self portrait by maynard owen williams. absolutely amazing in so many ways.
Showing posts with label society. Show all posts
Showing posts with label society. Show all posts
07.17.2009
Washington DC
the smell of smoke and candles flood my senses as the reverberation of footsteps echo through this hall. this is the first place that all of these millions are receiving the silence and respect that they deserve. the only thing more appalling than the reality of this historical nightmare is the blatant disrespect that so many have displayed today when they should have been shocked and numbed into silence. the last few hours have been beyond words or descriptions, and the realization that these names raised on the walls will be concrete, physical manifestations, places on a map and marked in my memory is almost bringing me to my knees. these light, straight, unbending walls that surround me, enclosing me, give the illusion of an almost complete circle, past, reality, and future reaching fruition, a beginning and an end all in the same moment. but not quite. this octagonal memorial is simply an illusion, a representation, a wish of connecting the dots in an idealistic world. that maybe one day these events will truly be in the past, just pictures on the wall, words in a textbook, boxes in an archive. for now, however, they and what they stand for are much more important that that. maybe it will always be that way, but the inevitability of a comparable disaster lurks around every corner, in every dark alley of the world. the same mindless, commercially-driven, mass-produced mentality that degrades this museum into a hopeless tourist trap full of desperation to move on to the next exhibit, turning on an ipod in a memorial, complaining about the stench of thousands of shoes from people just like them, just a lot less fortunate. this kind of mindless, self indulgent puppet going through all these motions is what really makes this so terrifying. if they can't be lulled into humility in the face of this horror, what other atrocities will they allow or endure in their own lifetimes? what nightmares will their apathy breed? there will alwayts be monsters and demons lurking in our present reality, and there is no real way to distinguish between any other individual fighting their own personal 'dark passengers.' who will unleash these on others?
what is the difference between popular opinion and propaganda? only retroactive acknowledgment.
what feeds minds today may be discredited or interpreted differently a week, a month, a year from now. what are we willfully ignorant of? what is reality, and what is facade? who among us is capable of such things? there is no denying that such people exist, and these events are mirrored a dozen times over all around the world. the bravery of a few, the cowardice of many, the terror it should bring to all. . .it leaves my hands trembling, this pen's strokes barely capable of connecting to one another.
the smell of smoke and candles flood my senses as the reverberation of footsteps echo through this hall. this is the first place that all of these millions are receiving the silence and respect that they deserve. the only thing more appalling than the reality of this historical nightmare is the blatant disrespect that so many have displayed today when they should have been shocked and numbed into silence. the last few hours have been beyond words or descriptions, and the realization that these names raised on the walls will be concrete, physical manifestations, places on a map and marked in my memory is almost bringing me to my knees. these light, straight, unbending walls that surround me, enclosing me, give the illusion of an almost complete circle, past, reality, and future reaching fruition, a beginning and an end all in the same moment. but not quite. this octagonal memorial is simply an illusion, a representation, a wish of connecting the dots in an idealistic world. that maybe one day these events will truly be in the past, just pictures on the wall, words in a textbook, boxes in an archive. for now, however, they and what they stand for are much more important that that. maybe it will always be that way, but the inevitability of a comparable disaster lurks around every corner, in every dark alley of the world. the same mindless, commercially-driven, mass-produced mentality that degrades this museum into a hopeless tourist trap full of desperation to move on to the next exhibit, turning on an ipod in a memorial, complaining about the stench of thousands of shoes from people just like them, just a lot less fortunate. this kind of mindless, self indulgent puppet going through all these motions is what really makes this so terrifying. if they can't be lulled into humility in the face of this horror, what other atrocities will they allow or endure in their own lifetimes? what nightmares will their apathy breed? there will alwayts be monsters and demons lurking in our present reality, and there is no real way to distinguish between any other individual fighting their own personal 'dark passengers.' who will unleash these on others?
what is the difference between popular opinion and propaganda? only retroactive acknowledgment.
what feeds minds today may be discredited or interpreted differently a week, a month, a year from now. what are we willfully ignorant of? what is reality, and what is facade? who among us is capable of such things? there is no denying that such people exist, and these events are mirrored a dozen times over all around the world. the bravery of a few, the cowardice of many, the terror it should bring to all. . .it leaves my hands trembling, this pen's strokes barely capable of connecting to one another.
so long, farewell...
i leave for italy in the morning, then i'm off to greece. my bags are packed - empty journal, moleskines, and memory cards to keep me company. that and a pocket italian phrasebook.
i won't be updating on here, only on paper, until i get back on june 7th...but i would love to hear from all of you. it would be nice to hear a friendly "voice" halfway across the globe whenever i find the time to sit down in an internet cafe.
so, email me - bucklbm@millsaps.edu
oh, and this my three hundredth post (though you, the general viewing public, can't see all of them...sorry). funny how landmarks sometimes coincide.
on procrastinating
i had to look through my photos at some point today, so why not do it while i'm still only half-focused? sorted, uploaded, linked. now time to walk to john stone hall for my greek test
sorry that i'm taken aback
i woke up with the sun today...what a great way to start off the daunting day i have ahead of me. i'm back in jackson now, wasting time until i have to take my greek test this afternoon. i should start studying for my latin final, or my roman legacy final for that matter, since i have to take both tomorrow, but i'm still sitting here on my bed, fighting sleep. i keep throwing out the word surreal to try and describe the last few days, but i don't think there is any one adjective that can truly encapsulate what i have experienced. unlike the last few weeks that have been full of all-nighters and scrambling to put together term papers, my lack of sleep this past week has been punctuated by experiences i never would have expected. i'm trying to let myself be more spontaneous, live more in the moment, and it is hard...but worthwhile. i used to calculate every moment of every day, trying to thwart the unexpected with thought-out reason and definitive answers and plans so that i didn't have to face whatever chance, fortune, fate (whatever you believe in) threw my way. articulating that makes me feel like i was trying to be a stoic...a hyper-productive stoic, but still, that makes me sound like i could be in league with seneca, or someone of the like.
i can feel the weight of my sleep deprivation right behind my eyes, struggling to remain alert...but i feel the weight of my actions and the bigger issues at hand in my (insert some cliche here...heart, chest, soul).
beyond the rescue, invisible children, road trips and this growing sense of community, something else really unexpected came my way yesterday as well. i love beginnings, even if they are in medias res, and the excitement they incite. this quote reminds me a lot of my dear you (though i swear it was written before i ever read this) from a little while ago. those days are long past, but on the conceptual level it still rings true. i wish i could have some consistency in my life, but the thrill of starting something new and uncertain is more than enough. i just need to stop being so damn awkward. i can't help it...i can get a bit flustered when i have a bit of a crush.
i am in the mood for this is me smiling. obviously, i am "so excited to sleep"...but they feel like a good complement to the tone of the day.
on spontaneity
so, the jackson event ended up being a bust...so now it is new orleans or bust. this is so much bigger than me, than all of us...and i have to be a part of it. sue carrie and i will be driving down, following webb and lloyd, and we are leaving at eight tomorrow. the anticipation is killing me, and i can't sleep. i'm printing out my three pictures right now and trying to get my things together....i can't wait for this. i'm really glad i'm doing this, though it feels a little rash considering the fact that i have two finals on monday. is it bad that i don't really care?
it makes me weak...
...thinking about how badly i want to be a part of this, and how badly i want all of you to be a part of this. if i didn't have two finals on monday, i would drop everything i'm doing and drive to one of these cities and be a part of the real deal. even though jackson is just a drop in the bucket, every bit counts...so please, please, please help make this event successful. this is SO much bigger than all of us, so get up, get out, make a difference.
Rescue Riders from Jason Russell on Vimeo.
thinking about all of this makes me cry. i wish i were exaggerating, but i'm not. i....i don't have words.
Rescue Riders from Jason Russell on Vimeo.
thinking about all of this makes me cry. i wish i were exaggerating, but i'm not. i....i don't have words.
do more than just watch
this saturday, there is going to be a worldwide demonstration held by invisible children called the rescue. there are events happening everywhere, so get involved !
for more information, visit this site -
therescue.invisiblechildren.com/
or RSVP to the facebook event here -
www.facebook.com/home.php#/event.php?eid=78535706990
lessons learned
tape holds things that cannot stick
and keep leftovers in the fridge
while lessons learned go down the drain
i can't believe in everything
all the bad names gone
and the good ones were all wrong
and so i stayed up all night
slept in all day
this is my sound
thinking about tomorrow won't change how i feel today
never let your mark erase
'cause broken legs can be replaced
two steps to the finish line
three sips till i finish mine
a straw will always suck it out
close your eyes and use your mouth
and tell me about your song
and so i stayed up night
slept in all day
this is my sound
thinking about tomorrow won't change how I feel today
Lessons Learned
and keep leftovers in the fridge
while lessons learned go down the drain
i can't believe in everything
all the bad names gone
and the good ones were all wrong
and so i stayed up all night
slept in all day
this is my sound
thinking about tomorrow won't change how i feel today
never let your mark erase
'cause broken legs can be replaced
two steps to the finish line
three sips till i finish mine
a straw will always suck it out
close your eyes and use your mouth
and tell me about your song
and so i stayed up night
slept in all day
this is my sound
thinking about tomorrow won't change how I feel today
Lessons Learned
GOOD NEWS
that's right, i used all caps. for those of you who know me or read this regularly, you should already know that i don't capitalize anything (including things that should be capitalized...such as god, i, chris, sam, etc.), so if something is worthy of all caps, it must be pretty damn exciting. AND IT IS!
the jackson rescue event had been canceled, but have no fear! there are people putting together an event at mississippi college and guess what - YOU SHOULD ALL BE THERE. they are meeting tonight to get together more details, but i am going and so should you. it is this saturday and it will be amazing! for those of you who don't know what the rescue is, it is the big invisible children event for the year and it is a great way for your voice to be heard in the community. if you remember the displace me event, this is the equivalent for 2009!
if you are going, or if not, do this! contact people, get individuals motivated and be a part of the change. get up, enact the ideals you stand for, and make a difference! this is such a huge deal, and even if there aren't a lot of people at the event (which you can change by coming, too!) you are still a part of this simultaneous event that is happening all over the country and all over the world! don't believe me? go to facebook, search the rescue and filter by events. there are hundreds of people rsvped to events (561 in melbourne, australia...617 in salt lake city....1496 in chicago...1134 in boston...and countless others. austin has 825! and these are just the people with facebooks you guys!) and YOU can be a part of it!
here is an instructional video, and be sure to check back here for more information about the event once i hear back from the wonderful individuals at MC. also, if you want to see some fun examples of the youtube shout out videos, i have one a couple of entries back. get excited people :) make a difference, enact change in yourself, your peers, and the world. fight apathy and get out for this.
and, as a last thought, i will leave you with some parting words from a man i love dearly, bryce avary, the singer of this great band the rocket summer.
the jackson rescue event had been canceled, but have no fear! there are people putting together an event at mississippi college and guess what - YOU SHOULD ALL BE THERE. they are meeting tonight to get together more details, but i am going and so should you. it is this saturday and it will be amazing! for those of you who don't know what the rescue is, it is the big invisible children event for the year and it is a great way for your voice to be heard in the community. if you remember the displace me event, this is the equivalent for 2009!
if you are going, or if not, do this! contact people, get individuals motivated and be a part of the change. get up, enact the ideals you stand for, and make a difference! this is such a huge deal, and even if there aren't a lot of people at the event (which you can change by coming, too!) you are still a part of this simultaneous event that is happening all over the country and all over the world! don't believe me? go to facebook, search the rescue and filter by events. there are hundreds of people rsvped to events (561 in melbourne, australia...617 in salt lake city....1496 in chicago...1134 in boston...and countless others. austin has 825! and these are just the people with facebooks you guys!) and YOU can be a part of it!
here is an instructional video, and be sure to check back here for more information about the event once i hear back from the wonderful individuals at MC. also, if you want to see some fun examples of the youtube shout out videos, i have one a couple of entries back. get excited people :) make a difference, enact change in yourself, your peers, and the world. fight apathy and get out for this.
and, as a last thought, i will leave you with some parting words from a man i love dearly, bryce avary, the singer of this great band the rocket summer.
i'm thinking 'bout other things i heard about today
all this week and tomorrow
and how these hands can create some better things for bettering. . .
do you feel
the weight of the world singing sorrow
or to you is it just not real
cause you got your own things
yeah we all have our things i guess
i guess my mind wanders off
from time to time
sometimes i convince myself
that all is fine in the world
it's not mine
why should i
have to try
to fix things i didn't create or contrive
. . . can you feel the souls behind what's going on
all this week and tomorrow
and how these hands can create some better things for bettering. . .
do you feel
the weight of the world singing sorrow
or to you is it just not real
cause you got your own things
yeah we all have our things i guess
i guess my mind wanders off
from time to time
sometimes i convince myself
that all is fine in the world
it's not mine
why should i
have to try
to fix things i didn't create or contrive
. . . can you feel the souls behind what's going on
and for good measure, since i love TRS so much, here is a cool in-studio version of so much love
talk - action = shit
"i honestly don't know what would happen to him if he were successful and stopped having things to battle against."
i just watched this great documentary, dig, on hulu (you can watch it here if you are interested) about the dandy warhols and the brian jonestown massacre. these two bands started out as friends, ended up as enemies. the dandy warhols ultimately succeeded, but the brian jonestown massacre has constantly been falling apart because of the singer, anton, and his self-destructive nature. anton is so crazy, it makes parts of the film really hard to swallow...but the reality of it all is mind boggling. it is really easy for us, the listeners, to assume that everything is this perfect ideal behind the scenes with musicians...or to assume that maybe people writing revolutionary music are doing mind-opening drugs from time to time (maybe even habitually)...but to see them strung out, kicking audience members in the head and burning every bridge they ever are able to construct...it is really hard to take. does writing a good album or building up your own ego ever compensate for not being able to see your own son?
it is also interesting to see how chance and fortune brought two bands together and through a few simple choices, led them down two very different paths. what role do we really play in our own lives?
any one with potential can identify with anton, and i think that is what is so powerful about this documentary - it is a lesson in unfulfilled potential. what could we really be if we weren't holding ourselves back?
one of my kind
this film is really stunning, and i loved it. i am going to watch it again later and really give it the attention it deserves, but cinematically it is so engaging and beautiful. there is something so beautiful about the simplicity of it all. there were two little quotes at the end that really struck home for me, so i typed them up. while you still have the chance though, you should go download it for yourself and donate to a good cause (if you are so inclined), but otherwise it is free for the time being.
this run that we're on...it's going to end and it is never going to be the same. everything is life is like that. like if you hang out with a person for a week, it is never going to be like that again. the next time you see them, it's not going to be the same, you know? it's maybe going to be awesome in a different way or worse or whatever but its not going to be like that. so, we've been going for so long and like on one kind of vibe, i mean it changes but it's had it's ups and downs but once this record is over and we leave this studio...it's over. we'll get back together and it will be sweet then, too, but this is over. - jason boesel
i try not to hold on too tight to anything, really. there's a time and place for everything. - conor oberst
this run that we're on...it's going to end and it is never going to be the same. everything is life is like that. like if you hang out with a person for a week, it is never going to be like that again. the next time you see them, it's not going to be the same, you know? it's maybe going to be awesome in a different way or worse or whatever but its not going to be like that. so, we've been going for so long and like on one kind of vibe, i mean it changes but it's had it's ups and downs but once this record is over and we leave this studio...it's over. we'll get back together and it will be sweet then, too, but this is over. - jason boesel
i try not to hold on too tight to anything, really. there's a time and place for everything. - conor oberst
rescue
also, i appreciate the fact that they used passion pit in this video :) i still get chills thinking about invisible children....bring me back here. i wish i was good enough, or whatever, to be a roadie.
what's happened to the american dream?
so, im going back through old notebooks, so expect a few disjointed entries, and hopefully ill get through south by southwest tonight. that's my goal, since i'm putting off school work yet again. i only wrote down a few lines from watchmen when i read it in the fall, but here they are.
all we ever see of stars are their old photographs
the cogs are falling
everything is frozen. i am starting to accept that i shall never feel cold on warm again
we have labored long to build a heaven, only to find it populated with horrors
----
apparently all i had to say about my own life this day was "no orientation, linear gone." for some reason those four words convey much more than their number of syllables should be expected to get across.
all we ever see of stars are their old photographs
the cogs are falling
everything is frozen. i am starting to accept that i shall never feel cold on warm again
we have labored long to build a heaven, only to find it populated with horrors
----
apparently all i had to say about my own life this day was "no orientation, linear gone." for some reason those four words convey much more than their number of syllables should be expected to get across.
there is just the right amount of distraction
before i get too involved with my south by southwest updates, i typed up selections from this book i just finished, which was great. i highly recommend every one reading it...these selections don't even do it justice. the first section are from the compiling editor's introduction, taken from c.s. lewis himself, and the rest are from the selections of other of lewis' works.
---
'little by little,' he wrote, 'she loosened the whole framwork, blunted all the sharp edges, of my belief. . .the whole thing became a matter of speculation: i was soon altering 'i believe' to 'one does feel'
'i believe in no religion. there is absolutely no proof for any of them, and from a philosophical standpoint Christianity is not even the best. all religions, that is, all mythologies to give them their proper name, are merely man's own invention'
he described god as 'a phantom called the good.'
'all that are in hell, choose it. without that self-choice there could be no hell. no soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. those who seek find. to those who knock it is opened.'
by 1963, lewis had won the respect of the entire christian family - whether catholics or protestants - by his adherence to the 'enormous common ground' of essential christian beliefs, and by his refusal to involve himself in the sectarian squabbles which characterize so much of christian writing.
'i believe in no religion. there is absolutely no proof for any of them, and from a philosophical standpoint Christianity is not even the best. all religions, that is, all mythologies to give them their proper name, are merely man's own invention'
he described god as 'a phantom called the good.'
'all that are in hell, choose it. without that self-choice there could be no hell. no soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. those who seek find. to those who knock it is opened.'
by 1963, lewis had won the respect of the entire christian family - whether catholics or protestants - by his adherence to the 'enormous common ground' of essential christian beliefs, and by his refusal to involve himself in the sectarian squabbles which characterize so much of christian writing.
----
[aslan] didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. it just said it.
either we give up trying to be good, or else we become very unhappy indeed. for, make no mistake: if you are really going to try to meet all the demands made on the natural self, it will not have enough left over to live on. the more you obey your conscience, the more your conscience will demand of you. and your natural self, which is thus being starved and hampered and worried at every turn, will get angrier and angrier. in the end, you will either give up trying to be good, or else become one of those people who, as they say, ' live for others' but always in a discontented, grumbling way
to the materialist things like nations, classes, civilizations must be more important than individuals, because the individuals live only seventy odd years each and teh group may last for centuries. but to the christian, individuals are more important, for they live eternally; and races, civilizations and the like, are in comparison the creatures of a day.
we all know there have been good men who were not christians; men like socrates and confucius who had never even heard of it
mere morality is not the end of life.
we are to be re-made. all the rabbit in us is to disappear - the worried, conscientious, ethical rabbit as well as the cowardly and sensual rabbit. we shall bleed and squeal as the handfuls of fur come out; and then, surprisingly, we shall find underneath it all a thing we have neer yet imagined: a real man, an ageless god, a son of god, strong, radiant, wise, beautiful, and drenched in joy.
but i wonder whether people who ask god to interfere openly and directly in our world quite realize what it will be like when he does. when that happens, it is the end of the world. when the author walks on to the stage the play is over. god is going to invade, all right: but what is the god of saying you areon his side then, when you see the whole natural universe melting away like a dream and something else - something it never entered your head to conceive - comes crashing in; something so beautiful to some of us and so terrible to others that none of us will have any choice left?
god could, had he pleased, have been incarnate in a man of iron nerves, the stoic sort who lets no sign escape him. of his great humility he chose to be incarnate in a man of delicate sensibilities, who wept at the grave of lazarus and sweated blood in gethsemane. otherwise we should have missed the gret lesson that it is by his will alone that a man is good or bad, and that feelings are not, in themselves, of any importance. we should also have missed the all-important help of knowing that he has faced all that the weakest of us face, has shared not only the strength of our nature but every weakness of it except sin. if he had been incarnate in a man of immense natural courage, that would have been for many of us almost the same as his not being incarnate at all.
you have free will, and if you choose, you can push me away. but if you do not push me away, understand that i am going to see this job through.
we are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. we are far too easily pleased.
by this method thousands of humans have been brought to think that humility means pretty women trying to believe they are ugly and clever men trying to believe they are fools.
the enemy wants him, in the end, to be so free from any bias in his own favor that he can rejoice in his own talents as frankly and gratefully as in his neighbor's talents - or in a sunrise, an elephant, or a waterfall. . .
it is frustrating to have discovered a new author and not be able to tell anyone how good he is; to come suddenly, at the turn of the road, upon some mountain valley of unexpected grandeur and then to have to keep silent because the people with you care for it no more than for a tin can in the ditch; to hear a good joke and find no one to share it with (the perfect hearer died a year ago). this is so even when our expressions are inadequate, as of course they usually are.
there are two points i wanted to make. first, that human beings, all over the earth, have this curious idea that they ought to behave in a certain way, and cannot really get rid of it. secondly, that they do not in fact behave in that way. they know the law of nature: they break it. these two facts are the foundation of all clear thinking about ourselves and the universe we live in.
a young man meets a girl. . .her voice reminds him of something he has been trying to remember all his life.
we must, on pain of idiocy, deny from the very outset the idea that looking at is, by its own nature, intrinsically truer and beter than looking along. one must look both along and at everything.
(note: i love that he writes things that are titled such as 'meditation in a toolshed')
and in prayer this real i struggle to speak, for once from his real being, and to address, for once not th eother actors, but - what shall i call him? the author, for he invented us all? the producer, for he controls all? or the audience, for he watches, and will judge the performance?
you also have the fatal flaw in your character. all the hopes and plans of others have again and again shipwrecked on your character just as your hopes and plans have shipwrecked on theirs.
you also have a fatal flaw in your character. all the hopes and plans of others have again and again shipwrecked on our character just as your hopes and plans have shipwrecked on theirs.
abstain from all thinking about other people's faults, unless your duties as a teacher or parents make it necessary to think about them. . . and think of one's own faults instead.
there is something about the mere words, you known, provided you avoid two dangers, either of sensational exaggeration- trying to work things up and make melodramatic sins out of small matters - or of the opposite danger of slurring things over. it is essential to use the plain, simple, old-fashioned words that you would use about anyone else.
in solitude, and also in confession, i have found (to my regret) that the degrees of shame and disgust which i actually feel at my own sins do not at all correspond to what my reason tells me about their comparative gravity. just as the degree to which, in daily life, i feel the emotion of fear has very little to do with the rational judgment of the danger. i'd sooner have really nasty seas when i'm in an open boat than look down in perfect (actual) safety from the edge of a cliff. similarly, i have confessed ghastly uncharities with less reluctance than small unmentionables - or those sins which happen to be ungentlemanly as well as un-christian. our emotional reactions to our own behavior are of limited ethical significance.
but why now? because god is forching im on, or up, to a higher level : putting him into situations where he will hae to be very much braver, or more patient, or more loving, than he ever dreamed of being before. it seems to us all unneccessary: b ut that is because we have not yet had the slightest notion of the tremendous thing he means to make of us.
the explanation is that he is building quite a different house from the one you thought of. . . you thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but he is building a palace. he intends to come and live in it himself.
we are always harking back to some occasion which seemed to us to reach perfection, setting that up as a norm, and depreciating all other occasions by comparison. god shows us a new facet of the glory, and we refuse to look at it because we're still looking for the old one.
and the joke, or tragedy, of it all is that these golden moments in the past, which are so tormenting if we erec them into a norm, are entirely nourishing, wholesome and enchanting if we are content to accept them for what they are, for memories.
pain insists on being attened to. god whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world. . .
and therefore he troubles them, warning them in advance of an insufficiency that one day they will have to discover.
i think earth, if chosen instead of heaven, will turn out to have been, all along, only a region of hell: and earth, if put second to heaven, to have been from the beginning a part of heaven itself.
our whole education tends to fix our minds on this world
god knows our situation; he will not judge us as if we had no difficulties to overcome. what matters is the sincerity and perseverance of our will to overcome them.
whenever we do good to another self, just because it is a self, made (like us) by god, and desiring its own happiiness as we desire ours, we shall have learned to love it a little more or, at least, to dislike it less.
'error of stoicism': thining we can always do what we can do sometimes. . . for me words are. . . secondary. they are only an anchor. or, shall i say, they are the movements of a conductor's baton: not the music.
good fortune, health, popularity and all the things one wants to have. all thes ethings tend- just as money tends - to make you feel independent of god, because if you have them you are happy already and contented in this life. you don't want to turn away to anything more, and so you try to rest in a shadowy happiness as if it could last for ever.
the people who try to hold an optimistic view of this world would become pessimists: the people who hold a pretty stern view of it become optimistic.
i sometimes pray not for self-knowledge in general but for just so much self-knowledge at the moment as i can bear and use at the moment; the little daily dose.
as gin is not only a drink in istelf but also a base for many mixed drinks, so affection, besides being a love istelf, can enter into the other loves and color them all through and become the medium in which from day to day they operate.
it is when two such persons discover one another,when, whether with immense difficulties and semi-articulate fumblings or with what would seem to us amazing and elliptical speed, they share their vision - it is then that friendship is born. and instantly they stand together in an immense solitude.
emerson said, do you love me? means do you see the same truth? or at least, do you care about the same truth?. the man who agrees with us that some question, little regarded by others, is of great importance, can be our friend. he need not agree with us about the answer.
the gnat-like cloud of petty anxieties and decisions about the conduct of the next hour have interfered with my prayers more often than any passion or appetite whatever.
it is a useful, sturdy, lazy, obstinate, patient, lovable, and infuriating beast; deserving now the stick and now a carrot; both pathetically and absurdly beautiful. so the body.
'if any man come to me and hate not his father and mother and wife. . .and his won life also, he cannot be my disciple' (luke 14:26)
i believe that the most lawless and inordinate loves are less contrary to god's will than a self-invited and self-protective lovelessness.
a moderately bad man knows he is not very good: a thoroughly bad man thinks he is all right. . . good people know about both good and evil: bad people do not know about either.
no amount of falls will really undo us if we keep on picking ourselves up each time. we shall of course be very muddy and tattered children by the time we reach home. but the bathrooms are all ready, the towels put out, and the clean clothes in the airing cupboard. the only fatal thing is to lose one's temper and give it up. it is when we notice the dirt that god is most present in us : it is the very sign of his presence.
women sometimes have the problem of trying to judge by artificial light how a dress will look by daylight. that is very like the problem of all of us: to dress our souls not for the electric lights of the present world but for the daylight of the next. the good dress is the one that will face that light. for that light will last longer.
even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring tuppence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.
look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. but look for christ and you will find him, and with him everything else thrown in.
our natural experiences (sensory, emotional, imaginative) are only like the drawing, like penciled lines on flat paper. . .in reality it lacks lines because it is incomparably more visible.
either we give up trying to be good, or else we become very unhappy indeed. for, make no mistake: if you are really going to try to meet all the demands made on the natural self, it will not have enough left over to live on. the more you obey your conscience, the more your conscience will demand of you. and your natural self, which is thus being starved and hampered and worried at every turn, will get angrier and angrier. in the end, you will either give up trying to be good, or else become one of those people who, as they say, ' live for others' but always in a discontented, grumbling way
to the materialist things like nations, classes, civilizations must be more important than individuals, because the individuals live only seventy odd years each and teh group may last for centuries. but to the christian, individuals are more important, for they live eternally; and races, civilizations and the like, are in comparison the creatures of a day.
we all know there have been good men who were not christians; men like socrates and confucius who had never even heard of it
mere morality is not the end of life.
we are to be re-made. all the rabbit in us is to disappear - the worried, conscientious, ethical rabbit as well as the cowardly and sensual rabbit. we shall bleed and squeal as the handfuls of fur come out; and then, surprisingly, we shall find underneath it all a thing we have neer yet imagined: a real man, an ageless god, a son of god, strong, radiant, wise, beautiful, and drenched in joy.
but i wonder whether people who ask god to interfere openly and directly in our world quite realize what it will be like when he does. when that happens, it is the end of the world. when the author walks on to the stage the play is over. god is going to invade, all right: but what is the god of saying you areon his side then, when you see the whole natural universe melting away like a dream and something else - something it never entered your head to conceive - comes crashing in; something so beautiful to some of us and so terrible to others that none of us will have any choice left?
god could, had he pleased, have been incarnate in a man of iron nerves, the stoic sort who lets no sign escape him. of his great humility he chose to be incarnate in a man of delicate sensibilities, who wept at the grave of lazarus and sweated blood in gethsemane. otherwise we should have missed the gret lesson that it is by his will alone that a man is good or bad, and that feelings are not, in themselves, of any importance. we should also have missed the all-important help of knowing that he has faced all that the weakest of us face, has shared not only the strength of our nature but every weakness of it except sin. if he had been incarnate in a man of immense natural courage, that would have been for many of us almost the same as his not being incarnate at all.
you have free will, and if you choose, you can push me away. but if you do not push me away, understand that i am going to see this job through.
we are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. we are far too easily pleased.
by this method thousands of humans have been brought to think that humility means pretty women trying to believe they are ugly and clever men trying to believe they are fools.
the enemy wants him, in the end, to be so free from any bias in his own favor that he can rejoice in his own talents as frankly and gratefully as in his neighbor's talents - or in a sunrise, an elephant, or a waterfall. . .
it is frustrating to have discovered a new author and not be able to tell anyone how good he is; to come suddenly, at the turn of the road, upon some mountain valley of unexpected grandeur and then to have to keep silent because the people with you care for it no more than for a tin can in the ditch; to hear a good joke and find no one to share it with (the perfect hearer died a year ago). this is so even when our expressions are inadequate, as of course they usually are.
there are two points i wanted to make. first, that human beings, all over the earth, have this curious idea that they ought to behave in a certain way, and cannot really get rid of it. secondly, that they do not in fact behave in that way. they know the law of nature: they break it. these two facts are the foundation of all clear thinking about ourselves and the universe we live in.
a young man meets a girl. . .her voice reminds him of something he has been trying to remember all his life.
we must, on pain of idiocy, deny from the very outset the idea that looking at is, by its own nature, intrinsically truer and beter than looking along. one must look both along and at everything.
(note: i love that he writes things that are titled such as 'meditation in a toolshed')
and in prayer this real i struggle to speak, for once from his real being, and to address, for once not th eother actors, but - what shall i call him? the author, for he invented us all? the producer, for he controls all? or the audience, for he watches, and will judge the performance?
you also have the fatal flaw in your character. all the hopes and plans of others have again and again shipwrecked on your character just as your hopes and plans have shipwrecked on theirs.
you also have a fatal flaw in your character. all the hopes and plans of others have again and again shipwrecked on our character just as your hopes and plans have shipwrecked on theirs.
abstain from all thinking about other people's faults, unless your duties as a teacher or parents make it necessary to think about them. . . and think of one's own faults instead.
there is something about the mere words, you known, provided you avoid two dangers, either of sensational exaggeration- trying to work things up and make melodramatic sins out of small matters - or of the opposite danger of slurring things over. it is essential to use the plain, simple, old-fashioned words that you would use about anyone else.
in solitude, and also in confession, i have found (to my regret) that the degrees of shame and disgust which i actually feel at my own sins do not at all correspond to what my reason tells me about their comparative gravity. just as the degree to which, in daily life, i feel the emotion of fear has very little to do with the rational judgment of the danger. i'd sooner have really nasty seas when i'm in an open boat than look down in perfect (actual) safety from the edge of a cliff. similarly, i have confessed ghastly uncharities with less reluctance than small unmentionables - or those sins which happen to be ungentlemanly as well as un-christian. our emotional reactions to our own behavior are of limited ethical significance.
but why now? because god is forching im on, or up, to a higher level : putting him into situations where he will hae to be very much braver, or more patient, or more loving, than he ever dreamed of being before. it seems to us all unneccessary: b ut that is because we have not yet had the slightest notion of the tremendous thing he means to make of us.
the explanation is that he is building quite a different house from the one you thought of. . . you thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but he is building a palace. he intends to come and live in it himself.
we are always harking back to some occasion which seemed to us to reach perfection, setting that up as a norm, and depreciating all other occasions by comparison. god shows us a new facet of the glory, and we refuse to look at it because we're still looking for the old one.
and the joke, or tragedy, of it all is that these golden moments in the past, which are so tormenting if we erec them into a norm, are entirely nourishing, wholesome and enchanting if we are content to accept them for what they are, for memories.
pain insists on being attened to. god whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world. . .
and therefore he troubles them, warning them in advance of an insufficiency that one day they will have to discover.
i think earth, if chosen instead of heaven, will turn out to have been, all along, only a region of hell: and earth, if put second to heaven, to have been from the beginning a part of heaven itself.
our whole education tends to fix our minds on this world
god knows our situation; he will not judge us as if we had no difficulties to overcome. what matters is the sincerity and perseverance of our will to overcome them.
whenever we do good to another self, just because it is a self, made (like us) by god, and desiring its own happiiness as we desire ours, we shall have learned to love it a little more or, at least, to dislike it less.
'error of stoicism': thining we can always do what we can do sometimes. . . for me words are. . . secondary. they are only an anchor. or, shall i say, they are the movements of a conductor's baton: not the music.
good fortune, health, popularity and all the things one wants to have. all thes ethings tend- just as money tends - to make you feel independent of god, because if you have them you are happy already and contented in this life. you don't want to turn away to anything more, and so you try to rest in a shadowy happiness as if it could last for ever.
the people who try to hold an optimistic view of this world would become pessimists: the people who hold a pretty stern view of it become optimistic.
i sometimes pray not for self-knowledge in general but for just so much self-knowledge at the moment as i can bear and use at the moment; the little daily dose.
as gin is not only a drink in istelf but also a base for many mixed drinks, so affection, besides being a love istelf, can enter into the other loves and color them all through and become the medium in which from day to day they operate.
it is when two such persons discover one another,when, whether with immense difficulties and semi-articulate fumblings or with what would seem to us amazing and elliptical speed, they share their vision - it is then that friendship is born. and instantly they stand together in an immense solitude.
emerson said, do you love me? means do you see the same truth? or at least, do you care about the same truth?. the man who agrees with us that some question, little regarded by others, is of great importance, can be our friend. he need not agree with us about the answer.
the gnat-like cloud of petty anxieties and decisions about the conduct of the next hour have interfered with my prayers more often than any passion or appetite whatever.
it is a useful, sturdy, lazy, obstinate, patient, lovable, and infuriating beast; deserving now the stick and now a carrot; both pathetically and absurdly beautiful. so the body.
'if any man come to me and hate not his father and mother and wife. . .and his won life also, he cannot be my disciple' (luke 14:26)
i believe that the most lawless and inordinate loves are less contrary to god's will than a self-invited and self-protective lovelessness.
a moderately bad man knows he is not very good: a thoroughly bad man thinks he is all right. . . good people know about both good and evil: bad people do not know about either.
no amount of falls will really undo us if we keep on picking ourselves up each time. we shall of course be very muddy and tattered children by the time we reach home. but the bathrooms are all ready, the towels put out, and the clean clothes in the airing cupboard. the only fatal thing is to lose one's temper and give it up. it is when we notice the dirt that god is most present in us : it is the very sign of his presence.
women sometimes have the problem of trying to judge by artificial light how a dress will look by daylight. that is very like the problem of all of us: to dress our souls not for the electric lights of the present world but for the daylight of the next. the good dress is the one that will face that light. for that light will last longer.
even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring tuppence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.
look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. but look for christ and you will find him, and with him everything else thrown in.
our natural experiences (sensory, emotional, imaginative) are only like the drawing, like penciled lines on flat paper. . .in reality it lacks lines because it is incomparably more visible.
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