Monday, March 28, 2005
 

Can we be done now - I really have things I need to do. Posted by Hello


- posted by -g @ 1:38 PM | | 0 rocks in pond



 

Perspective is a funny thing. Can you imagine the story that goes with this one? Posted by Hello


- posted by -g @ 12:50 PM | | 0 rocks in pond



 

Ann's Eye for Beauty Posted by Hello


- posted by -g @ 12:48 PM | | 0 rocks in pond



 
For Allie

To quote a learned friend in regards to one of my essays: "I regret that your lack of intellectual concentration which was quite characteristic of the previous essay also leaves its mark quite clearly in this present essay."

Opinions are all of a kind - subjective. Who do we write for? I have been told more than once that it is for myself that I write. It is true, but I am working to get over it.

"Whom the gods wish to destroy they first make dumb with the notion of being a writer."

I write much, but I never claimed to be a writer. I will take your advice, and thank you for it.

*bows love*


- posted by -g @ 11:58 AM | | 0 rocks in pond



Saturday, March 26, 2005
 
Health to you, and to you peace of spirit and mind.

The tongue may be small, but it wields astonishing power. The book of James compares it to a wild horse, a wandering ship, or a raging forest fire. Imagine having love and truth deep in our mind to filter every word we speak. Our mouths are supposed to be fountains of life (Prov. 10:11), but all too often they sound like babbling brooks. How do we avoid the tongue's five most troublesome slips: bragging, complaining, gossip, unchecked anger, and careless remarks? If I dwell deep with God, the overflow will consistently seep into my conversation. What might that look like?

THE POWER OF WORDS
by Edgar Allan Poe
1850

OINOS. Pardon, Agathos, the weakness of a spirit new-fledged with immortality!

AGATHOS. You have spoken nothing, my Oinos, for which pardon is to be demanded. Not even here is knowledge a thing of intuition. For wisdom, ask of the angels freely, that it may be given!

OINOS. But in this existence, I dreamed that I should be at once cognizant of all things, and thus at once be happy in being cognizant of all.

AGATHOS. Ah, not in knowledge is happiness, but in the acquisition of knowledge! In for ever knowing, we are for ever blessed; but to know all were the curse of a fiend.

OINOS. But does not The Most High know all?

AGATHOS. That (since he is The Most Happy) must be still the one thing unknown even to Him.

OINOS. But, since we grow hourly in knowledge, must not at last all things be known?

AGATHOS. Look down into the abysmal distances! - attempt to force the gaze down the multitudinous vistas of the stars, as we sweep slowly through them thus - and thus - and thus! Even the spiritual vision, is it not at all points arrested by the continuous golden walls of the universe--the walls of the myriads of the shining bodies that mere number has appeared to blend into unity?

OINOS. I clearly perceive that the infinity of matter is no dream.

AGATHOS. There are no dreams in Aidenn - but it is here whispered that, of this infinity of matter, the sole purpose is to afford infinite springs, at which the soul may allay the thirst to know, which is for ever unquenchable within it - since to quench it, would be to extinguish the soul's self. Question me then, my Oinos, freely and without fear. Come! we will leave to the left the loud harmony of the Pleiades, and swoop outward from the throne into the starry meadows beyond Orion, where, for pansies and violets, and heart's- ease, are the beds of the triplicate and triple - tinted suns.

OINOS. And now, Agathos, as we proceed, instruct me! - speak to me in the earth's familiar tones. I understand not what you hinted to me, just now, of the modes or of the method of what, during mortality, we were accustomed to call Creation. Do you mean to say that the Creator is not God?

AGATHOS. I mean to say that the Deity does not create.

OINOS. Explain.

AGATHOS. In the beginning only, he created. The seeming creatures which are now, throughout the universe, so perpetually springing into being, can only be considered as the mediate or indirect, not as the direct or immediate results of the Divine creative power.

OINOS. Among men, my Agathos, this idea would be considered heretical in the extreme.

AGATHOS. Among angels, my Oinos, it is seen to be simply true.

OINOS. I can comprehend you thus far - that certain operations of what we term Nature, or the natural laws, will, under certain conditions, give rise to that which has all the appearance of creation. Shortly before the final overthrow of the earth, there were, I well remember, many very successful experiments in what some philosophers were weak enough to denominate the creation of animalculae.

AGATHOS. The cases of which you speak were, in fact, instances of the secondary creation - and of the only species of creation which has ever been, since the first word spoke into existence the first law.

OINOS. Are not the starry worlds that, from the abyss of nonentity, burst hourly forth into the heavens - are not these stars, Agathos, the immediate handiwork of the King?

AGATHOS. Let me endeavor, my Oinos, to lead you, step by step, to the conception I intend. You are well aware that, as no thought can perish, so no act is without infinite result. We moved our hands, for example, when we were dwellers on the earth, and, in so doing, gave vibration to the atmosphere which engirdled it. This vibration was indefinitely extended, till it gave impulse to every particle of the earth's air, which thenceforward, and for ever, was actuated by the one movement of the hand. This fact the mathematicians of our globe well knew. They made the special effects, indeed, wrought in the fluid by special impulses, the subject of exact calculation -so that it became easy to determine in what precise period an impulse of given extent would engirdle the orb, and impress (for ever) every atom of the atmosphere circumambient. Retrograding, they found no difficulty, from a given effect, under given conditions, in determining the value of the original impulse. Now the mathematicians who saw that the results of any given impulse were absolutely endless - and who saw that a portion of these results were accurately traceable through the agency of algebraic analysis - who saw, too, the facility of the retrogradation - these men saw, at the same time, that this species of analysis itself, had within itself a capacity for indefinite progress - that there were no bounds conceivable to its advancement and applicability, except within the intellect of him who advanced or applied it. But at this point our mathematicians paused.

OINOS. And why, Agathos, should they have proceeded?

AGATHOS. Because there were some considerations of deep interest beyond. It was deducible from what they knew, that to a being of infinite understanding - one to whom the perfection of the algebraic analysis lay unfolded - there could be no difficulty in tracing every impulse given the air - and the ether through the air - to the remotest consequences at any even infinitely remote epoch of time. It is indeed demonstrable that every such impulse given the air, must, in the end, impress every individual thing that exists within the universe; - and the being of infinite understanding - the being whom we have imagined - might trace the remote undulations of the impulse- trace them upward and onward in their influences upon all particles of an matter - upward and onward for ever in their modifications of old forms - or, in other words, in their creation of new - until he found them reflected - unimpressive at last - back from the throne of the Godhead. And not only could such a thing do this, but at any epoch, should a given result be afforded him - should one of these numberless comets, for example, be presented to his inspection - he could have no difficulty in determining, by the analytic retrogradation, to what original impulse it was due. This power of retrogradation in its absolute fullness and perfection -this faculty of referring at all epochs, all effects to all causes - is of course the prerogative of the Deity alone - but in every variety of degree, short of the absolute perfection, is the power itself exercised by the whole host of the Angelic intelligences.

OINOS. But you speak merely of impulses upon the air.

AGATHOS. In speaking of the air, I referred only to the earth; but the general proposition has reference to impulses upon the ether- which, since it pervades, and alone pervades all space, is thus the great medium of creation.

OINOS. Then all motion, of whatever nature, creates?

AGATHOS. It must: but a true philosophy has long taught that the source of all motion is thought - and the source of all thought is-

OINOS. God.

AGATHOS. I have spoken to you, Oinos, as to a child of the fair Earth which lately perished - of impulses upon the atmosphere of the Earth.

OINOS. You did.

AGATHOS. And while I thus spoke, did there not cross your mind some thought of the physical power of words? Is not every word an impulse on the air?

OINOS. But why, Agathos, do you weep - and why, oh why do your wings droop as we hover above this fair star - which is the greenest and yet most terrible of all we have encountered in our flight? Its brilliant flowers look like a fairy dream - but its fierce volcanoes like the passions of a turbulent heart.

AGATHOS. They are! - they are! This wild star - it is now three centuries since, with clasped hands, and with streaming eyes, at the feet of my beloved - I spoke it - with a few passionate sentences- into birth. Its brilliant flowers are the dearest of all unfulfilled dreams, and its raging volcanoes are the passions of the most turbulent and unhallowed of hearts.


- posted by -g @ 7:28 AM | | 0 rocks in pond



Wednesday, March 23, 2005
 
Happiness

Isn't that what everyone wants? Isn't that what everyone desires? That is the motivation.

Wouldn't a better question be, "What makes you happy and why?"

Think about that one because it is what should really matter. If there is no joy in life there is nothing.


- posted by Julia @ 10:57 AM | | 0 rocks in pond



Sunday, March 20, 2005
 
The Logic of Melancholy Joy

Kierkegaard tried to throw off his melancholy and become known as quite a bon viveur (did I spell that correctly Eva?) in Copenhagen society. However, his journal revealed a darker, suicidal side:
"I have just returned from a party of which I was the life and soul; witty banter flowed from my lips, everyone laughed and admired me - but I came away, indeed that dash should be as long as the radii of the earth's orbit wanting to shoot myself."

At the core of his work is the rejection of systematized, logical thought as a definitive guide to life and meaning. His chief target here was Hegel, whose philosophical system was seen by many in the mid nineteenth century as able to explain virtually everything. Hegel thought that wherever there appeared to be a contradiction, a thesis and antithesis, it would be possible to reach rational harmony by means of a synthesis between the two. What is irrational in the original two positions is thus eliminated and what is rational is preserved. But Kierkegaard argued that the 'movement' in the synthesis is not explained. If the synthesis is fully contained in the thesis and antithesis, then the synthesis is no real progression at all. If, on the other hand, there is something novel in the synthesis, then the movement is not strictly rational, as something new must have been introduced that was not contained in the original pairing.

Kierkegaard's point is that no matter how rigorous your logical system, there will always be gaps. As these gaps are logical gaps, it is futile to try and bridge them. Instead, they can only be breached by a leap of faith. What characterizes a leap of faith is the absolute uncertainty that underlies it. Faith is by definition that which cannot be proven or disproved. That is why a leap of faith is undertaken.

I take from Kierkegaard the idea that human existence requires real 'passion' as well as thought. It is well, then, that I am surrounded by those who are willing to forgive, for surly passion will overcome reason and forgiveness will be needed.

So I ask again: What are your desires?
What is your passion? What do you think?


- posted by -g @ 4:39 PM | | 0 rocks in pond



Saturday, March 19, 2005
 
Mary Freise.

She was a longtime parishoner at my church and she died last week. Everyone knew her, not necessarily by name, because she always came towards the altar really showly at communion time. At every mass during communion she would take father's hand and ask him, "Am I going to be okay?"


- posted by Allie @ 6:07 PM | | 0 rocks in pond



Saturday, March 12, 2005
 
Excerpt from Duisterville

They entered the forest just as the sun set and long shadows stretched across the campus, making it all seem very dark. Philip noticed that some of them, Dom and Piper included, had brought flashlights. He and Caleb, having come unprepared, had none, and so stumbled many times over twigs and roots, and were scraped and whipped by various branches. Once they were deep into the forest, Dr. Veritas stopped everyone and spoke to them, leaning heavily on his cane, half supported by Zhi at his other side. "The shugas are ferocious rodents. With their venom, a bite or even a scratch would cause death for which there is no remedy. But remember, as Zhi already has already said, they're dead. Their venom has been made powerless by the work Zhi has already done. They can still bite and scratch and cause terrible pain. Perhaps it stings, but they can't really hurt you."

Then Zhi organized them into groups of two to four and sent them further into the forest. Philip and Caleb were put together with Dom and Piper. He was about to hand them shuga guns when Dom pulled his kuzdelem from his pack. "Y'ah, yes. Y'you Regnum already have shuga guns." Then he moved on to organize the next group.

Everywhere they went in the forest, they saw mounds of dirt where the shugas had dug up the ground, and trees fallen over where they had eaten clear through the trunks. In one place the landscape looked as though a tornado might have hit. "Look at this destruction," remarked Dom in amazement.

They all four saw something move behind one of the mounds of torn up dirt and tree branches. A small shadow of a reptilian shape with a pointed snake's head and a rat's body jumped high in the air. They could see for just a brief moment that it was built with bones sticking out of its skin, long bony legs, inch-long fangs bared, and claws just as long. Tiny eyes like red laser light stared out at them. The four watched with a sickening nausea while the creature spread bony wings made of black, rotting skin and furiously sped towards them. The wings accelerated its attack so that it was flashing towards them at an amazing speed, fangs bearing out of its pointed mouth when Dom raised his gun and fired. Blinding light pulsed from Dom's gun and covered the creature, causing it to make an ear-splitting squeal before it dropped to the ground in flames.

Dom, followed by the other three, cautiously approached the place where the shuga had landed, and found only a mound of charred flesh. "This one won't do any more damage," Dom reported after probing the ashen remains with his foot.

"Imagine what that could do if they weren?t already poisoned," Caleb remarked quietly. Philip still had the image of the bony creature with rotting flesh and laser eyes fresh in his mind, and was a little too vexed to answer.

As they went further into the dark forest, they watched carefully for any movement while they plowed through fallen trees, broken branches, displaced earth full of rocks, and even some pieces of wood that looked removed from somewhere on the campus grounds. It would have been difficult to see them in the darkness except for their laser-red eyes. One, two, three, and then ten, fifteen, and twenty and more were destroyed, dropping to the ground in flames just like the first. Philip counted five that he had shot himself. He lost is earlier dread and was feeling rather confident, marveling at how easily they succumbed to the pulses of light from the gun.

Finally it grew late, and the four trudged back to the clearing in the forest. Zhi was glowing when Dom told him how many the four and destroyed. When they had safely left the forest and were under the glowing globes of the campus, Philip noticed for the first time that there was small writing scrawled across the cannon area of the kuzdelem gun. He held it up towards one of the globes and read,
In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus.


- posted by Bruce @ 10:19 AM | | 0 rocks in pond



Sunday, March 06, 2005
 
You Can Be Whatever You Want to Be
by Donna Levine

There is inside you
all of the potential to be whatever
you want to be
all of the energy to do whatever
you want to do.

Imagine yourself as you would like to be,
doing what you want to do,
and each day, take one step
towards your dream.

And though at times it may seem too
difficult to continue,
hold on to your dream.

One morning you will awake to find
that you are the person
you dreamed of
doing what you wanted to do
simply because you had the courage
to believe in your potential
and to hold on to your dream.


- posted by Julia @ 1:47 PM | | 0 rocks in pond



Saturday, March 05, 2005
 
Excerpt from Duisterville

Tomma Torstig pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring the intoxicated protests and rude complaints of those she roughly pushed out of her way. She didn't know where she was going, but just kept walking, not adhering to either sidewalks or streets. When she reached an open field, she finally stopped and sat down on the ground. It was windy, cold, and dry. There had been very little rain this spring so that the ground was hard, and had been ripped apart with the destruction wrought by some kind of rodent or something. She felt like she was the ground- that she was thirsty just like the ground- torn apart by the rodents of the world. The wind whipped across the dry field causing her to shiver violently. She put her face in her hands in despair.

It was late in the evening by now, and there were no lights out in the open field except the sliver of moon and the stars shining down from above. But even if Tomma could have seen, she had her face buried in her hands, and would probably never have noticed the dark cloud forming just above her. It started as a thread, as if just a small tear in the fabric of space. It ripped longer and wider until thick darkness spilled through from whatever was on the other side. Sharp flaming eyes formed in the surging black cloud, swirling and swirling around, eyeing their prey beneath them.

Tomma tried to clear her head. No, there was nothing to clear. Her life was falling apart. She had lost her two close friends, Philip and Caleb. She had looked up to Todd. Yes, she had respected him, but now with the way he had treated her. She shook her head. It seemed like everyone had abandoned her, and everything was so confusing.

She was so distraught that she didn't notice that the wind was gone and the ground had trembled just slightly beneath her. She saw a small sprout appeared through the broken clay, growing way too fast for a plant. Then another sprout appeared nearby. The sprouts pushed higher, faster, thicker. One tentacle then another grew from the ground on all sides of her. She was surrounded. Suddenly the ground shook violently, and she looked up to see thick, high tentacles covered with a thick long hairs and a black jelly all along its surface. They were towering over her. Dirt was flying everywhere. Tomma staggered backwards, staring for just a moment at the giant hairy arms before turning to run, but there were more behind her. There was no escape. Massive tentacles closed around her, the clay buckling and rising beneath her feet like she was in the palm of a giant hand. She screamed when the fingers closed about her.

Tomma lay on the broken clay of the field, drifting in and out of consciousness. Water...she needed water...she was so thirsty...so agonizingly thirsty...

Margie, what's that ahead, lying in the field? An older man and his wife were out for a late evening stroll through the open field. Margie it's a young woman! Call 9-1-1. Hurry Margie, she looks like she might be dying.

Tomma drifted in and out of consciousness as she was carried on a stretcher to a waiting ambulance. All she could think about was her thirst. She was so thirsty, so very thirsty. The sirens wailed in the background while they connected an IV to her wrist. Something she had heard once echoed through her mind:

O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water.


- posted by Bruce @ 1:51 PM | | 0 rocks in pond



Friday, March 04, 2005
 

When friends like other friends "in that way", it tends to change the dynamic of their relationship with other friends. Suddenly, everyone is alienated, except for the person who they are "dating" or "like". For the friend who is left out or left with no one, it's a lonely time and it tends to make you feel left out. There are stiff conversations with all three are around and shifty eyes to hint "gee, this is uncomfortable." If they would like me to go away, they should just say it rather than resorting to ridiculous signals and pretending like they don't just want to leave me behind and hang out with their boyfriend or girlfriend.

Well, school is lonely now and the lesson that should be learned from this is don't alienate the people who care about you the most and will still be there when your boyfriend/girlfriend isn't.



- posted by Elis @ 8:46 PM | | 0 rocks in pond



Tuesday, March 01, 2005
 
Concerning The Living Word - The Bible:

It is good to come to this book seeking knowledge.
It is better to come seeking God.

This book will keep you from sin.
Sin will keep you from this book.

"On these pages you will find the living Christ and you will see him more fully and clearly than if he stood before you, before your very eyes." -Erasmus


- posted by -g @ 7:16 AM | | 0 rocks in pond



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