Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.
It’s not warm when she’s away.
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
And she’s always gone too long anytime she goes away.

– Bill Withers

So Long, 2009!

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a song of love will speak directly to the blood
even poisoned by doubt will it course thick and hot
for we know that love can grow even in darkness
shelter itself in a broken dream, and be passed along
mouth to mouth iteration in the logic of a kiss
to understand that true love is as invincible as time
to remember the first breath of life in heaven

I have this running quandary about Christmas. I get upset about it, because I feel that we American Christians make too much of it, and too little. Too little of it, because we pile all sorts of other things onto it, including some that have only the feeblest connection with the Event it is supposed to commemorate. If God did become a man, in any real sense, it is the most important thing that ever happened. Surely we, who believe it, could well devote one day a year to uninterrupted contemplation of the fact, and let Saturnalia fall on the winter solstice, where it belongs.

On the other hand, we make so much of the actual birth, and forget the things that make it more than just the birth of a baby (though even that is, in Walt Whitman’s phrase, “miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels”) — more, even, than the birth of the greatest man who ever lived. We forget the promise to Eve of a descendant who will solve the problem of Evil; the promise to Abraham of one by whom all mankind will be blessed; the promise to Moses of a greater prophet than he, to arise from his people; and the promise to David of a Son who would be his Master. We forget about the eternal Purpose behind it all: it’s like telling a story and leaving out the point. Yes, it is true that God gave us His Son, and so maybe we ought also to give gifts — but what, and to whom? It is also true that God gave us Himself, and the only sensible response to that is to give ourselves to Him. There is nothing else that He wants from us, or, if there is something, He can take it. Only I, my ego, my heart, is truly mine to give or to withhold — and is therefore the appropriate gift to Him.

There is a dream that is Christmas. How it is that for one day, people all remember how it is, what it is to be human, and forget the other 364… this is not a mystery. The dream is of hope, and the look in a child’s eye early in that morning, when they seem so full of happy they are about to bust. The angels told it right, of course, not to be afraid, and to be of great joy: a Savior is born to us in this day, who will be the light for the whole world. And let no one tell you it is not about the presents, for I say that these do mean something, even in this day of commercial crassness. We give each of us a part of ourselves, the time it took to work for the money to purchase them, the going and getting of them. Yes, the thought that counts. For it is given us, this day, that present from God, to show His love for us. Remember that that is what He thinks of us.

In some moments, a saint’s discomfort. That I should not be pleased with a certain situation that I find myself in, and refuse on principle to enjoy it. Or perhaps not like a saint’s sensations at all, for one might not have let himself fall into such a predicament. Still, we must do what we can with what we have at any given moments…. The question of “What would Jesus do?” I find to be a curious thing, for the Lord would not have gotten himself into many if not most of the dilemmas where that question seems to pop up. But a saint’s quandary — this can be believed, as they are merely human, too — this might be useful to imagine. To slouch also towards Bethlehem, in the shadow of the rough beast, His hour come round at last.

Life is a delicious appetizer passing for a main course.

the fragrance of a memory drifts like a dream, slowly
i stare at the years as they rise and fall like civilizations
i go nowhere, from these eyes only have i ever gazed out

As soon as my heart stops breakin’
Anticipating
As soon as forever is through
I’ll be over you

– Toto

Max Ernst: Of This, Men Shall Know

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What doth it profit thee to enter into deep discussions concerning the Holy Trinity, if thou lack humility, and be thus displeasing to the Trinity? For verily it is not deep words that make a man holy and upright; it is a good life which maketh a man dear to God. I had rather feel contrition than be skillful in the definition thereof. If thou knewest the whole Bible, and the sayings of all the philosophers, what should this profit thee without the love and grace of God?

Don’t go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.
                – Mark Twain

Uncertainty is the refuge of hope.
                – Henri Frederic Amiel

Time is that quality of nature which keeps events from happening all at once. Lately it doesn’t seem to be working.
                – Anonymous

It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.
                – William Blake

Most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted.
                – Aldous Huxley

Just because something doesn’t do what you planned it to do doesn’t mean it’s useless.
                – Thomas A. Edison

Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.
                – Mark Twain

There has never been a time without injustice. Much of what seems to be the collapse of civilization all around us is that as never before, we can see it. What is unprecedented about this time is that so many of us can make such a difference in almost the farthest corners of the world. If we make the effort, of course. But even without effort, the information that comes at us is at the level of deluge, and it threatens to increase as we come up with more ways to have eyes and ears to the world. Of course, this coverage in itself changes something of the nature of the world, but what one must realize is that wrongs would still occur without it. We must open ourselves to what is possible, now that the genie is out of the bottle. For perhaps it is a blessing if we make it out to be; the future has always been ours to shape.

It’s never enough. As a rule of thumb, this is always true.

i remember how your eyes dance with light
there is a moon out tonight, the distant glow between us
for i can hear your laughter in the rain
where we dream is not important, i can feel you there
the shy colors of sunset understand you
like your whisper in my ear when you tell me things
i am here. no distance between us at all

[Short.]

War had become something only the rich could truly afford. (Was it ever not thus?) For as the mechanization of warfare marched on, humans moved back from the front lines, farther and farther. That is, for those who could buy these machines, which saw and heard and fired in surrogate formation, visible from far above by satellites, controlled in hard wireless lines between command centers and robotic battlefields. When it was human versus machine, the mechanically empowered against those whose only forces were flesh and blood, there could be nothing but a one-sided massacre, whichever side actually won the day. In machine against machine firefights, the main objective was to cause the most expensive damage. To advance, if one could, to actual human cost was generally a tactical impossibility.

[previously 1]
[previously 2]

I dream of love as time runs through my hand

– Sting

Fernand Khnopff: Portrait of a Woman

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