in the forwardness, but rather they conduct themselves with dignity and self-control. The Italian women, and these authors, and the real women in my life, have taught me that there is strength in passivity, in restraining the temptation to take the initiative, and in allowing ourselves to be protected.

When it comes down to it, the only thing better than being a grown-up is being a little kid. The only difference is that grown-ups get to drink martinis as a consolation prize. Pace e bene a tutti!

* The title of this article is by Sam Philips

St. Jude

2006-08-19T16:29:00.000-07:00

I have to say, all kudos to St. Jude. I had a prayer that needed to be answered, and had needed to be answered for a long time, but I always procrastinated on praying to St. Jude, despite how desperate the situation was getting. Finally, I did it, and of course, he answered my prayer on the day that the novena ended, several days after I thought that there was no more hope. As part of the prayer, I'm supposed to spread devotion to him and distribute the novena, so here it is.

Novena to St. Jude

Most Holy Apostle St. Jude Thaddeus, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the name of the traitor who delivered your beloved Master into the hands of the enemies has caused you to be forgotten by many but the Church honors and invokes you universally as the patron of hopeless cases and of things despaired of. Pray for me who am so needy; make use, I implore you of that particular privilege accorded to you to bring visible and speedy help where help is almost despaired. Come to my assistance in this great need that I may receive the consolations and succor of heaven in all my necessities, tribulations and sufferings particularly (here mention your petition) . . . and that I may bless God with you and all the elect throughout eternity. I promise you O blessed Jude to be ever mindful of this great favor and I will never cease to honor you as my special and powerful patron and to do all in my power to encourage devotion to you. Amen.

"Awakening in Winter"

2006-08-17T14:31:00.000-07:00

The greater the uncertainty
The more I cling to what is lost.
But I never wanted everything;
I never knew the cost.

This thirst unmoved to be fulfilled
By words that enter only dreams.
A future opens, hard and still,
And broken at the seams.

Refusing to be bound to this,
I shall forget what has been done;
This grey and aging, empty bliss
Renewed for life begun.

I wander like a little child
As the shadows of the world close in.
I turn away from love defiled,
A truth's Awakening begins.

The White Stag of Virginia

2006-08-07T17:19:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, I was at my parents' Bentonville house, having a difference of oppinion with one of my two very stubborn horses, when I looked up and saw a mother deer, with something that I at first thought must be a little white dog following it. Looking carefully, however, I realized that it was far too graceful, and realized that I was looking at a young, pure snow-white deer.

I think of how Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy followed the White Stag, and by doing so were taken back to the door of their own world. Perhaps if I can chase this young deer, the opposit will happen. Perhaps I will find my way to a door into Narnia, or some other magical place. One can only imagine . . .

"Wanderer"

2006-08-02T16:40:00.000-07:00

You wander through the failing light
Where shadows dance and fade
'Round the hollow where courage once was laid.
Yet in this night of frailty,
Though your soul cries out alone,
May you turn from haunted memories.

To see the world you've never known,
Through roads that wither thin,
You must challenge the fate that you have seen.
You're in your house of painted glass
Where you're sheltered but alone
As you wait for night that does not pass.

Refrain:
Wanderer,
You've strayed alone,
You've lost your way.

Against the night you bear the chill
As solace withers down.
You have silenced the thruth that you have found.
Wasted by the wake of years,
Of a life that stands alone,
You've lost the way, the way from here.

Refrain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's a little song I wrote a while back when I was in college. I'm usually not this depressing.

2006-07-28T17:26:00.000-07:00

"Lady in the Water"

I recently went to see M. Night Shyamalan's latest film, "Lady in the Water." As I walked out of the theatre, my first reaction was that I had no idea what my first reaction was. I was even somewhat inclined to not like it very much. Once I got back to my apartment, however, and started hashing it out with my roommate, I started to get a better idea of the grande scheme that Shyamalan was working towards. By the next morning, I thought it was one of his best, in some ways, the best.

Unlike most of his films, this one lacked his characteristic plot twist at the end, which I think is one of the main reasons why it was so unpopular. Even the climax (if it can be called that) was little more than a bringing to the surface something that we already knew about, and not a major revelation. It's easy to see how this was originally a children's story because the plot is unusually simple. From what I can tell, it seems that his films have been becoming increasingly less plot based, and more based on thematic elements; in some ways, the underlying message is becoming more clear than the story itself.

I think that the most striking thing about this movie was how he conveyed his perception of mythology. Most artists today seem to have a very superficial, childish view of myths; their idea of making myths accessible to adults is by "modernizing" and depurifying them. Shyamalan does the opposite here by showing how reality is made clearer by looking at it through the eyes of myth and innocence. He also makes the connection between myth and Divine Providence a seamless one, thankfully avoiding the cliché, new-age spiritualism that is usually used for this type of genre. There were other things as well -- humility vs. pride, modesty, childlikeness -- that really put this story on a human level in a way I wouldn't expect from a typical Hollywood film.

Okay, those are my ramblings for the time being. Ciao a tutti!

"Cast your soul to the seas . . ."

2006-07-23T12:14:00.000-07:00

Ciao a tutti!

Welcome to my little corner of cyberspace . . . how poetic does that sound? If you're a treky, you might think so. Anyhow, along with my MySpace account, this is a slightly more personal way to keep in touch with my friends (with fewer scary people inviting me to be their friends). I can also ramble on about my reflections on life in general, literature, movies, or why Harry Potter is NOT sending the world to hell in a handbasket, and no one can tell me to be quiet.

Tanti saluti da Virginia!

*The title of this work is by Loreena McKennitt