26 February 2004

(I don’t even know if I like this. I noticed I had started this poem several months ago, and stopped in frustration. I finished it up.)

Death, a rose
A scent -
Sickly and sweet:
A beautiful color,
Red on Red,
My blood
And my flower,
Its thorn in my hand,
A beauty
Never held too close.

( C: 1 )

(not really a poem, just something I found jotted down)

I am the only one to blame
Fallen from grace, solid I fade
No heart to voice a claim
Can I ever know your face?

( C: 0 )

23 February 2004

The foolishness of God is greater than the wisdom of man. We have become fools for Christ. He is foolishness; to follow him, we must be fools. It is a fool who preaches of a man who died and live again. A fool who preaches a salvation which he is entirely unable to give, a salvation he is unable to empirically prove from a God who shows himself evident through the faith of those who follow him. It is a fool who claims to know the unknowable, and see the unseeable.

To be such a fool...

( C: 0 )

22 February 2004

Ever met a man who was wise? I have - and what a sight it is.

Can you hear him? His voice deepens when he speaks; the pauses in his conversation are transparently intentional, adding impact upon impact, as every sentence flows poetically from his lips. He looks into other’s eyes, holding their attention with the force of his will, as he dispassionately expounds on what is asked of him.

He can afford to be dispassionate, since all of his passion is rightly directed upon himself, since he is the measure of all things. What room is there for passion for truth, when the wise man is enflamed with his own wisdom? The wise man marvels, in his own way, at himself - “Look at me!” he mutters to himself, for he is impressed with his own knowledge, his own ability to see what is given.

He removes a pen from his pocket and smiles in a smug matter: “It is black!” he proclaims and adds, “Black is a combination of all colors!” The wise man places the pen back in his pocket and would comment on the nature of the non-color white, except that he is whisked away in the glowing self-satisfaction of seeing with one’s eyes the obvious. Ah! To have such happy knowledge! To have such pleasure!

But - oh - there is pain; from time to time, the pen the wise man removes from his pocket is blue. Imagine the confusion that he deals with, and the heroic manner in which it is confronted. Such a pain, unexpected things are! The wise man withdraws, at this point, knowing that little can be done. Chaos has burst forth! A black pen which is blue! How can he understand this!? What could be done?

The wise man knows that nothing can be done; and he becomes angrily dispassionate about the situation. After all, he reminds himself, he is dispassionate; by definition a dispassionate man is not angry. And so he dispassionately flings the pen across the room, and steps on it in an unangry, violent manner - while pointing out that the pen, by not being black, was in error. Ipso facto, he adds, pleased with his knowledge of Latin. It is Ipso facto in error. Having objectively concluded the episode, he rationally concludes that he is the center of the universe and proceeds to wander into traffic.

( C: 0 )

21 February 2004

A good point, by A. G. Sertillanges’ the Intellectual Life. I haven’t read anything else by him (Dominican theologians lie outside the scope of my usual study), so I can’t testify to the rest of his knowledge. But this particular quote seems to be quite wise:

From that it follows that we are obliged at a given moment to accept necessary sacrifices. It is a painful thing to say to oneself: by choosing one road I am turning my back on a thousand others. Everything is interesting; everything might be useful; everything attracts and charms a noble mind; but death is before us; mind and matter make their demands; willy-nilly we must submit and rest content as to the things that time and wisdom deny us, with a glance of sympathy which is another act of homage to the truth.

Do not be ashamed not to know what you could only know at the cost of scattering your attention. Be humble about it, yes, for its shows our limitations; but to accept our limitations is a part of virtue and gives us a great dignity, that of the man who lives according to his law and plays his part. We are not much, but we are part of a whole and we have the honor of being a part. What we do not do, we do all the same; God does it, our brethren do it, and we are with them in the unity of love.

. . . The half-informed man is not the man who knows only the half of things, but the man who only half knows things. Know what you have resolved to know; cast a glance at the rest. Leave to God, who will look after it, what does not belong to your proper vocation. Do not be a deserter from yourself, through wanting to substitute yourself for all others.

(Via Mere Comments, Touchstone Magazine’s Blog - which is, from what I’ve observed, the most thoughtful Christian blog on the net)

( C: 0 )

20 February 2004

It seems to me that the statement, “there is no absolute truth” is erronious as the statement, “there is absolute truth” - both assume a certain possibility, without the clear ability to objectively prove it. One sees differences and sees discongruity; the other sees similarities and claims congruity. (Christian’s don’t often intend to say the latter; but after the argument [quickly] leaves God and the Bible, it generally leads to a discussion on world-wide moral principles as indication of absolute truth - but that’s quite the subjective thing)

Problem is, we cannot prove absolute truth (at least, when it comes to things which are inherently subjective - such as morality); but, neither can we disprove the possibility of an absolute truth. One what basis would one disprove an absolutely subjective thing, except through absolutely subjective methods? In other words, it is possible that someone possesses absolute truth and, since we have no purely objective method of discovering it, we cannot identify it. We can only compare what we know with what we know; subjectivity upon subjectivity. So, it’s rather difficult - from this position - to argue either for or against absolute truth.

That leaves us at quite a quandry, eh? ;)

[of course, I believe there is absolute truth. I couldn’t be much of a Christian without it!]

( C: 3 )

18 February 2004

“Rejoice, young man, while you are young and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth. Follow the impulses of your heart and the desires of your eyes, but know that God will judge your motives and your actions” Ecc. 11:9

Again, it seems the scriptures do not condemn desires as such; they seem to merely acknowledge them as part of our existence, a natural part, to be accepted and enjoyed as part of who we are - something to be tested against a greater truth, but not denied as necessarily (inherently) sinful.

I know Paul talks a considerable amount about our evil desires. And certainly (as this scripture indicates), our desires should be tested. The Teacher seems to be saying, “You’re going to have desires. Do not fully trust them, but do not fully deny them. Understand that you will be judged by what you do. But to be young and alive and desiring of a life lived is not evil. Know God, and live life.”

I’m not sure why I’ve interpreted teachings in the church as a condemnation against desires of all kind. Part of the reason is, I believe, that I tend to try and live out teachings to their logical extremes. And if something is consistent, it should be able to be lived out to an extreme. This is a part of being me, whether I’m always aware of it or not.

And, apparently, with all the sermons on the evils of this desire or that desire, I seemed to be catching the hidden undercurrents of “all desire is evil”, rather than “test your desires against Christ”. Most people don’t have the problems I’m running into because most people aren’t concerned with consistency of thought and action. Not that I do, perfectly, but its something I naturally strive for... and would have been better off knowing years ago.

( C: 0 )

16 February 2004

I posted this a while ago, but I think it’s worth reposting - I read it a while ago, and was quite pleased at my attitude... I’ve since decided that this is the way I must approach life, not just a retreat. It’s oddly Kierkegaardian, which is interesting since I hadn’t even heard of him at that point.

I’ve concluded what my attitude toward the retreat should be. I will go in order to seek the truth, the Logos, the very incarnation of truth. Where there is Truth, I will find it, and embrace it to the uttermost – throwing myself at it with all of my being, not because of an emotional experience but because the Truth I have discovered is the truth that I have sought for so long. In my search for the truth, I must be guided by the Spirit (in so far as I am able to hear Him) and by whatever wisdom he has given me. I also must not resist the Truth merely because the “crowd” is blindly falling towards it – the truth is no less truth merely because mankind does not understand it, for Christ taught thousands – and the majority rejected him. In the same way, I cannot reject Christ because thousands appear to accept him without truly understanding the One who they claim to follow. Perhaps they may fall away; perhaps they may not. The state of their heart should not affect in any way the state of mine. I will seek the Logos as I see Him, and seek him in truth and in honesty. I will not reject him because I feel the pressure to conform to something which may be illusionary to most; if he is there, I will find him. Until this point, much of my experience in search has not been in honesty. I’ve wanted to reject truths merely because those who claim to follow do not understand the truths. This is not intellectual or spiritual honesty. If I do this, I am no better than these people – for I, too, am the fool. I’ve wanted to be the utter rebel, to reject all unless it is a new truth. But how can there be new truths or new visions without the foundations of the old? Without “in the beginning” there can never be “in the end”. “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last”. Without the end there is no beginning and without the beginning there is no end. I must understand this, less my vision becomes distorted either with my own significance or my own insignificance. I am neither the beginning nor end; my philosophies and thoughts are neither new nor old. If they stem from the Logos, the one who ever was and ever will be, they merely are, being permanent fixtures in the fabric of all existence. Therefore, I cannot reject what is old truth in the search for new truth. And I cannot say that there is no new truth and remain in the old truth. For there is merely truth in the form of the Logos. He is and was and will be and it is his revealing that I seek. For as I find him, I will merely see truth – neither old nor new, but timeless and timely. And this vision, this gift, will be transcendent – not merely immanent – coming not from within me, but from beyond me. For I cannot transcend this human reality. But the Logos has.

( C: 0 )

14 February 2004

Posting has been rather light for the last several days, since I’ve been out of town and my traditional thinking habits have been interrupted. It’ll be back to normal, in all likelihood, on Monday.

( C: 0 )

12 February 2004

Considering what I’d said in the last post, I decided to write a song to describe my emotions. Well, write at least the lyrics to a song. Anyway, this was my best shot. I suppose I might call it “Going this Way”.

The sun and the rain rolled into one
It’s a bittersweat world, hey...
I travel and seek, find my own way
Walk alone, dyin’ to stay

Can’t you see the world going this way?
(but I’m just a man, got nothing to say)
Why do you wonder why I pray?
(but I’m just a man, got nothing to say)
Why do I only see this stain?
I’m just a man
I got nothing to say.

( C: 0 )

It’s a classic, but this song by Collective Soul is the essence of the mood I’m in. An oddly bittersweet one - one which I dearly appreciate. Well, the song says it: “I laugh at myself as the tears roll down... cuz its the world I know... its the world I know.”

It’s as if hope and mourning have been wrapped up, and the sun and the rain were both, at once, one. My heart is crying out for something. Depth, I think, more than anything. For the full unveiling of truth. It’s as if I’m longing for something which exists, but I cannot fully see, and I’m mourning my loss of sight. I’m mourning for the world as it is and man as he should be - for myself as I am, and myself as I should be.

This is the world I’ve known: a place of possibility, where possibility is never fully achieved. A place of hope, where hope is never fully gained. And I dream. And I hope. And I mourn for those who don’t see these things. And I mourn for those who can and understand.

“Sitting alone in New York City” - that’s the kind of emotions that are being envoked. Alone in a mass of humanity, but somehow part of it. Sitting in New York will bring these kinds of thoughts: it did for me, while I was there. There is something so human about that city, something so painful. Its a place where you can never be alone, but you are somehow always alone. A place where there is so much knowledge, and so little depth. It is the world, yet moreso.

I hope for the day when all hope is gained, and all truth revealed, and all tears wiped away. And I hope for hope.

Has our conscience shown?
Has the sweet breeze blown?
Has all the kindness gone?
Hope still lingers on.
I drink myself of newfound pity
Sitting alone in New York City
And I don’t know why.
Read on...

( C: 3 )

10 February 2004

This is yet another chunk of thought from my notebook - one that I am, yet again, unwilling to put into more complete form. It’s probably because I’m lazy. Or because I’m just unwilling to do so. Or because, if I discover I’m wrong and want to renig on it, I can just say, “I was just jotting thoughts down in my notebook!” Here is the fragment:

it seems to make sense to me that the beginning point of any study or thought would be an understanding of existence. Where else would you begin, other than that starting point: “We exist”? From there all understanding stems. This is why scientists with little understanding of theology or philosophy must necessarily launch into diatribes about the nature of the beginning (ie, how existence came to exist), when their topic has little or nothing to do with that. The question & nature of existence pervades our existence. But scientists begin at the wrong place, grappling with the question of “how” rather than the statement “I exist”. They turn outward without first turning inward - not grappling w/their singular, subjective existence... surely the more complex thing.

( C: 0 )