Friday, October 18, 2013
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Thursday 10/17/13
A Blessing
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.
James Wright
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.
James Wright
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Monday, October 14, 2013
Friday, October 11, 2013
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Monday, October 7, 2013
Friday, October 4, 2013
Friday 10/4/13
"Wit doesn't argue with sophists, simpletons, or demagogues. It waves them on their downward path with a quip. They don't even know they've been had. Wit withers with a smile; it never wrangles; it prefers fine-pointed instruments to bludgeons, and uses them to more effect. It is well-read and borrows its best lines from the best sources. Wit lands lightly and leaves quickly, never explains a punch line or takes too long to deliver one. Wit knows its place in the service of what matters; its best performances support thoughtful argument, sober reflection, and poetic vision without upstaging them. Wit awakens the willing and ready and leaves sluggards to their sleep. It doesn't proselytize or preach, but it does speak truth to power, expose the hypocrite, and incite its victims to the distressing self-awareness they may have sought to avoid.
An expression I still hear now and then from one of my parents' generation - "It scared me out of my wits!" - implies something else about with worth thinking about. It cannot co-exist or cooperate with fear. When we have our wits about us, we are capable of courage. When fear takes over, wit is tragically defeated. Wit sees a way and takes it, doesn't waste a moment in self-pity, sins boldly, and, as Luther also put it, believes more boldly still. Wit takes calculated risks, consenting to the costs. Perhaps we should hear the ancient admonition "Therefore, choose life" as a call to keep our wits about is. Wit serves life as fear serves death. It seems, in fact, not to stretch a point too far to suggest that wit is related not only to the moral faculty (as conscience), but to faith itself. Wit steps out on thin ice when there is something of value to be won. Wit relies on intuition, accepts mystery, expects and accepts grace, and laughs."
-Marilyn Chandler McEntyre, "Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies"
"As you enter the home, give it your greeting. If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it; if it is not, let your peace return to you. If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake the dust off your feet when you leave that home or town."
-Jesus, Matthew 10:12-14
An expression I still hear now and then from one of my parents' generation - "It scared me out of my wits!" - implies something else about with worth thinking about. It cannot co-exist or cooperate with fear. When we have our wits about us, we are capable of courage. When fear takes over, wit is tragically defeated. Wit sees a way and takes it, doesn't waste a moment in self-pity, sins boldly, and, as Luther also put it, believes more boldly still. Wit takes calculated risks, consenting to the costs. Perhaps we should hear the ancient admonition "Therefore, choose life" as a call to keep our wits about is. Wit serves life as fear serves death. It seems, in fact, not to stretch a point too far to suggest that wit is related not only to the moral faculty (as conscience), but to faith itself. Wit steps out on thin ice when there is something of value to be won. Wit relies on intuition, accepts mystery, expects and accepts grace, and laughs."
-Marilyn Chandler McEntyre, "Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies"
"As you enter the home, give it your greeting. If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it; if it is not, let your peace return to you. If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake the dust off your feet when you leave that home or town."
-Jesus, Matthew 10:12-14
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
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