Late Musings: Gladdening Pieces of Doom

I should not be up at the moment, but after triumphantly finishing analyzing twelve pieces of modern  poetry, I needed, or perhaps wanted, a reward. So I write.

All the pieces (save George Orwell's amazing essay entitled Politics and the English Language) were adamantly proclaiming that life has no meaning because it is cyclical: We are born, we live, and guess what? We die!

Frustrated after analyzing these pieces, I asked a very wise person what he thought.

"Well," said my Dad, "that's only true if you're an animal."

I smiled.  He always puts things so simply, like Corrie ten Boom's father, carrying the heavy watch case.  I am not an animal, and neither are any other human beings.  Death is inevitable, but babies being born are not just another baby, despite any of Phillip Larkin's ideas.

I did laugh, however, when Larkin did and could not understand why people still believe in God. In "Church Going," he writes about how church does not satisfy any of his needs (of course it won't; one needs the personal relationship with Christ Himself.)  A few lines later, Larkin imagines what would happen if going to church went "out of style," but he is dismayed when he realizes people going to church will never be out of style because humans have an innate need to worship something above them, whether it be literally above them or above them in authority.

All the doom-sayings each piece shouted actually made me glad. It made me glad because it helps me be even more thankful for the fact that even though I will die someday, I am owned by a higher authority I worship and have a wonderful relationship with.

Instead of becoming depressed late at night by reading modern poetry chanting that all things are meaningless because they are cyclical, I was made joyful. Just because life is cyclical does not mean I have to mourn its cyclical character.  I am not an animal with a depressing fate of complete non-existence after death but a human with the purpose of worshiping and glorifying my higher authority.

God is our higher authority, and the modernistic pieces and ugly things in life should sober us (gladdening pieces of doom), but most of all make us more grateful for the love Christ has for his children.

The end.

Works Cited
Greenblatt, Stephen. The Norton Anthology of English Literature. New York: W.W. Norton, 2012. Print.

Saturday Shoot//ambulans in nix

A walk in the snow, 

Not below zero,

Rather just above.

A frosted thistle

Bedecked with crystals

Brittle to beauty.

A driveway and grass,

The fun times that passed

And those yet to come. 

Grass out of season 

Lost all its reason

When weather moved in.

  

Though lacking a lens

 I shot geese in tens...

They soon dissapeared 

 

Thorns and red berries

(Nothing like cherries) 

Bring Snow Queen to mind 'til

A cold blast of pine

Shows that it's alive,

And I don't mind the tales anymore.

Over and out, done for the day,

A locust leaf in the road lay.

Such an oddity, glad I'd spotted it, 

And with that I was glad I had abulans in nix.

In Watership Down, one of the characters stated that "many human beings say that they enjoy the winter, but what they really enjoy is feeling proof against it" (Adams 464).  I am not completely sure that statement is all true, but in a sense it is.  We feel proof against the cold sitting by our fire, but having a warm fire is completing and makes for a wonderful place to read together.  

Adams, Richard. Watership Down. New York: Scribner, 2005. Print. 

The Word So Freely Given: Count It

After attending the needy element assigned the name of school, I am finally out of the tunnel and running the home stretch. Running is quite exhilarating.

Although I do not get a break, did not fly out of state immediately after my British Literature class, and must continue through the week as if there was nothing to celebrate, I realized that even the thought of a holiday spent with family for Thanksgiving made me feel at ease.

Perhaps it's because my analysis is finished, or perhaps it is because I actually did well on a music history test. Who knows.  In short, I welcome the thought of Thanksgiving. How often is it that we actually count our blessings and name them one by one?  Some of the basic elements to be thankful for are parents, siblings (yes, even if they drive you crazy at times) the life lessons God is always teaching, and the word he so freely has given us.

Just think:  If a friend wrote a book or letter to you as large or lengthy as the Bible, that would show some serious dedication.  I have written letters, but none that match that length.  God is all about dedication, and we can show him our dedication to him by thanking him for all the blessings he has given us, especially His word.

Count your blessings. If you can't name them one by one, make an effort to do so, for it is all too often those blessings will be far too numerous for any numerical system.

Happy Thanksgiving!

(Literary analysis will be posted within the next week.) 

Snowflakes and Study Breaks

To commemorate the first official snow fall (for snow that falls and melts once it lands the upon the ground should never count; it was faint-hearted) the swing was given honors.

As the snow blustered about the trees and fell on my hair, it stood out on my red wool jacket, and I was reminded of how individual the snowflakes are. No two are alike, yet thousands fall; they fall alone or land in clumps to congregate where the wind chooses.  Appreciating God's creation for just moment is an excellent way to break a study rampage, for sometimes, sitting too long with one thing can be counter productive.

Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you'll grow double:
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?

The beginning of this poem (The Tables Turned) by William Wordsworth is carefree and appealing, but the rest of it states that one should not have to learn from books simply because Nature (...with a capital N, mind you) has all the answers.  Nature does not have all the answers to life, and it is not going to ever answer the question of why students must learn Math, as it is a created entity.  God is in control of created entities, and he did not create nature as a teacher.  It is a part of his creativity and glory, which is seen even in the tiniest, most delicate of snowflakes observed on a study break.

Sources:
The Tables Turned

Windows that Expose the Soul

Through the windows of your soul
The world is looking in to know
If love is is your eyes
Because love can't hide!

Through the weary world of lies
The world is looking in your eyes
If love can't be denied
Oh love, don't hide! 

Doesn't matter what you do, 
Your windows will expose you.
Love shines through the pure, love can cure!
Hearts to love and lights to feed,
The world is crying out in need,
For love to be in your eyes; with love, I cry, stay true.

People think I listen to weird music, but that really depends on what their definitions of "weird" are.
 
It is true that the word love is mentioned a bit much in Annie Herring's song "Stay True," (while I am actually listening to the amazing Rimsy-Korsakov's exciting "Festival at Bagdad") but the song's message is much more than a rant about staying true to love.

The eyes of a person never look or grow old. Granted, they may wear out or become blind, but eyes hold something important: Windows into souls. Eyes are the small physical element God gave us that does not, in a sense, age with a person.  Of course eyes decompose when a person leaves this earth, but this vital pair of organs remains expressive, twinkling, sharp, soft, mesmerizing.

God's love for others should show through our actions as well as our eyes, for we are called to feed His sheep and tend His flock.  No wonder eye contact is so important.

If you truly love Christ, that "stay true" love will not be able to hide: Your windows will expose you, your soul.  The world is starved for God's love; let it be communicated through your eyes.

Running on Three Cylinders

"There is no such thing as a moral or immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all."

Well, thank you so much, Mr. Wilde, but what defines something well writ?

Someone gushed to me once that the Hunger Games were "so good!!"  Sorry, but was I the only one who was bothered by the awkward present, first person tense?

Is a book simply "good" when it is capable of holding and capturing attention long enough for someone to finish it? Today, attention spans are so short it is almost embarrassing to humanity.  Exercising the brain makes one feel so invigorated, like reading philosophy and then practicing piano while thinking and criticizing Socrates because he was bullying Euthyphro. That's an extreme example, I will admit, but it works.

As for Wilde, he distorted something very important. Everyone has a worldview, and it usually seeps into an author's, artists, or creators work.  Wilde could just say that an immoral book could be written well, or a good book could be written badly (but then it would not really be a good book).

That is sometimes is true, but to state an absolute that is debatable is so very egotistical it suppresses even the natural inclination to discuss: The 'that is all' ending to Wilde's phrase simply crushes any want to dissect the phrase.

Wilde states it does not matter if a book is moral or immoral, it only matters if it was written well or poorly. That's like saying something (or worse, someone) immoral could be good if crafted well, like Iras in Ben-Hur. True, she was captivating, maybe too much so, but she was not consistent on the inside.

In doing school and reading assignments with a glazed, sleep deprived look, it's good to catch these things, especially if you're only "running on three cylinders."

Sources:
Greenblatt, Stephen. The Norton Anthology of English Literature. New York: Norton, 2012. Print.
"Running on three cylinders" is in reference to James Herriot's book, All Creatures Great and Small.