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For those who might be interested, here is my list of the best movies, books, restaurants, and whatever else has struck my fancy in the past year. http://www.stmatthewssterling.org/Home.aspx . Please see the left hand column under "What's New".
Chrismtas morning, right before I left for services (notice my new Pink Floyd sweat shirt!)
Wednesday took my youngest daughter the airport. She flew to Vienna, Austria, via Switzerland (another family bought her a ticket as a surprise Christmas present for their child, with whom my daughter is a friend.) Hard to let her go; even though she’s only been gone a little over a day, I sure do miss her.
From there went straight to see Les Miserables at National Theater in DC. Price of tickets was a bit dear (we had great seats), but having now experienced it I believe it was worth every penny. The power of good theater is unique and compelling.
After that my oldest daughter and I went straight to church for the rest of the night to help with the reading of the entire Bible out loud. Though pews are hard and uncomfortable, I will admit I managed to fall asleep. And so my daughter and a friend ended up doing most of the reading (with several church members also coming by to read as well.)
The next day it was meetings, a service at the conclusion of the Bible reading, late lunch with friends, and then over to my brother’s to visit with him, his family, and my parents.
When I finally was able to get out of the clothes I’d been in for over 24 hours, take a shower, and crawl into a genuine bed, it was a real treat, believe me!
This morning I got up early, while it was still dark, before anyone else (other than the cats) were even stirring. I made a cup of nice hot Chai tea and sat down with my journal, the first quiet moments I’ve had in… I can’t even remember when.
That, I think, was my “Christmas”…the first moments I haven’t had to be “on” at least in some sense in what seems like forever…where I could sit back and enjoy the emptiness…the “soul space” I personally need to commune deeply with the God I know and love.
OK, OK, I admit it. I've been playing with the kid's tablet again. I'm not sure that I like it better than "real" pen and ink (or colored pencils) yet, but maybe that is just because I'm still not quite used to it.
Anyway, you'd have to be a comic book buff to know who Neal Adams is. IMHO, he is arguably the best graphic artist there is.
I still remembering seeing his drawings as a kid and marvelling at the detail. So this is to Neal Adams, and the hours of delight I found in reading his comics (which did, in fact, include Batman).
The whole Bible, that is. I realize this link won't be for everyone, but I thought some readers might be interested.
This week we are reading through the whole Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, out loud. And we are streaming that reading through live audio if you'd like to listen. It can be found at http://stmatthewssterling.com/Home.aspx in the lower right hand quadrant.
Our website also provides updates whenever we start a new book.
This new tablet is kind fun!
In about an hour I'll be heading up to church. We have services at 4, 7, 9, and 11 (and yes, we will have a service on Christmas morning as well.) It makes for a long day today, but each service is a little bit different and it's all a lot of fun.
Anyway, here is the poem. The image is a little, uh, non-traditional. But I think that just makes it all the more effective.
The Bat by Jane Kenyon
I was reading about rationalism
the kind of thing we do up north
in early winter, where the sun
leaves work for the day at 4:15
Maybe the world is intelligible
to the rational mind;
and maybe we light the lamps at dusk
for nothing…
Then I heard wings overhead.
The cats and I chased the bat in circles—living room, kitchen pantry, kitchen, living room… At every turn it evaded us
like the identity of the third person in the Trinity: the one who spoke through the prophets, the one who astounded Mary by suddenly coming near.
Four Tao philosophers as cedar waxwings
chat on a February berrybush
in sun, and I am one.
Such merriment and sobriety--
the small wild fruit on the tall stalk--
was this always my true style?
Above an elegance of snow, beneath
a silk-blue sky a brotherhood of four
birds. Can you mistake us?
To sun, to feast, to converse and all together--for this I have abandoned all my other lives.
--by Robert Francis
I wonder if they sleep better here
so close to the elemental pentameter
of the sea which comes in incessantly?
Just a few square acres of sand
studded mainly with thick posts
as if the coffins beneath were boats
tied fast to prevent further drift.
I half stumble around one pre-dawn,
just a dog following the footprints
of another dog with me, and stop
before one particular grave: a cross
inlaid with large splinters of mirror.
Whoever lies here is distinguished
Certainly, but I wonder—why mirrors?
For signaling? Who? No, they’re embedded
in the stone and so can’t be flicked
to reflect the sun or moonlight.
Is the sleeper here unusually vain
and the glass set of the times of dark
ascensions—to smooth the death gown,
to apply a little lipstick to the white
worms of the lips? No again. I think
they’re for me and the ones who come
like me at this hour, in this half-light.
The ones who come half-drunk, half-wild
and wholly in fear—so we may gaze
into the ghosts of our own faces
and be touched by this chill of all
chills,--and then go home, alive,
to sleep the sleep of the awake.
--Thomas Lux
Not exactly holiday fare—or is it…? (this is one of those poems that I feel more than understand, though the richness of the metaphors--disturbing as they are--also gives me plenty to think about it)
I just ate a pint of Hagen Dazs Egg Nog Ice Cream. OK, I left a couple bites for my oldest daughter to try, which required great restraint. That should count for something.
Now I’m freezing. I was cold to begin with, so eating all that ice cream didn’t help. Brrrr.
Before that I got my haircut (my stylist, Amanda drives a modified Mustang GT, so mostly we talk cars) and a manicure. It’s part of my “ritual preparations” for high holidays—a word that you probably know is derived from the older “holy day”.
Anyway, I think manicures are one of the great pleasures of life, especially soaking cold hands in warm paraffin. They say pedicures are even better, so maybe one day I’ll try one. Right now, though, I think it would feel kind of funny to have some one working on my feet.
A new woman, Zoe, did my nails today. Apparently the last manicurist is now working construction. Interesting change, I thought. Anyway, Zoe asked whether I wanted my nails buffed or polished.
I told I have no clue how I want my nails, so she went ahead and polished them. For future reference, anybody have any opinions on this?
Well, enough of that. Here is the poem for the day. Might this be true of blogs as well?
The First Book by Rita Dove
Open it.
Go ahead. It won’t bite.
Well…maybe a little.
More a nip, like. A tingle.
It’s pleasurable, really.
You see, it keeps on opening.
You may fall in.
Sure, it’s hard to get started;
remember learning to use
knife and fork? Dig in:
you’ll never reach bottom.
It’s not like it’s the end of the world—
just the world as you think
you know it.
Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.
I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the rivers says, that is what I say.
--William Stafford
