safe in the ivory tower

i love academia. i am happier here than i have been in such a very long time. i have about eighty quotes that i would love to post and wax "eloquent" but i still think this is one of the best, from my great-grandmother's Manual of Prayers:

How boundless, O Jesus, is Thy love! Thou hast prepared for me, of Thy most precious Body and Blood, a divine Banquet, wherein Thou dost give Thyself to me without reserve. What hath urged Thee to this excess of love? Nothing but Thine own most loving Heart. O most worthy Heart of Jesus, furnace of divine love, receive my soul into the wounds of Thy most sacred Passion, that in this school of charity I may learn to make a return of love to that God who hath given me such wondeful proofs of His love. Amen.
edited jb

shadowlands

i fled the home of my heart to escape the phantoms of you
that hounded my thoughts so relentlessly. in each loved place,
old memories created fresh sorrows to consume me.
in the home of my childhood i sought sanctuary, buried
in business and buisness, in thoughts and cares and worries
far removed from you. for a time, it eased the pain,
these days that carried my ephemereal, novel duties.

yet i ran farther still, to far-off lands, to places
both ancient with mellow wisdom and weathered beauty
then to those still uncouth with unwieldy youth
and found a sort of solace, for a time. too soon fled gentle moments;
i climbed high, and higher still, in the world within my mind:
this ivory tower will bring me solace, and safety in reflections.
i sought to be the lady of shalott, scheming to weave words into stones
without a stair or door. as i flew higher, and wove faster
i found nought but symbols and shadows of you. the mirror
of this tower has deceived me, for it shows me
not a new world, but only one that i have carried with me.

are they yet inspired, these desires? or be they mere
conflated habits, deeply etched in memories of living?
this mind, which rises keenly to the challenges of knowledge
in Plato, Homer, languages of being, is no longer suited
to understand or explicate the motion of its anchor heart.
shall i, this shell and shadow of a keen and joyful giving,
find solace in images of love, in paltry arms of others?
where is the solace which i seek? where, then, do i find
what life portented to fulfill in you? what is the higher good
that i so relentlessly pursue? the consolation is slender, indeed,
that carries with it constancy of the disease.

mr. knightly, where art thou?

where have they all gone, indeed? the strong, manly men of grave wisdom, of "gentle courtesy" (chaucer), of integrity, of chivalry? where have the men gone? the ones who make one feel like a lady? the ones that really do believe it is a privilege and a dignity to be a woman? who treat all women as daughters of the Blessed Mother? the ones who care about respect in all its forms? the ones not afraid to reach out for fear of "giving the wrong impression?"
where are the faramirs, who can say "do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart"? the ones who love the shieldmaid, even? the darcy and the colonel brandon and the captain wentworth? the ones who will say "i'm gonna wait for you 'cause i know something about you?" the ones who are not afraid to look into your eyes? the ones who mean what they say? the ones manly enough to stand by their words?

where have they gone?

there are some. i have met some: married, or priests. "do not put your trust in princes."

sorry about the formatting ... am working on that. also, more links coming soon. in the meantime, this is my new project.

art and addiction, pt. 2: the nature of art

well, if i haven't waited so long that this debate has fallen into obscurity ... true art, as we know it, is an attempt to reach an ideal, to show the way things ought to be or the way we desire them to be. i think art is necessary now because we no longer have perfect communion with God. art is indeed sanctified by the Incarnation, but the Incarnation is only necessary because of the fall. i postulate that man's creative impulse, before the fall, was satisfied by first and foremost, God; secondly, by perfect spousal communion and the creation of life, which is (or was, before we had the priesthood) the ultimate art (i.e., creative act), and, lastly, cultivating the earth. it was not of a "guache on canvas" nature. as much as plato irks me in most ways, i do partially agree that art is an imitation of an imitation, although i think it is more of an idealistic nature than plato means.
as far as the interminable debate between truth and beauty: the ultimate end of art is beauty. true art is not didactic. nonetheless, beauty and truth are not mutually exclusive, and one cannot pursue beauty without including objective truth. a badly written novel is a "sin" to beauty, but a well-written novel that perverts the truth is not beautiful, even if it is well-done art. an artist does not have to preach in order to maintain moral integrity in beauty. to maintain strict aestheticism and say that art is separate or above morality leads ultimately to ugliness, as shown in dorian gray and in gunther von psycho (yes, this is for real). on the other hand, if a thing presents truth, but is bad art (cf. most religious art since vat. II, and all the ugly, ugly churches), the thing does violate its first end, beauty, and therefore fails as art.
i don't know if i sufficiently responded to greengirl's objections, but this is one of my favourite topics so i throw open the doors for debate and disagreement.

vocation crisis of a different colour

during my college years and for quite some time after, i agonized deeply over whether or not i was called to become a nun. the nurturing from Christendom was priceless, and the result of taking one's faith seriously, of course, is the question of religious vocation. for years, i was convinced that i was supposed to become a nun because i didn't want to, and therefore it would be the greater sacrifice and more pleasing to God. this is not to say that i did not (and do not) see the beauty of religious life. the carmelite monestary in new jersey has permanently and profoundly impressed itself on me as the most sublimely peaceful place i have ever been; excepting, now, the tomb of st. francis. and, when something is so beautiful, of course one is naturally drawn to it on some level. nonetheless, i anguished over this.
i began to notice in random conversations, however, that i was not the only one to feel this way: if it is harder, and less what i desire, then God must want it seemed to be a fairly common line of reasoning. quite a twisted one, however. yes, the religious life is objectively the higher good. that is inarguable. that does not mean, however, that one should make some sort of noble martyr of one's self and choose that way, especially if one is choosing it because it is less desired. it is okay to want the lesser good. it is still a legitimate way to holiness; it is still a good! the prelapsarian state of man was marriage, after all. perhaps it is an expression not of insufficient faith, but of humility, to accept the "lesser" vocation.
whichever way one chooses, however, all are called to a vowed state of life. perpetually drinking beer and playing poker is not legitimate long-term state of holiness. (not that there is anything wrong with either of those things, in moderation.) i tried to wriggle out of this at one point: i'm pretty sure i'm not called to be a nun but there is no way on God's green earth that i am going to gamble on any man's love again! the response was a chuckle, and a reminder that being single is, as a rule of thumb, not a vocation. some people are single and not by choice, but i have a strong suspicion that that has to do with the state of the modern world, as it were. perhaps it is due to a fear of love. love is terrifying. becoming vulnerable to a flawed human being is a terrifying prospect. but that, dear friends, is why marriage is a sacrament.
seeing as how i have several novels and excerpts to read at this moment, i must needs be off. i love academia.

remnants

"pray, love, remember"

i sat quietly this morning
with your love inside of me
burning and bursting and
swelling pulsing consuming.
i gloried in the sensation
and let it weave and twine
as sun and shadow, wood and fire.
for a moment i forgot
i am alone
and you are gone

darling do you?*

yesterday's Gospel was Luke 17:11-19 (by the old calendar), about the ten lepers who were healed and only one returned. although he had already been healed, when the leper returns to Christ, Our Lord says to him, " thy faith has made you whole.' " physical health does not necessitate spiritual health. the whole point of being Catholic is that we are made whole by the Sacrifice of Calvary, through the sacraments. we are called to be not just holy but whole. the leper was made whole when he returned to thank God. we are made whole through, praise, thanksgiving, and trust. the Offeratory verse confirms this: "In thee, O Lord, have I hoped: I said, Thou art my God, my times are in Thy hands." (Ps. 30:15-16) we are reminded of this at the beginning of every (tridintine) Mass, as the priest stands at the foot of the altar and reechoes the israelites' psalm in exile: "For Thou, O God, art my strength ... O send out Thy light and Thy truth: they have led me and brought me unto Thy holy hill, even unto Thy tabernacles ... why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquiet within me? Hope thou in God: for yet will I praise Him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God." Scripture reminds us over and over to praise God, to give Him thanks for having healed us at our very foundations. in constantly praising Him, our focus will be turned towards the countless gifts we receive every day, personally, from His hands and our eyes will be made light. "all that i am is thine, and all that i have is thine, through Mary, Thy most holy and immaculate mother." in Him is found all joy, such great joy that we ought to raise our voices with Our Lady. how easy it is to forget! how easy it is to become bound by fear, pessimism, despair, even. "life isn't easy and truth's a dreadful beauty." (abigail washburn) life can seem unbearably cruel and deceptive. our only hope for joy is to trust that God is not, that He is love and gives love and breathes love, and desires our happiness far more than we do ourselves.

also, go here, which will cause provoking thoughts. and here, which will cause great amusement.
*title of a great song by a little group called lylas: "darling do you want to live again? the broken parts will mend." a reminder that we are to be whole people, although i kind of doubt the band had Luke's gospel in mind when they wrote the song.