The Bluegrass Situation

Bluegrass is definitely one of my favorite genres to listen to. I've always loved bluegrass because of the clear sound, the culture behind it, the people, and the beautiful connection to nature that this music has. There are many benefits to listening to bluegrass which I don't have the time, space, or patience to mention right now. But here are a few recent selections I came across and wanted to share. All shot in the beautiful Telluride, Colorado. Enjoy!



I love Sarah Jarosz, and came across this duet with Aoife O'Donovan. I can listen to this every morning!




Chris Thile and Edgar Meyer.

faeries

http://lavenderandlark.com/faeries

http://www.pinterest.com/lavenderlark/

These faerie creations are absolutely precious. They invoke imagination and creativity, unlike the dolls on the shelves today. Love this woman's blog and pinterest.

hope

A bell diphthonging in an atmosphere

Of shying night air summons some to prayer

Down in the town, two deep lone miles from here,

Yet wallows faint or sudden everywhere,

In every ear, as if the twist wind wrung

Some ten years’ tangled echoes from the air. 

What kyries it says are mauled among

The queer elisions of the mist and murk,

Of lights and shapes; the senses were unstrung,

Except that one stars synecdochic smirk
Burns steadily to me, that nothing’s odd
And firm as ever is the masterwork. 

I weary of the confidence of God. 

Our amazing Humanities, Art&Architecture, and Poetry professor here in Rome assigns a specific poem to each of his students, and his way of choosing this specific poem? He believes it reflects something he sees in the student as a person. He assigned this specific poem to me. I was a little disturbed by the poem, but it also moved me as I could relate to it, and so I put my head to trying to analyze this beautifully eerie little poem. 


A diphthong literally means “twice voiced” Imagine multiple church bells tolling... There is some dissonance in the overlapping tolls of just one belltower, especially when heard abruptly in one’s sleep in the night. This experience can be startling, and frightening, especially when one is already unsettled from the sheer fact of being alone in the darkness of night. Maybe you can relate this to the experience of bright head lights of a vehicle shining through a window at night and waking you up from your sleep. Although there is no danger, and light is sometimes welcome in the darkness if you are searching for it, the light, like the bell, is unexpected and makes one feel uncomfortable by the abrupt change in atmosphere. 

Light exposes; darkness shields, shelters, hides, and conceals, and the darkness is shying from the light...

The speaker is alone and separated somewhat from others because he can hear the bell toll “down in the town, two deep lone miles” from where he sleeps. In broad daylight the tolling of the bell would be normal, expected, welcomed, just as praying, eating, talking, laughing, and other activities are normal. But the sound and meaning of a bell during deep sleep, summoning one to pray and beseech God’s mercy is mangled and distorted through the gloom and fog of a dark night.  You wake up confused, started, scared. His senses are detached, doubtful, and afraid. Basically, through auditory experiences these first three stanzas describe what it is like to go through a dark night. The speaker is doubtful, dubious, and this is understandable for anyone who has experienced the dreaded terrors of a dark night... But I also noticed that the bell is saying something. The poem switches from auditory to visuals, and there is a shift in the tone with the last word of the sentence, “the senses were unstrung, except”. Oh, and what does Synecdochic mean? I had no clue, so I looked it up. “Synecdochic” is the part of something that really means the whole of something. A smirk is also just a part of a smile, and so a “synecdochic smirk” seems to be a redundant phrase. But I think Wilbur is trying to say that the bell is like a blurred smirk through heavy shadows, and so is not experienced as strongly as a flashing smile would be in bright light. Although it is only part of a smile and is faint through the darkness, it still burns steadily to the disturbed sleeper – it not only burns as a star through light years of distance and murkiness, but burns steadily, consistently, and undauntingly. The star is the oddly steady, and firm burning fragment of the colossal universe. A star is just part of an entire sky, with its innumerable constellations and dimensions, and yet this star, an image of hope, is one of the few realities of the universe known to man, does not remove the fact that the universe exists, although we may not know the rest of it…yet.  However, a star cannot be seen by man unless it has a canvas of a dark night through which to shine, and so I discovered the first of the paradoxes hidden in this particular poem.  

What I got out of this poem? Well, as fallen creatures we experience certain terrors within the darkness of the soul, but now and again the bell comes, tolling to us from far away in the middle of the night. Although it is not always understood or welcomed, as its beautiful sound and meaning is mauled by the distorted fog of our minds, it is still there. We can close our ears, or close our eyes, or try to fall back down into slumber, but that will not remove the fact that the bell continues tolling, summoning us.

"I weary of the confidence of God." Look at it again; it seems to carry on the same theme of the previous sentence, admitting to the fact that there is a master whose work is ever firm, and oddly firm at that, and that nothing can compare to its stability and unique character. To be confident is to put one’s faith in something or someone, to entrust complete faith and hope in them, to abandon all fear of their ability, and to simply know through the act of complete trust. Of course this is the human understanding of confidence, but God works in mysterious ways, and cannot be fully understood by man, so His confidence is surely of a different nature. The paradox and primary moral concept that I took away from this poem is that one can be in doubt but at the same time know that that doubt can be part of God’s plan. After all, it makes sense that itsnot man’s faith in God, but the faith of God that is the salvation of man, the one unchanging Truth that I can indefinitely rely and lean upon.

theatrum mundi

You speak of Lord Byron and me; there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task. 

John Keats

There is a theory that the world is like a spacious theater where the actors use their talents and skills to learn, practice, and live their part – this is the Theatrum Mundi. I was so excited when I discovered this term, because this is how I have always viewed the world and the people in it that I meet and know!! Also, life is a journey, right? And one that ascends from the beginning to the end - just as a play carries its story from the start to the finish…orrr steps carry their traveler from bottom to top. I was sitting at the foot of the Spanish Steps here in Rome on an overcast rainy day last month, and as I chilled out and reflected on the scene before me, it hit me: the Spanish steps capture that theory of this world as a spacious theater, where the inhabitants mingle, practice, and live their roles. Steps have had their analogical part in literature as leading from this life to the next (think, The Bible) and with this in mind, the Spanish steps can be seen as the reminding role, the memento mori of the Theatrum Mundi, pointing us to the End Goal of our journey in life. If you’re not familiar with the Spanish Steps, they are formally called The Scalinata della Trinita dei Monti,  and are a set of steps in Rome that are built on a steep slope with the Piazza di Spagna at the base and the Trinità dei Monti church overlooking it at the top. When standing at the top, in front of the house of God, I had an advantageous view of man and his architectural accomplishments below. From the bottom of the steps, the height and expanse of the rows and rows of beautiful stonework stretching above and ahead was both an inspiring and intimidating experience. But the Spanish Steps not only have its own role in the Theatro Mundi – inside my mind – as a reminder of this life as a journey, but it has also had its role in actual film: the Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn and The Talented Mr. Ripley with Matt Damon. (Also, cool fact: its the widest staircase in Europe.) But the most fascinating thing about the steps for me was that at the bottom right corner is the house where John Keats lived and died his slow horrible death from Tuberculosis. Until Keats left this world at the young age of twenty-four, his eyes looked upon this very scene countless days and nights, as he contemplated the complexities - both the beautiful and the sorrowful - of this world. To be so close to the residence of such a mastermind of poetry was a super profound experience for me. I’ve also been blessed enough to see his grave here in Rome and pray for his departed soul in front of it. Anyways, I found out later that eating lunch on the steps is prohibited, as it is forbidden by Roman urban regulations. However, there are just so many tourists strolling and resting among the steps, taking pictures, modeling, posing, laughing, and when you close your eyes, all you can hear is traffic sounds, horns, screaming, and peddlers with their incredibly annoying, fake, squeaky toys. There is a constant jumble of different languages and schoolchildren screaming and laughing in Italian. I thought to myself, “This is not what I was expecting. I thought it would be cleaner and quieter.” To be honest, when I heard, “The Spanish Steps”, I imagined golden steps, sun kissed by the warm Spanish sun, and senoritas selling red roses in billowy skirts. The Leowe, Dior, Sephora, Longchamp, and Missoni shops across the street are distracting to the ancient feel of the steps and piazza. But despite the chaos and noise, I realized that this is interesting and different compared to the other countless Roman piazzas. It seems disgraceful and disrespectful to have all these loud people with their modern technology and cameras. But then again this is just like other Roman piazzas; old, worn, busy. The modern attire of the pedestrians is in stark contrast with the neutral tones of the steps. However, the architecture surrounding the steps has a hint of the theatrical flare of Spain, with its warm terracotta oranges, yellows, and browns. There is a sense of the old mixed with the new, as the ancient structures are mingled with the slightly newer looking buildings. Across the street the rooftop gardens on top the apartments over the aforementioned modern stores look like an oasis of peace and beauty compared to this noise and chaos. If the piazza was not touristy and busy I can imagine it as quiet, ominous, noble, and an awe-inspiring place, full of history and power. But in the end, this stark contrast brought to mind the role of fallen man and his treatment of the beautiful and spacious theater of natural creation. As I squinted through the droplets of rain, it was obvious that the obelisk is off-centered. I wondered…why in the world is the obelisk so obviously off centered? But somehow it works. It is a reminder of the imperfection of this life. While the steps are a reminder of the journey of life, and that the dwelling of God at the top is the finish goal, the flaw of the obelisk brings one’s imagination back down to earth again, where we are temporary residents.
And so: Life is like the worn yet noble stone of the Spanish steps, where poets, strangers, and travelers alike all mingle and participate in the drama, with the residence of the Divine One waiting for us at the top.

love - why is it so hard?

Charity is patient, is kind: charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely; is not puffed up;

Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil;

Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth;

Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity never falleth away…

 (1 Corinthians 13:4-8 Douay Rheims)

I was reading Corinthians the other day for my Theology course here in Rome. I've never given St. Paul the attention he deserves in my life - He truly is brilliant, and I've been missing out. He gives the Corinthians, as well as countless readers of his letters to this day, an understanding of true love in his highest form. The Greeks believed that there were three kinds of love, Eros, Philia, and Agape, and it makes sense why the earliest Christians adapted this Greek word of agape into their understanding of Divine Love. I was reading Archbishop Fulton J Sheen for as well, and he speaks on the matter of true love, confirming St. Paul’s words in many of his own statements actually. He says that “Christians had to find a new word to describe that love of God who became man and who died for our sins. And so they took this rarely used (Greek) word, agape, and they used it for love. For example, that famous, most beautiful passage on love in all literature is in the letter of Paul to the Corinthians.” He explains why Christians used the word agape, because “Love is, in agape, something that is unreciprocated; is loving when love is not returned.” Also, when Jesus asks St. Peter in John 21 this question of love three times, “Peter, do you love me?”, He used a different word for the word ‘love’ the third time and that was recorded as the word Agape. Obviously there is a strong connection between St. Paul’s and Archbishop Sheen’s definition of love. This Christian definition of love is pure sacrifice, and involves putting others’ wants and needs above oneself. Both St. Paul and Archbishop Sheen point to the cross as the pinnacle example of what love truly is. I saw this link between their teachings on love in the comparison of their writings. “Love burdens itself with the wants and woes and losses and even the wrongs of others” Fulton says, and again he confirms the words of Paul, “Love is the key to the mystery. Love by its very nature is not selfish, but generous. It seeks not its own, but the good of others. The measure of love is not the pleasure it gives-that is the way the world judges it-but the joy and peace it can purchase for others.” My meditation after this research was that by putting others needs above our own in little ways, in forgiveness and humility, we can actually, literally, attain this divine Love of which St. Paul speaks about. Through the intercession of the faithful souls of St. Paul the Apostle and Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen, I honestly hope to attain this goal of True Love, of ultimate sacrifice, although it sounds pretty much impossible.

in the middle..

The river is white 

It's tangled and dry 

But I still remember you here 

Swimming in the middle

 A red bird sings 

From the sycamore tree 

Some kind of eloquent echo

 I live in the middle 

The shadows and leaves unlock my heart 

Just like a key, like a key 

And bring you right back home to me 

All of the years 

I have spent here 

I have never wandered 

I live in the middle 

The way you sing unlocks my heart 

Just like a key, like a key 

And brings you right back home to me

If only my feet could fall as fast as a heart does 

I would be so long gone 

But I'm stuck, stuck under your thumb 

I can't get up I can't get up, up I can't get up 

If only my eyes could see as high as a mountain 

Or wherever your heart's gone 

But I have fallen on the bank of this river 

I can't get up I can't get up, up I can't get up 

If only my heart could speak into this river 

And you'd drink me up 

I could be free of all these lonesome shivers

 I could give myself up (give myself up) 

We all go back to the river 

We will all come undone 

And there you will be, my love, with the faintest touch 

And I will give myself up 

Give myself up, up I will give myself up

lilac wine

Props to Miley Cyrus for a beautiful rendition of James Shelton's "Lilac Wine". I even love this one better than Jeff Buckley's version. 

innocence

Riverside - Agnes Obel

The American Heritage Dictionary defines vulgar as "of or associated with the great masses of people as distinguished from the educated or cultivated classes; common...spoken by, or expressed in language spoken by, the common people; vernacular...deficient in taste, delicacy, or refinement...ill-bred; boorish; crude...obscene or indecent; offensive; coarse or bawdy." When I read this I think: South Park. SNL. PB and Cosmo Magazines. American Pie. Dumb and Dumber. And every other Box Office hit of modern comedy films. Most thirteen year old American kids can quote entire skits of Dane Cook, without skipping a beat, or a cussword for that matter. It's frustrating and discouraging to engage in, or even hold a conversation about anything at all with most people. The masses have been dumbed down, broadened, and brain-washed. Sigh. I would like to snatch up all those children sitting on the curb that are tweeting or texting, and throw them into a library. Maybe lock them in there for a week or two. Children need nature and art to gently nourish and develop them into clear-thinking adults. "Art, to many, is cultivated and refined by
nature, and therefore separate from the great masses."(Comparative Literature and Culture: Purdue University) Instead of influential literature, art, music, and a motivating free-roam environment to stimulate their imagination, children and teens are faced with shallow modern paperbacks, technology, and entertainment to fill their time. If the brain is like a thirsty sponge, what nourishment are they absorbing?? Last weekend when I babysitted again, these eight and ten year old boys sat in front of a tv screen. The entire five hours. They went from video game to video game, to tv show, to movie, to Wii, then back to vegetating in front of another tv show until they passed out. All my attempts to distract them from technology and engage them in something more stimulating was of no avail. And in fact, literature or music was futile as their collection of books was direly lacking, and there was not an instrument in sight. They also live in the city, so there was nothing outside to attract them. Like most young boys their attention span was short, impatient, and restless. It was painful for me to see them cooped up, restricted, and dulled down by technology and entertainment. I call this nature-deficit disorder. Sigh. I would like to scoop up every video gamer pro and every Nickelodeon vegetate and throw them into a forest. Perhaps give them a few fairytales to absorb into their little thirsty imaginations. Over and out. I believe my rant is over.

pick up a book.

The Cosmonaut - Fall On Your Sword

Living in modernity is like living in a box. Our lives, and everything we do in our daily lives, revolve around boxes now. Am I not typing into a box at this very moment? Sometimes I wonder what the world would be like if capitalism, industrialization, secularization, rationalization, the nation-state, and an ambition to obliterate God from all Modern Thinking, had never happened, or at least had never developed to the horrific degree that it has. The infatuation with celebrities, and the obsession with technology is simply unavoidable in modern culture. Exploitation rampages through all forms of entertainment, and it is unheard of (with the exception of rare cases) to be capable of surviving without technological dependency. Political democrazy, femininity, and many other cultural values are entirely skewed and perverted, modern best-seller literature is soiled in erotic portrayals of love and beauty, and reality and purpose in meaningless watered-down fiction. If one puts the question "What is Truth?" (yes, with a capital T) to a group of secular college students, your average young American will most likely reply with his belief that truth is relative. Let's take our regular modern girl, growing up in America in the twenty-first century. Her character is developed in a whirlwind of pre-puberty boyfriend relationships, a broken family, Lady Gaga infatuation, schoolmate peer pressure, narcotics, iPods, Facebook, Twitter, exploitation, and a love-starved culture demanding her to conform to it's erotic perversion of Beauty. Let's look at a few icons, or idols, within the past couple centuries. We've got Monroe, Madonna, Britney, Gaga, Paris Hilton, Bundchen, and Miley. What do they all have in common? Fashion, abused talent, immorality, and chiefly: careers in personal erotic exploitation. Where is the fulfillment in life? I just don't get it. In Modernity, there is no pursuit of an eternity. Our culture pushes for pleasure, and partaking in the moment, the here and now. No wonder the majority of America dives into drugs (legal and non-legal) and alcohol, searching for more feeling, more meaning in life. There are no healthy role models, healthy outlets towards Reality. Now let's jump back to within the past several hundred years. The leading women (fictional and non-fictional) were the heroines of virtue, the stronghold towers of femininity: Penelope, Lady of Shallot, Jane Eyre, Lady Marian, Jeanne d'Arc, Galadriel, Anne Elliot, Elizabeth Bennet, Rebecca the Jewess, Lady Rowena... etc. etc. I hope that someday younger generations will turn back to ancient literature, and find meaning within these beautiful characters. Perhaps more youth will discover significance and principle behind the chivalric ideal of womanhood: she who is fair, chaste, virtuous, and loyal to Truth. 

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.    

-Wordsworth

tribute to once

A favorite scene from a favorite film. Indifferently writing and recording a song on a cassette at three in the morning in her jammies..on an impulse because she couldn't sleep. Not bad. Here's to Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová, and the superb film, Once. Ahh Once, proof that talent and not budget makes a good film. After all, it did win an Oscar! As an indie, foreign low-budget film, I was surprised when I heard it had been developed into a play on Broadway last year. I don't think I see it as Broadway material...I would like to see it though..I'm sure it would be interesting..

                                                                             


Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová


The Hill - Markéta Irglová

 

Gold - Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová


All The Way Down - Glen Hansard

perspective

Hungry Ghosts - I Don't Think...



      Within our lifetimes, we've marveled as biologists have managed to look at ever smaller and smaller things. And astronomers have looked further and further into the dark night sky, back in time and out in space. But maybe the most mysterious of all is neither the small nor the large: it's us, up close. Could we even recognize ourselves, and if we did, would we know ourselves? What would we say to ourselves? What would we learn from ourselves? What would we really like to see if we could stand outside ourselves and look at us?
-Richard Berendzen (Another Earth)

someone that I used to know

These crazy Canadians were smart enough to invite Sarah Blackwood to help them cover that beloved aussie, Gotye's hit.....on a single guitar....  Brilliant!!! and I'm a hooked follower. 

Although I love Blackwood, I prefer Kimbra's original vocals... just sayin'.

Gotye's vid was a bit risque for my little blog so the audio will have to suffice. :) I'm picky about his dreamy music, and look forward to him creating more passionate songs like this one. Gotye, why don't you sing louder more often?

Someone That I Used To Know - Gotye (feat. Kimbra)

Mademoiselle Agnès

'but the sound always finds me, despite them being dead and gone...'

Kin - Radical Face



         There is a look of wistful abandonment in ancient doorways, garden gates, structural ruins, decayed pathways. They evoke a sense of nostalgia and tempt the viewer's curiosity with the secret stories they hold. Can you walk past an old door, ruined stairway, corroded home, or ancient architecture without stopping a moment, at least in your thoughts, to contemplate and wonder their history? Who laid those stones...what hands bolted that lock...what persons walked across that threshold, and what were their lives? The Secret Garden is one of my favorite stories, and the garden gate, protected by the tangled wall of vines in the book reminds me of the hidden story behind that ancient garden door. Of course, the tale within those walls is mysteriously tragic and shadowed in a dark past, but all doors are different. Doors can be experienced in a spiritual way as well, as anyone will attest to.. opportunities, nightmares, moments of inscape, discoveries, journeys, etc etc etc. All doors give a slight intimation, or warning, of what lies behind the lock. However you view or experience doorways, whether in the material form or the spiritual sense, its cannot be denied that a door causes the human mind to speculate its concealment and privacy, what lies beyond, what enlightenment the unknown holds for our wonder.

"Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe." - Augustine of Hippo

beauté de la souffrance

La Valse d'Amelie - Yann Tiersen


beauté de la souffrance.....a subject my thoughts turn to occasionally. this poem by Hopkins that I studied in 20th century literature helped me express my understanding of the mystery of suffering and the possible hand of divinity within its experiences. 

The Wreck of the Deutschland by Gerald Manley Hopkins is a contemplative meditation on his philosophical view of suffering. Its also a compassionate dedication to five Franciscan nuns aboard the ship who were exiled from Germany on account of their Christian Faith whose ship runs aground in a December blizzard in the year 1875. In Hopkins’ contemplations of original sin, suffering is the only means to attaining wisdom due to the sins of man. A key principle behind the poet’s writings is the theory of inscape and haecceitas. (1. Haecceitas is the premise that everything is loved into existence. It is the unique essence beyond the unifying essence. In other words, creation pulses with the heart of God and this is a constant reminder of His existence. Through nature He is reflected like a mirror, and His fingerprints are pressed indelibly on all things perceived by our senses, the physical world, and even moments in history. 2. Inscape is the uniqueness of a thing, the oneness of its being in which it expresses its purpose of creation. 3. Instress is a passionate perception directed to an object, a sudden revelation. Through this moment of epiphany comes an understanding of inscape.) However, secular philosophies do not expressly define inscape in a religious sense as does Hopkins, making his profoundly distinctive. Suffering in itself is so often misunderstood by the majority of humanity, being strictly avoided by the “common sense” to seek happiness and evade unnecessary discomfort. Conversely Hopkins delineates his viewpoint with shocking language to startle the common projections of modernity, prodding the reader’s conscience. Observably the poet recognizes suffering in this mystical, haecceitas sense that suffering is unavoidable. God is contrastingly illustrated as “lightning and love”, as “winter and warm”, a strong connection to the necessary paradox of suffering and love. His creation is palpable, stimulated by feeling, and not comfortably numb as a mass amount of humanity wishes or strives to be if they cannot attain happiness on this earth. The storm is a symbolic imagery of God’s love through suffering, its role plays as an inscape to the power, beauty, and majesty of God. Through the beauty, glory, and deadliness of this elemental nature we see the beauty, glory, and deadliness of the Hand behind its force. In a sense all points to Him because He willed all into being. Captivated by the terrifying face of the storm, which depicts the terrifying face of God’s wrath, the poet is faced with the frightening actuality of capitulating to this unavoidable reality. He is stricken by the “frown of his face before me, the hurtle of hell behind…and fled with a fling of the heart to the heart of the Host.” This moment of instress is a reminder of the presence of God found in suffering and also elemental power. God is not to be blamed entirely for the horrors we come across in living. The line “hard down with a horror of height, and the midriff astrain with leaning of, laced with fire of stress” aptly describes how life itself can be in many cases. In Hopkins’ inscape he points back to where the roots of horror stem from man’s original sin. Because of humanity’s weakness and forgetfulness man either has no understanding of suffering or he wavers in the face of suffering and “horror”. But in reality the death of each of these drowning individuals is a gateway to their life. Death in itself is a painful experience for all and it is necessary to attain true happiness. The crucifixion is the ultimate inscape of love and suffering, and even the greatest saints received the worst sufferings as a gift from God for willingly choosing to suffer in His name. In His words “there is always respite in suffering, an ark available to all who repent.” I see the storm as a symbol of God’s love.... As we pursue the paradoxical mystery of haecceitas, it becomes evident that these two are never separated: suffering and love.  With the knowledge of such comes a deeper inscape to true justice and democracy.  Hopkins, through his language of poetry, strives to relate the most puzzling and seemingly contradictory message to his audience.  Suffering has never been, and most likely will never be fully understood or accepted. Particularly by myself. Its no wonder the reader is struck when realizing Hopkins’ message is that when God seems to wring our heart out in anguish at times until it bleeds with its wounds and we cry out “Enough!” in hurt outrage, He was actually lovingly fondling it all along. Meditating upon that we find this is the very opposite of numbness. Our vulnerability to His love is like a raw nerve. The realization of this, whether through literature or a moment of inscape, is truly shocking, as it entails so much feeling. Studying the character of the nun, we see her as an instrument making music amidst a babble of torment. Tolling like a bell, she is bringing, or rather singing souls to Christ. Amidst all this the nun is being continuously spat at by the waves, stung and blinded even as she prays. She is banned from the land of her birth for her Christian faith, hated and exiled by her people, and yet she joyfully embraces a situation that most people would admit as a personal moment of despair. And this leads us to the crucifixion, which is the mystical meaning of love, the ultimate love in suffering. The crucifixion is basically as deep as it gets. The nun baptizes her worst moment with prayer, and she has her reward throughout all this suffering. “She has Thee for the pain.” She really is the finger of providence; a St. John the Baptist figure. Her voice above the pounding waves to the despairing sailors is like a bell to ring the love of God into the sheep’s’ heart, to startle them back to safety, back to their Shepherd. It is a reminder that God is also the ancient lord of death, and that the storm is necessary to put things right, to bring peace. Unbeknownst to the sailors, God is lord of the storm, He is in it. In Thomistic language, God is staunch. Staunch is to stop and to heal. He stops, prevents, and heals. God is quench. Quench is to satisfy, to put out. That which extinguishes the desire satisfies it, for example, you cannot look at the crucifixion without looking at and understanding the resurrection. They go hand in hand. Again, God is kind as in kindred, king and kindly. Royally reclaiming His own through storm and suffering in these three senses. It is then we come to grasp that our true home, our true ultimate happiness, is solely to be found in the love of Christ’s burning fire...

"autumn wins you best by this, its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay..."

la dispute - yann tiersen

"Madness, provided it comes as a gift from heaven, is the channel by which we receive the greatest blessings.... If a man comes to the door of poetry untouched by the madness of the Muses, believing that technique alone will make him a great poet, he and his sane compositions never reach perfection, but are utterly eclipsed by the performances of the inspired madman."

--Plato

Autumn approaches… been reading the French poet Peguy, studying the German language with my little sis, transforming my diet to a whole new level of health (thanks to my family’s newly enforced dieting menu plan). Gah I just want a donut. Enough with the salads, fruit, and microscopic portions of oatmeal. Barefoot running every other day, and noticing a steadily increasing passion for running, and longer distances. Born to Run by Christopher McDougall honestly changed my perspective on life, I keep that book next to my bible. The incessant rainstorms here in Florida give ample room for meditating, reading, and my sewing projects. This skirt pattern I’m working on is making me a little uneasy, as its being hand-sewn. I need a machine…this is gunna take forever!!!


         Milton is one of my favorite poets, and Paradise Lost my favorite book. Whether it is theologically accurate or not doesn’t concern me, I just simply love the brilliance of Milton’s mind, woven in beautiful language throughout this literary masterpiece. Book IV is particularly my favorite, as I find it the most intriguing. Milton expresses, through profound use of prose, the powerful linguistic seductions of Satan to Eve. Easily said, Satan’s intention is to find either Adam or Eve and persuade them to disobey the command of God by eating of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Preferring to find Eve alone in the garden, he gleefully spots her alone and confronting her in the form of a snake he proceeds to carry out his evil quest in different manners of speech. He starts with excessive praises of her beauty, her superiority to man, and her near likeness to divinity. Eve (oh Eve…) is amazed that a snake can talk and intrigued, she questions him as to how this came to be. He tells her that he was endowed with this power because he ate the fruit of a certain tree and that she too can have this power and knowledge. He then leads her to the alleged tree where she recognizes the forbidden tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Satan then persuades her into thinking that she is superior to all creation and with these delusions of grandeur she begins to desire to be ranked parallel with God. She eats of the fruit and immediately fears her separation with Adam regarding her fate. Running to him she persuades him to eat of the fruit as well and share her fate. Because of the unique language of Satan and the use of reason, observation, scientific language, and experience in his discourse with Eve, his devious wiles prove effective, with fateful consequences. So, his intelligence, knowledge, and experience impress her and in her naivety she trusts him…

I see this story in Genesis as a very figurative tale, told in this form simply to inform mankind of his weak nature, and the necessity of avoiding and learning from our mistakes. The seducer/snake/satan/whatever could be anything that tempts us into sin. Satan appears to Eve in the physical form of a serpent. He is precisely described as a “Mere Serpent” and this most likely means that he was simply a serpent and not the half-woman and half-serpent that he was often depicted as in paintings before and during Milton’s time. He approaches her as a majestic serpent and tries to “lure her eye” towards him. In his first speech to Eve he primarily flatters her beauty with smooth compliments. He works on her pride and takes advantage of her naivety out of extreme envy and hate: “what hither brought us, hate, not love, nor hope/ Of paradise for Hell, hope here to taste/ Of pleasure, but all pleasure to destroy…other joy/ To me is lost.” He calls her “sovran mistress” and his use of this word sovran brings to mind when he previously called the fallen angels by this adjective as well. Not only is he everything despicable and filthy, but he’s also redundant… Ok, so then he describes his state when in her presence as: “I approach thee thus, and gaze/ Insatiate,” While flattering her with this adjective it also seems to represent in a way his defective view of all creation as desiring something insatiate. He talks about how the animals do not appreciate her beauty and are “shallow to discern half what in thee is fair”. He verbally notes also that she is appreciated by one man only when he says, “one man except/ Who sees thee? (and what is one?)” And he tells her she deserves and ought to be recognized as a goddess ceaselessly by a numberless amount of angels: “who shouldst be seen/ A Goddess among Gods, ador’d and serv’d/ By Angels numberless, thy daily Train.” By this point Eve does not seem to be entirely taken in by his cajoling but rather, astonished and intrigued that an animal has the power to talk. Satan continues to play on her pride, working on this as he’s already got her curiosity rather peaked. He goes further, placing her in equality with God Himself: “But all that fair and good in thy Divine/ Semblance, and in thy Beauty’s heav’nly Ray/ United I beheld; no Fair to thine/ Equivalent or second, which compell’d/ Mee thus…to come/ And gaze, and worship thee of right declar’d/ Sovran of Creatures, universal Dame."

After his praises in the physical aspect he moves on to talk of interior facets, in particular the ability to reason. He claims the fruit of the tree instilled in him a higher degree of reason: “Strange alteration in me, to degree/ Of Reason in my inward Powers,” Still unwary and amazed, Eve asks him to bring her to this tree but upon seeing it she recognizes it as the tree forbidden by God, saying, “Serpent, we might have spared our coming hither/ Fruitless to mee, though Fruit be here to excess…of this Tree we may not taste nor touch;/ God so commanded, and left that Command/ Sole Daughter of his voice; the rest, we live/ Law to ourselves, our Reason is our Law.” Basically, she’s stating that His command was revealed merely through a voice from Heaven and more of a revelation than an absolute direct command. She therefore mitigates God’s strict forbiddance to eat of the Tree of Knowledge and particularly notes her independence outside of this divine command, relying on her reasoning as law. Perhaps this is because of her interest and belief in the serpent’s story and because of a desire to partake in the fruit as well. Satan then claims that using the great power of the tree to reason he can scrutinize this questionable imposition and sympathize with man. He boldly questions the justice of God for inflicting death on His creation, saying “I feel thy Power/ …to trace the ways/ Of highest Agents deem’d however wise.” After presenting God’s command as questionable he goes on to claim it as completely untrue: “Queen of this Universe, do not believe/ Those rigid threats of Death; ye shall not Die.” He speaks of death as a trivial and vague thing, “the pain/ Of Death…whatever thing Death be”. He argues that God cannot therefore be a good or just God if He causes her to be inflicted with death or pain of any kind… (this always makes me think of the subject of suffering as expressed in the Wreck of the Deutschland). “God therefore cannot hurt ye, and be just;/ Not just, not God; not fear’d then, nor obeyed:/ Your fear itself of Death removes the fear.” He then concludes that the reason for God’s command to not eat of the fruit assuredly was to keep man in constant awe or fear, and in ignorance of true knowledge and from sharing in His divine power. He says “Why then was this forbid? Why but to awe,/ Why but to keep ye low and ignorant,/ His worshippers; he knows that in the day/ Ye Eat thereof, your Eyes/…shall perfectly be then/ Op’n’d and clear’d, and ye shall be as Gods” He finishes by entreating her to eat of the fruit: “Goddess humane, reach then, and freely taste.” His paradoxical name for her touches on the possibility of soon becoming god-like and is also a reminder of her mere and impaired humanity if she does not eat the fruit. 
I find it extremely hard in understanding Milton’s character of Satan… He’s complex, inhuman…just utterly void of life. Through his spite Satan causes Eve’s loss of salvation and hope because of his own dire loss of all salvation and hope. In using his deft guile Satan is too often successful in snaring unsuspecting or careless souls. Milton aptly relates the state of these two creatures that have fallen from the grace of God through the sin of pride, and to the strong tendency of modern man towards pride. As Eve was foolishly seduced through her vanity and naivety, Adam was quite un-involved in her protection and weakly convinced by her entreaties. This lack of Manliness on is part is equally matched by her degenerated role as Woman. Purity and Strength are a battle worth fighting for, and this story hopefully will serve solely as an example of what to personally avoid every.single.day. Eve’s false perception of herself as impaired, compared to the serpent, is ironical because her soul is pure and the serpent’s is not. It seems that overall Milton was trying to express a depiction of and his profound sorrow for a fallen humanity. It seems he is relating this knowledge of the origins of mankind’s fallen state to us so that mankind will fight to regain once again his Paradise lost.

"Hope is a little girl, nothing at all…

What surprises me, says God, is hope. 

And I can’t get over it. 

This little hope who seems like nothing at all. 

This little girl hope." - Peguy