You Asked For It: The Seven Things...

Keep in mind that this was most charitably written in the midst of a pre-comprehensive exam stupor...Each point is like a light in the fog.


Seven things to do before I die:

1. Finish comps
2. Read the entire Chestertonian Compendium
3. Write a novel that will remind people how great they are
4. Learn how to drive stick-shift
5. Go on a real Pilgrimage
6. Send my folks on a European tour
7. Receive Last Rites

Seven things I cannot do:

1. Leave any detail well-enough alone
2. Curse the sunshine
3. Read Greek
4. Hear Confessions
5. Perform rudimentary Calculus problems
6. Fly
7. Dream in Middle English

Seven things that attract me to my other half (following Whiskey's lead):

1. It matches.
2. Without it, I wouldn't be made in the image of God.
3. It makes buying a 'pair' of jeans a sensible thing to do.
4. It keeps me balanced.
5. It prevents me from getting any half-brained ideas (most of the time).
6. It likes to play games (ie. the right hand not letting the left hand know what it's doing).
7. I couldn't live without it.

Seven things I say:

1. Goodness!
2. Just let it fester for awhile.
3. Indeed!
4. That's great!
5. Nonsense!
6. Hi folks!
7. Y'all (this one was acquired)

Seven books that I love:

1. Brothers Karamozov - Dostoyevsky
2. Pride and Prejudice - Austen
3. Everlasting Man - G.K.C.
4. LOTR - Tolkien
5. David Copperfield/Pickwick Papers - Dickens
6. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
7. Bible - God

Seven movies that I love:

1. The Quiet Man
2. Pride & Prejudice (AE version)
3. Henry V
4. The Sound of Music
5. LOTR...yes, yes, I know..
6. The Incredibles
7. You Can't Take it With You (Jimmy Stewart flick)

Seven folks to Meme:
I think I'm all out of bloggers...

The Beauties of Free Verse...

It's good to know that not all 'modern' or 'post-modern' poetry embraces the ever-present agenda. Small shoots of beautiful verse do sprout once in a while in the vast wilds of a decaying language...and this is one of them. Note: if you're a not familiar with the story of Caedmon, read this first.

Caedmon

All other talked as if
talk were a dance.
Clodhopper I, with clumsy feet
would break the gliding ring.
Early I learned to
hunch myself
close by the door:
then when the talk began
I'd wipe my
mouth and wend
unnoticed back to the barn
to be with the warm beasts,
dumb among body sounds
of the simple ones.
I'd see by a twist
of lit rush the motes
of gold moving
from shadow to shadow
slow in the wake
of deep untroubled sighs.
The cows
munched or stirred or were still. I
was at home and lonely,
both in good measure. Until
the sudden angle affrighted me - light effacing
my feeble beam,
a forest of torches, feathers of flame, sparks upflying:
but the cows as before
were calm, and nothing was burning,
nothing but I, as that hand of fire
touched my lips and scorched my tongue
and pulled my voice
into the ring of the dance.

-Denise Levertov
From "Breathing the Water"

Did you hear?...

Just wanted to let everyone know that Miss R.C. has just entered the realm of Blog-dom today, so please extend to her a royal welcome! You can find her in my Blog links under the title: A Feather on the Breath of God.

Mirror, Mirror...

Alright, so I thought I'd throw in my two cents regarding the discussion of Beauty that has been going on of late, especially regarding the beauty of souls. Let me here and now retract my statement that the perfect soul is like a mirror which most clearly reflects God's glory. When St. Paul says that "now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face", I assumed that 'glass' meant mirror, and it has been translated as such frequently; however, the more I read, the more I begin to think that 'glass' means 'glass'- that is, true beauty is not something to look at, but to look through. What I'm getting at here is the idea that beautiful souls (ie. saints) do not only reflect (which is a quality of glass), but also take in light and release it, like a precious, multi-faceted jewel. In this way, the transparency implied in the 'looking through' is not a negation of the soul, but a special glory and gift. This 'transparency' is hinted at several times by Tolkien in The Lord of the Rings, most often in connection with Frodo. After many long days of suffering and toil, the hobbits lie down to sleep in Ithilien, and Sam takes special notice of his master in the distant dawn: "The early daylight was only just creeping down into the shadows under the trees, but he saw his master's face very clearly, and his hands, too, lying at rest on the ground beside him. He was reminded suddenly of Frodo as he had lain, asleep in the house of Elrond, after his deadly wound. Then as he had kept watch Sam had noticed that at times a light seemed to be shining faintly within; but now the light was even clearer and stronger. Frodo's face was peaceful, the marks of fear and care had left it; but it looked old, old and beautiful, as if the chiselling of the shaping years was now revealed in many fine lines that had before been hidden, though the identity of the face was not changed. Not that Same Gamgee put it that way to himself. He shook his head, as if finding words useless, and murmured: 'I love him. He's like that, and sometimes it shines through, somehow. But I love him, whether or no.' (Two Towers, Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit)Maybe this is what is meant by the hints in Revelation towards our becoming like living stones: "...To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it." (Rev. 2:17)

Brainstorm...

A couple of weeks ago, a friend & neighbor of mine (we'll call her R.C. for now) expressed a wish to join the prestigious world of blogging, but would not start a blog until she found a suitable Title and Screen name. At a recent brunch, she had asked some of us to brainstorm a little and think of some ideas to submit as possible appellations. As of yet, she hasn't received any submissions, and I was hoping to create a list for her here. I've got an idea or two, which I will put forth in the comments section to get us started - feel free to throw in any flashes of brilliance that strike your fancy. Hopefully, she will be able to join us soon!

Man oh Man....

All right, for all of you etymology 'frekes' out there, here's the list I've compiled of all the names for 'man' found in our Middle English readings...Enjoy!

In no particular order...

Segge: man, knight, person, sir
Lede: man, knight, prince
Renke: man, knight
Hathel: man, knight, lord
Gome: man, knight, servant
Grome: man, retainer
Wy/Wight: creature, being, person, man, knight, servant, maiden
Schalk: man
Maystre: lord, master, learned man
Freke: warrior, man, knight
Wodwyse/wodwose: man of the woods, satyrs
Dotes for elde: old dotard (accent on the second syllable)

What has become of the English language! There used to be five words for 'knight', and now we're down to one! I must admit, however, that the word 'freke' has trickled down to us somewhat, but who was the lousy 'lichtloker' who changed its meaning?!

Mission: Pick one word for 'man' that is particularly close to your heart and re-introduce it to our old and sound-bitten English tongue. You never know, our children's children may once more be able to tell a 'gome' from a 'grome' and elect a 'lede-man' to weed out all the other 'wodwyses'. Good Wyrd to you!

Coming Soon....

All the known Anglo-Saxon words for 'man', and their respective definitions - in honor of Mr. Flyte and the rest of the Middle English translation team. :)

In Praise of Our 'Infant Confessor'

Hark! For a trumpet is heard through the town
Announcing a glorious day -
People from desk and from book will come 'round
Praising a child at play.
You may ask, "What means this? Why not celebrate
One who's conquered a city or two?
Banners and singing and marching is fine -
If you keep them to heroes, and few."
Rare is this one whom we honor with glee
That never by strength of his arm -
Has overcome ought but a fated CD
Dashed to the floor without harm.
All eyes being captured, and more than one heart -
You have conquered us all, with but a year's art.

On Guard!

Tonight I have taken a major step, nay, a lunge into a world that embraces agility, skill, and the likes of Errol Flynn. Now I do not claim to possess any of these, nor can I claim any resemblance to our swash-buckling hero (by the way, what is "swash-buckling" exactly?), but there is a ray of hope that I may at least be able to "perry a riposte" or know the difference between an 'epee' and a 'sabre'. I must admit, it took very little arm-twisting to get my clumsy self in the door of F.I.T., The Fencing Institute of Texas - an establishment far less intimidating than it sounds. Once inside, one immediately noticed several 'fencers', who looked more like spacemen dancing about like marionettes on a string. O Contrare! These were really 10-13 year olds, most of whom could probably whip the tar out of me had I donned on a similar space suit and foil. Luckily, the kindly instructor assigned to our little group broke us in gently. As I was the only newbie, there were several moments when the feeling that one was making an utter fool of oneself was nearly over-powering. For some reason, the simple 'fencing position' stance seemed to elude me all night, as there is something unnerving about keeping your left foot perpendicular to the rest of the body, but I must say that there were fleeting moments when I almost felt, dare I say it? - debonnaire. Especially when it came to "The Lunge". Now this is one of the most basic aggressive moves in sword-play, and it is one that improves upon closer acquaintance. In fact, the lunge and I became friendly during a little sparring match between a friend and me, and I found it faithful. Therefore, I have decided that I will use every possible opportunity to practice this important maneuver: When a student of mine asks for a stapler, for instance, I will not merely pick it up and hand it over - no, where is the drama, the assertion of authority, in that? I will grasp the stapler, locking my forefinger and thumb around the cartridge, assume the fencing position, making sure every fiber of my being is in the 12:00 position (except of course that darn left foot), and LUNGE at him with machine in hand, measuring my attack so that the front end of it just touches his nose. What restraint! What a portrait of glowing grace and good will! Do not think me ignorant of the fact that there are just some things you do not and must not 'lunge' with - pens for example, and forks....broomsticks also might pose a problem; hence, I will regulate myself to empty water bottles, erasers, string cheese and the like. In this way, I hope to inspire all those who meet me to join this wonderful sport, where they need not be afraid to 'perry a thrust' and learn to buckle a swash or swash a buckle with the best of them!