Thursday, August 26, 2010
We have familiar experience of the order, the constancy, the perpetual renovation of the material world which surrounds us. Frail and transitory as is every part of it, restless and migratory as are its elements, still it abides. It is bound together by a law of permanence, and though it is ever dying, it is ever coming to life again. Dissolution does but give birth to fresh modes of organization, and one death is the parent of a thousand lives.
Each hour, as it comes, is but a testimony how fleeting, yet how secure; how certain, is the great whole. It is like an image on the waters, which is ever the same, though the waters ever flow. The sun sinks to rise again; the day is swallowed up in the gloom of night, to be born out of it, as fresh as if it had never been quenched.
Spring passes into summer, and through summer and autumn into winter, only the more surely, by its own ultimate return, to triumph over that grave towards which it resolutely hastened from its first hour.
We mourn the blossoms of May because they are to wither; but we know that May is one day to have its revenge upon November, by the revolution of that solemn circle which never stops--- which teaches us in our height of hope, ever to be sober, and in our depth of desolation, never to despair. - John Henry Cardinal Newman
I have always found this short piece very inspiring, though strangely enough, I first read of it in William Peter Blatty's "The Exorcist."
Sunday, August 01, 2010
Have no decent video of this song. Excellent vocal work by Dianne Reeves and instrument track by David Benoit is so smooth in rising in counterpoint to her voice. One of the staples of my chill-out music during the late '80s, it became more important after we started using it as retreat music.
One thing for certain, my buddy Des used it for a mix-tape of songs he gave to his then-girlfriend (awww, so sweet!). Well, what happened afterward... let's just say it was a learning experience for both of them.
This is dedicated to my little nephew Jeremiah Angelo, who is turning three years old on August 2. One can only truly be home when surrounded by the people whom one loves and loves one best. Only in the land of the loving am I home.
It is natural that as he grows, he will have to deal with the evils of this world, and shadow will one day be cast over his life.
May that day be far from coming. We can only guard against it, as his elders, and trust that our example and the Lord's grace will be enough to guide him on his way.
Ah, worries. What a song and a memory bring. Yes, distress is but natural, to one who is not nourished by the air and water of his native land. I will sleep, and tomorrow, all my hopes will be more than just a sweet dream.
May these words take wing and go straight to heaven, for this supplicant desires nothing more right now than divine inspiration.
"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul." - Psalm 143:8