Arboretum Photos 2.28.2016

Here's a few of the photos I took yesterday with the macro lens.

Fern fiddleheads unfurling

Urn-flowered clusters of swamp-homed climbing heath
(Pieris phillyreifolia).
This is a native relative of the common Japanese pieris (P. japonica) found in many gardens and landscapes in the U.S. These urn-shaped flowers, similar to blueberry flowers and many other flowers of native species in the heather family, are adapted for bumblebee pollination, requiring longer "tongues" than honeybees have, which aren't capable of reaching into the urn.

Buckwheat tree in blossom.
Cliftonia monophylla is the only species in its genus, and Cliftonia is one of only two genera in its family, both of which are native near the Gulf Coast. I remember when I first saw this tree in flower at Birmingham Botanical Gardens. "What the hell is that? Sure is purty."

Toadshade, wakerobin, Trillium. These little forest beauties go by many names, and I still haven't sorted out the way to tell the difference between the several spotted species found in Alabama. Perhaps I could go to grad school and study Trilliums. I'm thinking this is
Trillium maculatum.

I've recently discovered Pinterest is a great place to find great plant photos and garden ideas. My Pinterest profile is here. I also started a gardening journal on Instagram called inhortisconclusis.

Unction

My family joined me for Mass this morning. My sister is always asking me if I've been to church, so last week I asked her if she wanted to come too. Then my mom came too. My niece was very well behaved through Mass. I think she's going to be a quiet one like the rest of us. I've only heard her cry once or twice, and she never screams. Alongside her cousin of the same age, it is like night and day. 

After Mass they joined as I received the anointing of the sick. This was the first time I've received this sacrament. Father placed his hands on my head and prayed for healing. Then he anointed my forehead and palms. Then we prayed the Our Father and received a blessing. It was a grace-filled moment for me. 

My surgery on Tuesday is not going to be anything major. They are removing more of my parotid gland. I'll be in the hospital overnight.

I mainly requested the sacrament because I don't want it to come back. With each surgery is the risk of damaging a nerve that would leave one side of my face paralyzed. I already lost sensation in my earlobe from the last surgery, but that was predicted. 

Later on I had lunch with my dad and his friends at Elmer's. I had a fried pork chop with black eyed peas, dressing, and Mac and cheese. 

The heat has gone out at my apartment so I borrowed a heater from my dad afterward. The ride following him down Hwy 199 was so beautiful. Dad is planting some dawn redwoods and bald cypresses I picked out for him last week to go along his pond. 

Later I did major cleaning at my apartment and shampooed carpets. I'll be moving in the master bedroom for my last few months there. 

I took some macro photos in the arboretum this afternoon. I'll post some tomorrow if I get the chance. 

Running

I like running because it clears my head. By this, I don't mean it gives me time to think. As a rather neurotic introvert, thinking is about the only thing I ever do. Sometimes I beg, "Please God make it stop. I'll do anything." I've never been too busy to think. The busier I am the more I think. 

I need something occasionally that shuts down my thinking. Since I don't drink much, or use drugs, or watch TV, it has to be something else, something that requires everything I have to give. Running does this for me. If I can think while I'm running, I'm not running hard enough. I need to be gasping for air, with sweat pouring off me, muscles on fire, eyes in tunnel vision. I need an outlet for aggression and competitiveness. I need to be focused on one thing only, the task at hand. Usually to get to this point, I need to sprint, preferably uphill. 

Afterward, I feel awesome. I am warm inside. My mind is quiet and focused. I get great sleep. I am at ease around people. This is what I mean when I say running clears my head. 

Impressions of Froberger

Gosh, I love Froberger. So majestic. So whimsical. So creepy.

Another:

Deprivation and Restoration of Blue

I wear blue-blocking goggles at night sometimes to prevent the blue light from screens from interrupting the production of melatonin (sleep hormone). Yesterday I took them to work, wearing them on the ride to and from the office. It's a scene I've seen almost every day for two years now. Without blue light, I saw it as if fresh for the first time.

Some observations. Without blue light, white and yellow become indistinguishable, as do blue, violet, and black. 

There are essentially two colors left: red and green. Things that are red appear really red, startling even, redder than red of a rainbow. The Dodge I passed was so red I froze in amazement. I had never seen such redness in my life. It was like being in a dream or a movie. 

And green things appear really green, a saturated blue-green, like the color of that garish dye some people put in ponds. The pine trees never stood out like they did with the blue-blockers. I was taken aback by how piney the countryside is. Pine everywhere, bristles dipped in wet viridian, set upright. Tufts of cool season grass, too, are puddles of electric color amid the orange dormant turf.

The sky is perhaps the ugliest thing with blue-blockers. It's a dull yellow-grey tinged with puke green, like pea soup, and clouds are muddy yellow-grey. Orange stands out, but not as vibrantly as red or green.

Overall, with blue-blockers, everything appears much brighter and in high resolution. You see into the woods as with X-ray vision, and everything shaded finds hidden light. Previously-unnoticed details pop up all around. My guess is that, in the absence of blue light, the pupils dilate, allowing more light in of the other colors.

***

Then, taking the blue-blockers off, my eyes were overpowered with brightness and blueness. Everything became tinged with blue. White becomes—impossible as it may seem—whiter than white, so white it's blue (and once a friend told me that in ancient languages there was often one word for white and blue, the two being light and dark variations of the same color). Normal blues, like the county road signs, became deep sea blues, just as startling as the deep reds with the blue-blockers on. On the other hand, the reds and greens, without the blue-blockers, became drab and uninteresting. Yellows, however, appeared as fluorescent orange.

Within a minute or so, the eyes readjusted to blue light, and everything appeared normal again. I have to say, the world is different and interesting without blue light, but also a little depressing, like the depressing feeling one gets in late afternoon in August. I'll take all the colors. 

"Acedia the Hollow Pain" and "Erbarme dich"

I suppose I should catch up on my early music blogging.

I used to follow a channel on YouTube which had the best early music, even better because the man who made the videos must have been insane, giving every piece some colorful, disturbing, arcane title and displaying slideshows of equally esoteric conspiracy-theory-type images throughout (usually Easter Island moai, hoax alien photos, Egyptian hieroglyphs, and the like).

For example, to J.S. Bach and those who study him, the following piece may have merely been "Sonata in c minor: I. Largo" (BWV 1017), but this guy named it "Acedia the Hollow Pain", and accompanied it with a slideshow of details from a Hieronymus Bosch painting (The Garden of Earthly Delights - link to image). What marvelous days of YouTube, long gone! His account has disappeared, but the video below contains the same music.

In any case, Bach later modified this piece into "Erbarme dich" in St. Matthew Passion. The piece is poignant for Lent and Holy Week, words given to St. Peter after having betrayed Christ:

German:

Erbarme dich, mein Gott,

um meiner Zähren willen!

Schaue hier, Herz und Auge

weint vor dir bitterlich.

Erbarme dich, mein Gott.

English:

Have mercy, my God,

for the sake of my tears!

See here, before you

heart and eyes weep bitterly.

Have mercy, my God.

 "He studied with fervor and with vanity nearly every page of Lord knows what Communist manual; he made use of dialectical materialism to put an end to any discussion whatever. The reasons one can have for hating another man, or for loving him, are infinite: Moon reduced the history of the universe to a sordid economic conflict. He affirmed that the revolution was predestined to succeed. I told him that for a gentleman only lost causes should be attractive ... Night had already fallen; we continued our disagreement in the hall, on the stairs, then on the vague streets. The judgments Moon emitted impressed me less than his irrefutable, apodictic note. The new Comrade did not discuss: he dictated opinions with scorn and with a certain anger." 

- Jorge Luis Borges, from "The Shape of the Sword"

I'm into this story. 

Christ the Bridegroom Explained

At the request of CeeCee, here is an explanation of some of the features of the icon of Christ the Bridegroom. Here is a photo of the icon I have:

First, some explanations of the words on the icon. IC XC is a Christogram (monogram of Christ's name) from the Greek "ΙΗϹΟΥϹ ΧΡΙϹΤΟϹ" ("Jesus Christ"). The medieval Greek sigma looks like a C.

Next is the Greek for Bridegroom, transliterated "O Nymphios".

On the halo one sees three arms of the cross, with the letters omicron, omega, nu. This is Greek for "Who is," from the Revelation of St. John, "I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, saith the Lord God, who is [ὁ ὢν], and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty" (1:8). It is a representation of His divinity. (source)

The scene depicted in the icon is from the Passion. "And stripping him, they put a scarlet cloak about him. And platting a crown of thorns, they put it upon his head, and a reed in his right hand. And bowing the knee before him, they mocked him, saying: Hail, king of the Jews" (Matthew 27:28-29). 

Most icons of the Bridegroom depict Him in a scarlet cloak. The icon I have depicts Him in a purple cloak. Interestingly, the Evangelists differ on the color of the cloak also. In Matthew, the robe is scarlet. In Mark and John, it is purple. In Luke, it is merely "gorgeous" or "elegant," though the Latin Vulgate has veste alba, which is translated "white garment" in the Douay-Rheims.

As for the visual symbolism of the icon, which I find most interesting, I liked what I read on the blog A Reader's Guide to Orthodox Icons:

The crown is a symbol of Christian marriage in the Orthodox Church, and the ropes binding Christ’s hand are a near-universal symbol of marriage. The reed used as a mock-scepter is a symbol of humility, of a person that does all possible to bend in service to others.

In stark contrast to the fearsome images of Christ the King presented at the beginning of Lent, we are now presented with our suffering Bridegroom. Why does He suffer? Because of human sin. The betrayal of Judas, the hatred of the Jews, the cowardice of Pilate, the cruelty of the Romans: this is why Christ appears as He does. What form of humanity is not represented by those who mocked Jesus? 

Yet still He stands before us. While we are still as unfaithful as harlots, Christ is betrothed to us. This is Divine Love, that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us . Such perfect, divine, love casts out all fear; and so instead of the stern Judge of the Apocalypse to spur us to repentance, we “behold the man”: the Bridegroom Who burns with such love for us that He suffers death on the Cross.

Suggestion Panels

I pull the door handle and the door doesn't open. I use my right turn signal and immediately try to use my left turn signal but the left turn signal doesn't come on. I try to adjust my radio but I get a warning message about distracted driving that I have to dismiss before I can continue. I turn the temperature control to blue and the A/C comes on even though I didn't touch the A/C button. I hit the defrost button and the fan turns on high and the A/C comes on, even though I changed neither of those controls.

In short, I think I know what I want, but my truck knows what I really want. Things were already getting this way with my old car, and have continued further with my truck. This is the path on which we will continue as we approach fully autonomous vehicles. The panel in a car should no longer be called a control panel. It should be called a suggestion panel. I suggest what I want, and the car's computer judges whether or not it's a good idea. It is programmed to read my mind, to decide what I really want in a given situation, which sometimes is different from what I suggest that I want. Because I'm a dumb, distracted schmoe.

Summer Snowflakes

Summer snowflakes (Leucojum aestivum) are blooming now across Alabama. I love the "summer" appellation, so-called because it blooms in April and May where it is native in Europe, distinguishing it from another species, spring snowflakes (L. vernum), which blooms earlier, though not as early as winter-blooming snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis, which doesn't grow in south Alabama - not enough winter here).

Leucojum aestivum - summer snowflakes

I got out my macro lens this weekend. It had been in the closet for a few years. I enjoyed taking extreme close-ups, though without a tripod many of the photos were not in focus.

I had a nice weekend. I spent all day gardening on Saturday, repotting my alpine strawberries in larger containers so I don't have to water them twice a day this summer, and potting some herbs I bought on Friday, rue and salad burnet. I planted the salad burnet in a large container, too. I'm anxious to try the leaves in salads or on sandwiches. They taste like cucumber.

Today I sat at Mass with my goddaughter and her family and went to the Montgomery Zoo with my dad, sister, and niece. This is the anniversary of my step-mother's death, so my sister and I wanted to spend the day with Dad. This afternoon I went walking in the woods near my uncle's house, finding some old daffodils blooming on a bank. I'm sure a house or a garden used to be there. The cultivars were those popular in the late 19th Century/early 20th century, which may be when they were planted.

Oil Pastel Drawing (GMH)

I made another oil pastel drawing of Gerard Manley Hopkins. This time I used the Jesuit group photo I recently found. I need to clean up some things and make a few corrections but it's mostly done.

Looking a Christ the Bridegroom

The Bridegroom icon, from what I've read, plays a large part in the Byzantine Rite Holy Week. Personally, I've never been so drawn to a religious image as this one. I find myself coming back to it again and again.

Last month, I found a wood-mounted print of it in a gift shop. I almost literally leaped for joy. The gift shop owner was so taken by my enthusiasm for it, she gave it to me for $20, since that's the only cash I had, and the sticker said it cost a little more.

I don't know what sorts of relationships other people have with sacred images. When I look at Our Lady of Guadalupe, I feel hope. When I look at St. Joseph, I have an enlivened sense of duty and purity.

With Christ the Bridegroom, I feel primarily love. But I also go to this icon whenever I don't know what I'm supposed to do, and as soon as I gaze at it, I know exactly what I have to do, and I feel peace about it. It embodies manhood at its fulfillment and perfection. It embodies sacrificial love. It embodies total cooperation with the will of God.

Cousin Sue

My cousin Sue died last night after a long battle with an infection. I believe I wrote about my Uncle Charlie in a blog post before. She was his daughter, my mom's first cousin. Four years ago she had a heart transplant, and I believe her infection was related to that somehow. In any case, how priceless those four extra years were with her grandchildren - otherwise the youngest of them might not have known her at all.

Family gathering a few years ago; Sue on far left.

Sue was a part of all my childhood memories at my great-grandmother's house. I'll never forget her distinctive voice, deep and raspy, yet soft, feminine, very Southern. In addition to being a homemaker, she loved gospel music and was very active in a Baptist church.

Requiem aeternam dona ei Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei.

Haecceity: 'What I Do Is Me'

One of the most attractive of the ideas Hopkins developed, from Duns Scotus, is haecceity. Each thing has a whatness (quiddity - "I am a human being") and a thisness (haecceity - "I am Ross Hornsby"). In the deistic and agnostic conceptions of reality, God or the laws of physics "wind the clock" and things go into and out of existence by cause and effect according to set laws without any divine thought in the process. In such case, "Ross Hornsby" is just one of many arbitrary iterations of a species that happened to arise out of natural processes. But, the Christian conception of reality holds that God wills each thing into being (and especially a person) as a sort of direct intervention by Him in the destiny of the created universe. As Hopkins has it, each thing cries "what I do is me: for that I came." That is, there will never be another you or another me or another this thing, and we each exist that we might be who God wills us to be, and God wills us to be because He intends our existence to form the cosmic destiny.

Life Update

I keep losing things. This morning I couldn't find the keys to my truck. I looked all over my apartment and outside. Usually when I can't find them, I find them in the hamper in the pocket of the pants I wore the day before. Not there. Not under or around my bed. Not on the kitchen counters. Nowhere. After thirty minutes I gave up and used my spare keys. St. Anthony, pray for us!

I've become a coffee guy. Specifically, I've made a morning routine now, where I make coffee in a moka pot. My friend Matt introduced me to that kind of coffee when I visited him last fall. I love it; it's so strong it makes me shiver on the first sip. I got a coffee grinder for Christmas, too, and have been grinding my own beans.

I got my hair cut yesterday with Thomas. We talked about the sacrament of confession for twenty minutes. Then we started talking about all kinds of things that might scare non-Catholics: relics, incorrupt saints, ecclesiastical vestments, indulgences, etc. I looked at the woman sweeping around me to see if she would flinch or startle, but she didn't. Then again, if she works with Thomas, she's probably used to hearing startling things. He also said the only thing that disappoints him about Pope Francis is that he doesn't use the full papal regalia. He said while it might appear humble, it shows disrespect for the office, like if Obama were to wear overalls to work. I think I agree in spirit, without being as enthusiastic about silk and embroidery as he is.

I've been stretching to improve hip flexibility over the past few weeks to counter the effects of sitting too much at work and running. It's amazing how more limber I've become with daily practice. I'm almost where I can cross my legs like the Buddha statues, and I can bend over and touch my knees with my face, or cradle my legs in my arms like a baby. Maybe one day I can do splits or full squats (my ultimate goal).

Wintersweet

Wintersweet (Chimonanthus praecox). Why is this shrub blooming so lonesomely?

Praecox means 'unseasonably early' or 'precocious' (the latter being derived from praecox).

First Friday in Lent with non-Catholics

Steak kabobs, grilled Conecuh sausage, pork loin sliders, chicken wings, bacon-wrapped stuffed jalapeños, some kind of delicious creamy dip with ground sausage in it. This was dinner at my cousin's tonight. "Tempted" does not even begin to describe it. They kept bringing in more and more platters of meat and, even with one fewer salivary gland, my mouth be drippin' as I eyed those Protestants devouring savory juicy beast flesh. For me, I fared on mashed potatoes, chips, cole slaw, a bun, and a few baby carrots. Sigh...and Beer.

February Ask

I may do one of these once a month, depending on if I keep finding them. This one must have been made by someone involved in FOCUS:

1. What was the last novena you prayed?

I think it was a novena to the Holy Spirit for Pentecost. I guess I haven't been much of a novena guy.

2. Favorite parable?

Parable of the sower.

3. Have you discerned the Lord's vocation for you?

No comment.

4. If it is the religious life, what order is the best fit for you?

I think Carmelite or Benedictine. Possibly Franciscan.

5. Favorite saint growing up?

Saint Augustine of Hippo (my confirmation saint)

6. Favorite saint now?

St. Joseph, probably, if counting whom I ask the intercession of the most.

7. Favorite Old Testament story?

The Creation narrative(s)

8. Tell us your best Confession story.

I don't really like discussing what goes on in confession, since any priests involved cannot confirm or deny anything about it.

9. Have you discerned serving as a FOCUS missionary?

You say so.

10. If yes, why?

Because FOCUS played a large role in deepening my faith, especially in opening my mind to our mandate to evangelize.

11. If no, why not?

N/A.

12. Where were you when Pope John Paul II passed away?

I don't remember. I was a sophomore in college I think.

13. Have you been on any pilgrimages? (Israel, Medugorje, Lourdes, etc)

World Youth Day, small trips to special liturgies or to the Shrine in Hanceville, Alabama.

14. Last Church where you attended Mass?

St. Michael's in Auburn this morning.

15. Last time you went to Confession?

Saturday.

16. Favorite religious order?

This is like asking which is my favorite plant. Each has its place.

17. Favorite Apostle?

St. John

18. Which saint shares your conversion story?

Honestly, I don't know. Are there any saints that were converts from Protestantism? Bl. John Henry Newman, but I dare not say I share a path with that most formidable man.

19. Last spiritual reading you did? (Diary of St. Maria Faustina, Padre Pio's Secrets of a Soul, etc)

The Bible.

20. Last time you went to Adoration?

Last night.

21. Last time you prayed the Rosary?

It has been a while...maybe a month.

22. Favorite Mystery of the Rosary?

The Sorrowful Mysteries

23. Favorite Our Lady apparition?

Our Lady of Guadalupe

24. Have you been keeping up with the Imagine Sisters' YouTube and Facebook?

Never heard of them.

25. Favorite novena to pray?

I'm not much of a novena guy, as I said. I guess I'm like the Jesuit in the joke about novenas and luxury cars.

26. How old were you when you truly encountered the Lord for the first time?

Probably around 11.

27. What were you doing when the white smoke appeared for Pope Francis?

I was at work at the landscape business. I heard it on the news during one of our breaks.

28. Are you going to give your children saint names?

If I ever have children, most definitely yes.

29. Do you have any saints' medals around your neck?

I've never seen a medal that would fit around my neck. I do have a scapular on, though, with a medal of St. Benedict attached.

30. Do you wear a brown or green Scapular?

See above. Brown. Are green scapulars meant to be worn? I have one in my room. I believe it's under my mattress.

31. If you were going to die next week, what three things would you want to tell a fallen away Catholic?

Why do I have to be dying to say it? God loves you. He willed you specifically into existence as a creature of unspeakable goodness and beauty. Only by loving and serving Him can you reach the end for which you were created. The Church was founded by Christ to bring you and all humanity to this end.

32. Do you attend Daily Mass?

Only on Wednesdays.

33. If not, do you want to? What are some practical steps you can take to ensure this?

Yes, of course. I'd have to quit my job to go to daily Mass in Auburn, unless Mass times were changed, or I got permission to come into work two hours later every day.

34. When you go to Heaven which five saints would you hug and thank first?

Mary, St. Joseph, St. John the Baptist, St. Peter, St. Paul, St. John the Apostle.

35. What was the most intense prayer experience you've ever had?

I suppose I don't measure my prayer by intensity. I measure it by the intimacy, the peace/consolation, or the conversion/repentance of heart. When I decided in prayer that God was calling me to convert to Catholicism, it was an experience of all three.

36. Favorite Old Testament character?

Abraham.

37. Favorite book of the Gospels?

St. Matthew's.

38. Any friends you give credit to for truly leading you to Christ?

I have two in mind specifically, but I won't mention names.

39. If you allowed the Holy Spirit to take over you for one week, what do you think would happen?

Take over me? Like obliterate my free will? Just kidding. I suppose this means a radical docility to the movements of the Holy Spirit. I'm pretty sure I'd be an instant Saint.

40. If the Lord called you to be a martyr for Him, how would you feel?

The Lord calls all of us to lay down our lives for Him every day, in even the smallest of things. Faithfulness in small matters is probably the hardest, but I'm sure being murdered for the faith is terrifying, although the Saints who endured it seemed to have such Peace.

41. Have you been to any FOCUS conferences?

I've been to two.

42. Best FOCUS conference experience?

Listening to the testimonies of students after they returned.

Lent 2016: Suckiness

For Lent this year I've decided to give up being a sucky person. Sometimes I do a thing, then I look back and think, "Damn, that was sucky." I want to stop that suckiness. Don't worry, I have a plan. It's a S.M.A.R.T. goal.

Early Music: Lautenwercke

Lautenwercke (plural of Lautenwerck, I think) are harpsichords with gut strings. I think this may be a German word that means something like "lute mechanism". In any case, I think they sound like banjos, a perfect sound for this genre.

J.S. Bach, trio sonata no. 4 in e minor (BWV 528)
Shawn Leopard & John Paul, lautenwerke

Life Update

My journal reminded me that it was two years ago today that I last visited Nathan. We went out with old Ball State friends. I drove us back and he was upset because I was going too fast. We stayed up late talking. He bought Diet Cokes and chocolate ice cream for us. I was thinking about him this weekend. I wish I could talk to him again.

Today I found out that I will need another surgery on my salivary gland. I discovered something under my jaw a couple of months ago. What I had before came back. My surgery will be March 1.

The first flowers of spring have shown up in my mom's yard. Little narcissi and crocuses. I cleaned some garden beds and pruned in her yard this weekend.

I got incredible sleep last night. I woke at five this morning and my yellow bedside light was still on and a book and my glasses were in bed with me. I needed it.

My dad intends to give me more responsibility in his business, a share in the ownership.

I have been sad for a number of weeks now and trying to keep my mind on other things. I've been consoled in prayer and reading and in little kindnesses people offer me. Ultimately the sadness comes from within. It makes no sense in writing further about what I can't change.

Some new people I've been reading from lately are Walter Pater, John Ruskin, Boethius, George Herbert. I'd like to learn more about Pater's thoughts on beauty and Boethius' path out of despair and despondency as he awaits execution.

Reverence for the Other

Each person, because he or she is created in the image and likeness of God, is due a certain reverence. Without such reverence we cannot hope to be in just relation with one another, to live with one another in peace, or for our societies to flourish. What is this reverence, then, and how does it arise? Here is a hypothesis.

Each person, made in the image of God, is worthy of being known and understood. None of us has what it takes, however, to know and understand another person. A tension arises between what is required of us and what we are able to give: this tension is the basis of reverence for the other. 

(The even greater reverence we owe God arises from basically the same tension: the disparity between what God's existence demands of us and what we are able/unable to give in return.)

If either of the two "pegs" that form this tension is removed, reverence is removed also. Thus, whenever we think we know or understand another person, reverence for him is destroyed. It is an assault against his dignity. It is a failure to recognize our own inadequacy.

Further, whenever we excuse ourselves from the demand that the existence of another places on us, that he be known and understood, reverence is destroyed also. This is another way of assaulting his dignity. It is a failure to recognize what is demanded of us.

All just relationships and interactions need and heed this healthy tension. Any relation, therefore, which is based upon a cheap or easy regard for the other, or places no demands (as I regard irreverence), is prone to injustice.

Greater demands for reverence are placed on us by those most proximate: our family, friends, and neighbors. And these relations are strained, at times, by an over-familiarity that corrodes reverence. In these relationships, then, I think awareness of what is demanded of us and our inadequacy to respond as we ought is most urgent.

Early Music VII: Little Pieces

This is just a little piece by Bach that I've had in my head all weekend.

J.S. Bach, Prelude 1 in C major from Klavierbuchlein for Wilhelm Friedemann Bach (BWV 924)

Joseph Payne, clavichord

These pieces are from a practice book Bach compiled for his oldest son, Wilhelm Friedmann.

Man in a Mirror

I sat and he sat. I alone at my table, he alone at the next, facing me in a near-empty place.  My food comes, then his, then both our numbers go. I raise my head from prayer, his is bowed, soon rising with a likewise sign of the cross. His head bends to his phone, mine to my book.

Who is this man in the mirror, out in Tallassee, Alabama?

From my eye's peripheries, I see clothes that could be mine. A ruddy face, thinning and buzzed hair, black-stubbled jaw. I dare not look up at the face before me; neither he. Is our food the same also, except his fried? I finish first. I stand and my eyes meet his, sky-blue. I nod and he nods. I leave.

My eye catches a last look: his eye catching a last look.

St. Blaise Blessing

Yesterday I lamented not being able to attend Mass for the feast of St. Blaise. Last night, at RCIA, I was talking to a man who noticed I wasn't at Mass, and I told him how I regretted missing it. The pastor overheard our conversation and said that candles weren't needed for the blessing on St. Blaise's feast. Then, he gave me the blessing right there on the spot. God provides! Thank God for our priests.

Carthusian Matins

Here's a video of Carthusians praying Matins (Office of Vigils).

I love a comment someone left there:

In the 1970's I was friends with a beautiful young man who one day told me he was entering the Carthusian Monastery in Grenoble - France. I never heard from him again. I sometimes close my eyes and imagine him there, what his life is like! In silence! He told me he was going to pray for me all of his life! Well, today I can see what his life can be like! And I am certain he is praying for all of us!

I can't imagine this hidden life of silence, unknown to all but God Himself, and reserved only for Him. Makes me want to watch Into Great Silence again.

Better Now

I awoke this morning feeling really good and rested, almost as if nothing happened. My clothes and sheets were drenched, perhaps from whenever my fever broke. The last I remembered last night was violent chills and delirious thoughts in the midst of my virus. Today, it was all gone. I called Dad to tell him I would come in to work at lunch. I washed my bed linens and clothes. I took a shower and disinfected the bathroom. I happened to have weighed myself yesterday morning, so I weighed myself again this morning to see what had changed. I lost six pounds. And I felt, it, too. I was ravenously hungry, and I gulped down a liter or more of water. And now, I'm at work again, happy to be back. I was stir-crazy in my room yesterday.

I had hoped to go to Mass for Candlemas and St. Blaise. Next year, hopefully.

Sleep Time

For the past twenty years I struggled with insomnia. It seemed so bad at times that I thought it was a totally hopeless situation, a unique and severe cross God had burdened me to bear. Yes, I had even, in tune with my melancholic tendencies, ascribed to it spiritual and moral implications.

Then, one day, last October, I stopped drinking caffeine after lunch. That night at nine p.m., I fell asleep effortlessly, slept the whole night through, and woke up feeling wonderful. Was it really as simple as that? Was all my complicating it a self-delusion? Were all those years of doubts and questioning through the night in vain? Apparently so. I hadn't had a bad night of sleep since October...

I'm writing about this today because I had my first bad night of sleep last night. I woke with a headache, which is rare for me, and my whole abdomen felt awful. My sister assured me that my niece was over her stomach virus. Well, perhaps not...