Friday, July 30, 2010
I listened as the words repeated in a haunting echo.
“Lay your body down. Lay your body down.”
Just as the chorus kicked in with a crescendo of volume, the screen saver jumped on.
And there they were. Little, rounded monuments.
The first photo to show up was a landscape shot of an English graveyard in Belgium.
The white gravestones were only offset by bright red roses.
Maybe my computer was trying to tell me something.
“Lay your body down. Lay your body down.”
Thursday, July 22, 2010
I was reading 2 Samuel today, in an attempt to actually be in the Word (huh... what a novel idea).
And I was struck. We think about how beautiful and striking literature is, and how well humans can write. But honestly, everyone is inspired by something.
Even pure irony can be inspired.
The son of David, no, not that Son of David, was named Absalom.
Absalom (or Avshalom) is Hebrew for "my father is Peace".
Absalom became enraged with his father and tried to overthrow the king of Israel in a violent coup.
How completely inspiring.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Sometimes you think you've found beauty.
'I could stare at this piece forever.' 'I will never get sick of that band.' 'That will always be my favorite play.'
But aesthetics, like the tide, is an ever-changing constant.
And sometimes, when the moon gives the ocean just the perfect extra, little gravitational shove, the ocean's essence becomes that much more unbelievable, that much more overwhelming, that much more beautiful.
So, just when you think you've found that beauty, something happens to redefine and reshape your definition of beauty. And like the moon to the ocean, it can be the most outlandish and opposite element added to that beauty that makes your heart smile.
But then you think to yourself 'Of course a serious gravitational pull would enhance the velocity and force of the ocean's movements!' and what you are really thinking is 'Of course adding the eloquence and valor of the French language would enhance the poetry and gravitas of British music!'
Sometimes you really have found beauty:
Mumford & Sons - The Banjolin Song / Awake my soul - A Take Away Show #105 from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.
All musical and genius, (c) La Blogotheque and Mumford & Sons.
All rambling musings, (c) Moi.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
How do you kill a man?
No, how do you kill a near perfect man. A stand-up individual, whom everyone enjoys not because he is good at being social, but because he embodies good-ness. He's a shining beacon, a city on a hill. The lighthouse. So, respecting the forces of poetry and justice, how does this man need to die.
It has to be sudden. Unexpected. Goodness can't suffer. If goodness were to suffer, someone, somewhere, with just enough virtue in their sin-ridden heart would try to relieve that suffering and take his place. Someone would stop it. So it has to be quick and unforeseen.
Should it be a murder? Do you really allow one individual, one person to single handedly wipe righteousness from Earth? Despite the best attempts of the most evil men, no one person can carry that load. So a typical, not-so-uniquely-unrighteous could never kill virtue.
Besides, can mankind ultimately be responsible for destroying Good?
So then it has to be natural, something out of man's hands. Something, beyond human control. Beyond... human... natural. ? If it is nature that controls the destiny of goodness, who is controlling the natural? Ah. The supernatural.
No. God would not kill virtue.
An accident, then. Fortune can disrupt and de-rail any measure of integrity! Sometimes the breaks just don't go your way. But do you really want to cop-out? No one to blame but Fortune, no-one but bad luck?
Isn't that just saying that Fate had it in for Virtue? Isn't that the same as saying nature...or God... would destroy goodness.
No. It has to be human. We plucked the fruit. We're all Sons of Cain.
We're all Sons of Cain! For all have fallen short...We're all responsible.
We killed Virtue.
His eyes throbbed from within their thin, dark lids. Lightening shot across from temple to nose. It had been one hell of a day.
Two new clients, getting chewed out by the overzealous and pompous boss, working on that obnoxious middle-aged man’s knee, and the ever-present-and-growing-load of paperwork. The interior of his car had never felt like such a haven.
He had basically marched out of work, forgetting - or maybe not forgetting - to say goodbye to his co-workers. The walk through the lobby and into the parking garage had become so typical he didn’t even remember taking the steps. All he wanted was that few-degrees-warmer-than-outside, two-shades-darker-inside, slightly-more-humid four-seat refuge.
He slumped down into the front seat, laid his head back on the headrest, closed his eyes and the front door at the same time, and stopped. That’s when he grabbed his eyelids and the electricity jumped from cranium to eyeball.
Somehow, he was completely uncomfortable and completely at peace at the same time.
But naturally, it was not meant to last more than a fleeting moment. His passenger seat began to rumble melodically as his cell phone rang its too-familiar New Message vibration. ‘Not now. Just don’t pick it up. Just let it be until you’re miles from here, back in your apartment, with your stomach full of food and beer, and midway through the soccer game’. But he couldn’t ignore it. Some innate force, something was simply taking over control of his right arm and causing him to reach across the center consol and underneath his coat. ‘Nope. Just drop it. Just let the phone go, and trade it for the car keys. Go ahead.’
His arm emerged from under the coat, and within his palm came that damn cell phone. ‘Fine’, his face showed his sour emotions to the empty car and rather vacant garage. He flipped the phone over in his hand and opened it up.
Message from Daniel
Call me soon as you can.
‘Daniel? I wonder what Danny wants.’ He pulled his left arm down from the window basin and shifted his weight forward. Hitting the Call Back button, he cleared his throat. The electronic ring from his phone echoed in his ear.
“Ah Mattie! Thanks for calling me back so fast, eh?”
“Sure thing, Danny. What’s going on? I haven’t heard from you in ages, cousin.” Matt knew something was just a little bit wrong.
“Well, it’s a bit strange, mate. Kind of a story. I walked into the coffeeshop about a half hour ago and this woman bumped into me. After I got my drink, I headed to leave when I saw this purse on one of the couches. “
“The shop huh? That teenager still ceaselessly almost-throwing-herself-at-you?”
“Uh.. What?” Daniel’s nervously planned storytelling stalled as Matt forced him to think “Yeah, Mattie, she’s still there”.
Matt noticed the harsh and complete stop in Daniel’s aura. Something had actually happened.