Showing posts with label Spirituality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spirituality. Show all posts

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Plans for the Future

When one's significant other adopts the status of impregnation, one tends to reflect in ways that are not necessarily common to his nature.  In some cases this takes the form of planning for the future.  I have compiled a list of things to be accomplished by my offspring in chronological order.  Assuming I do not perish in childbirth or the assistance thereof, I will provide this list to the little growth upon its ingression.  I may return to the subject after further reflection, but as my mood stands, the chemical depository must:

  1. Speak in full sentences before it can walk
  2. Swim at least 2 legal strokes before it is weaned
  3. Sleep 8 hours a night or learn to cry "mama", not "aaah"
  4. Recognize the difference between a trope and a theme before it recognizes the difference between milk and juice
  5. Learn to read before it learns to change the channel
  6. Potty train itself by age 1
  7. Know how to mix a good drink or to open a beer
  8. Select an appropriate mate
  9. Select an appropriate pre-school with fast-track liberal arts focus and college choices posted on the wall
  10. Learn to fail in appropriate circumstances so as to undermine and disguise its inherent genius
  11. Learn to cheat only when it already knows the answers, but has more important things to do in life than simple mathematics or scientific equations
  12. Learn to appreciate the plight of the lunch-lady, yet despise her insolent ungratefulness
  13. Stay out of petty arguments by means of erudite sarcasm cleverly disguised as "pussying out"
  14. Know the appropriate moment in which to establish dominance in social situations
  15. Graduate Kindergarten in the middle of the class
  16. Read every book in the house before getting a new one from the Library
  17. Be able to adequately explain in concise detail the central purpose of any book or be forced to read it again
  18. Spend all of second grade in silence and learn the distinction between false humility and vain conceit
  19. Successfully accomplish the requirements for the USA Junior National Team
  20. Describe in detail the intricate relationship between Farmer and Samurai in Kurosawa's films
  21. Build a little empire out of some crazy garbage called the blood of the exploited working class.
  22. Skip fourth grade
  23. Learn not to ask why everyone else is so slow to realize that it is indeed the rightful ruler of the world out loud
  24. Spend the next twelve years in college studying and appreciating the minute pleasures of life.
By this time, the brood will be of age and wisdom enough to return to its mate and determine its path of success.  At this point it will have many options:
  1. Become the first great American author
  2. Write an exposition of the modern English language that reveals how inferior it is in comparison to modern Russian
  3. Win 9 Gold medals at the Olympic games
  4. Become a hermit
  5. Birth a child
  6. Take over the world
  7. Destroy the world
Any final realization, or all of them, is acceptable.

Friday, October 16, 2009

Dystopia in Kentucky

 A few miles west of Cincinnati, near the northern Kentucky town of Petersburg, there’s a gleaming new monument to Christianist ideology called the Creation Museum. It was built by an Australian Biblical literalist named Ken Ham, the founder of Answers in Genesis, at a cost of twenty-seven million dollars, raised mostly in small donations. It opened over Memorial Day weekend with a blast of media attention (Edward Rothstein wrote two pieces about it for the New York Times), and since then ten thousand people a week have been flocking to its exhibits. Last Sunday, on a visit to my in-laws in Lexington, I joined them.
More here.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

The Humble and Defecatory Posture (and Unpredictably Irregular Poetry Exposure #12)

Something humble, placid even, about inert feet under stall doors.  The defecatory posture is an accepting posture, it occurs to him.  Head down, elbows on knees, the fingers laced together between the knees.  Some hunched timeless millennial type of waiting, almost religious.  Luther's shoes on the floor beneath the chamber pot, placid, possibly made of wood, Luther's 16th century shoes, awaiting epiphany.  The mute quiescent suffering of generations of salesmen in the stalls of train-station johns, heads down, fingers laced, shined shoes inert, awaiting the acid gush.  Women's slippers, centurion's dusty sandals, dock-worker's hobnailed boots, Pope's slippers.  All waiting, pointing straight ahead, slightly tapping.  Huge shaggy-browed men in skins hunched just past the firelight's circle with wadded leaves in one hand, waiting.
Infinite Jest - David Foster Wallace
Shittard
Squitard
Crackard
     Turdous.
Thy bung
Hath flung
Some dung
      on us.
Filthard
Cackard
Stinkard:
     St. Antonie's fire seize on
           thy toane,
If thy
Dirty
Dounby
     Thou do not wipe ere
            thou be gone.

Will you have any more of it?  Yes, yes (answered Grangousier.)  Then said Gargantua,

A ROUNDLAY
In shiting yesday I did know
The sesse I to my arse did owe:
The smell was such came from that slunk,
That I was with it all bestunk:
O had but then some brave Signor
Brought her to me I waited for,
       in shiting:
I would have cleft her watergap,
And joyn'd it close to my flip-flap,
Whilest she had with her fingers guarded
My foule Nackandrow, all bemerded
     in shiting.
Gargantua and Pantagruel - Francois Rabelais

Monday, August 31, 2009

Sundry Thoughts

Form, of course, does not exist in a vacuum. It is not an abstraction. In thinking of form we should keep in mind the following matters that relate to its context:
  1. Poems are written by human beings and the form of a poem is an individual's attempt to deal with a specific problem, poetic and personal.
  2. Poems come out of a historical moment, and since they are written in language, the form is tied to the whole cultural context.
  3. Poems are read by human beings, which means that the reader, unlike a robot must be able to recognize the dramatic implications of the form.
From the preface of Understanding Poetry by Cleanth Brooks and Robert Penn Warren, 3rd ed.

I found the above book, which I have wanted for many, many years (5 to be exact) in the 50 cent section of the Evanston Public Library. I love pillaging.

Similarly, I was reading an article on David Jones' The Anathemata and thinking about the nature of poetry and poetic criticism. The Symbolists of the early 20th Century would have us believe that poetry brings to life the dualism inherent in all things; the physical and the spiritual; the natural and the transcendental; the utile and the artistic. This school of thought is often known by its catch phrase, "Art for Art's sake." In After the New Criticism, Frank Lentricchia relegates to the New Critics a role of similar dualism. This common misconception is merely an age-old failure to understand the concept of incarnation. Rather than a gnostic separation of the material and the divine, the New Criticism would seek to show how the primary experience is deified in the poem by a re-structuring or re-making of the experience, in a sort of reverse incarnational activity. I may be entirely wrong, but my understanding of what little reading in Understanding Poetry I have done leads me to believe that the Formal approach to a poem leads to an understanding of the poem that does not directly relate back to primary reality--not because it ignores primary reality, but because, in the case of the poem, what actually existed at the time of the poem has been transfigured and immortalized to such an extent that to read it in (or read into it) a static setting (temporally and otherwise) would eliminate its incarnational status in the same way as trying to define the very instant in which the sacrament of the Eucharist is complete is also self-defeating.

I do not know enough about these things to continue, so I will end with a quotation from Gregory Dix, an Anglican theologian:
The whole pre-Nicene church was obviously not just denying the evidence of its senses about the bread and wine in pursuit of a phrase when it spoke of the Eucharist as being in very fact that Body and Blood of Christ which was born and crucified for us. The explanation of its almost crudely "realistic" language lies, it seems to me, in two things. First, we have to take account of the clear understanding then general in a largely Greek-speaking church of the word anamnesis as meaning a "re-calling" or "re-presenting" of a thing in such a way that it is not so much regarded as being "absent," as itself presently operative by its effects.... Secondly, and perhaps chiefly, the explanation lies in the universal concentration of pre-Nicene ideas about the eucharist upon the whole rite of the eucharist as a single action, rather than upon the matter of the sacrament in itself, as modern Westerns tend to do.
The Shape of the Liturgy, Gregory Nix, 2nd ed., found in "Incarnation Reconsidered: The Poem as Sacramental Act in "The Anathemata" of David Jones", Kathleen Henderson Staudt, Contemporary Literature, Vol. 26, No.1 (Spring, 1985), pp. 1-25

Monday, August 3, 2009

Going into The Gloom

In Timur Bekmambetov's (Nightwatch, Daywatch, Wanted, and interestingly enough, a Tim Burton children's film this summer!) Nightwatch, only spiritually gifted "others" can enter into what is called "The Gloom", wherein spiritually light or dark actions carry significant clout and affect the state of the world.

In Met. Jonah's recent speech to an ACNA (Anglican Church in North America) convention concerning unity, he quippingly described Orthodoxy as "a bunch of people who like to gather for colorful quaint rituals in the sacred gloom."

Funny, but it seems as though I remember overhearing many of the visitors to my parish describe it that way as they were leaving...

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Merton on Desire for Directed Religion

From the high, gray, expensive tower of the Rockefeller Church, huge bells began to boom. It served very well for the 11:00 mass of the little brick church of Corpus Christi. What a revelation it was, to discover so many ordinary people in one place together, more conscious of God than of one another; not there to show off their hats or their clothes, but to pray, or at least to fulfill a religious obligation, not a human one.
From The Seven Storey Mountain-Thomas Merton