"Love follows knowledge."
"Beauty above all beauty!"
– St. Catherine of Siena

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Notable Quotes: The Witch's Cauldron Scene from Macbeth by William Shakespeare

I started reading Shakespeare’s Macbeth (it’s hardly my first time reading it) while I take another break from Dante’s Purgatorio.  Here’s a quick quote that’s perfect for Halloween, the witch’s cauldron scene. 

 
SCENE I. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches




Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Silver'd in the moon's eclipse,
Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingredients of our cauldron.

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.

Enter HECATE to the other three Witches
O well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i' the gains;
And now about the cauldron sing,
Live elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.

Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' & c
HECATE retires
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks!

Enter MACBETH


 I stopped the quote as Macbeth enters the scene.  Scary!  Now get ready to really be scared.  Here’s a video clip of the scene.
 
 

Hope you had a horror filled Halloween. ;)

Monday, October 28, 2013

Matthew Monday: Blood Test and Play Dough Pizza

We had to take Matthew for the first blood test since the first month we had him home.  That blood test was three years ago when Matthew was just over a year old, and the veins were so small that the pediatrician at the time decided the best place to draw his blood was from a vein (or is it an artery?) in the neck.  It was a horror to watch her stick a needle in his neck, and all the time I was holding Matthew down. 

This time we were at an actual blood lab, and, while they took it from the traditional middle of the arm, it was just as much a horror.  This all started when his annual pediatrician visit turned up he was on the anemic side with a simple pin prick blood test.  So she ordered us to give him a daily vitamin with iron and get a blood test to assess. 

My wife made sure I was available since she knew this would be difficult.  I decided to tell him we were going for a blood test while we were still in the house.  That’s when he started to cry.  He didn’t like the little pin prick test and he was already anticipating that.  He had no idea what a real blood test entailed.  My wife didn’t think it was wise to tell him up front, but what was I to do, surprise him when we got to the lab?  That’s like the mafia taking you for a ride.  So we comforted him as best we could, and then we even promised him a treat and a trip to the book store where he likes to play in the children’s department. 

It was tough.  He started screaming, even when they put the rubber strap around his arm.  “Ouwee” he cried, “ouwee.”  It was hard to find a vein on his little arms.  The guy who started decided to call an assistant, a young lady who had drawn from children more often.  And then Matthew really let it out when the butterfly needle was jammed in.  And then they had to move the tip around to find a better flow.  Matthew was positioned in my lap, his arm on the swing arm of the chair, and my arms holding him steady and his other hand from grasping.  The blood technicians did the best they could.  They were surprised that they had to take five or six (don’t remember the count) vials, and at some oint they decided not to fill them up completely.  God, I hope I don’t have to do that for a long time.

Later that evening Matthew was in a better mood and played with his beloved play dough.  He decided to make me a pizza, a flattened sheet of yellow clay with red pieces for the tomatoes and white chucks for the mozzarella cheese.  I thought this was cute as heck.  Here’s my pizza.

 


 

And then he made one for his mother and one for himself, for a total of three pizzas.

 


 
He was so proud of himself.  Here’s the little chef in front of his creations, the blood test long forgotten. 

 

 

So can the Food Channel use another chef?  LOL!

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Short Story Review: “The Fall of the House of Usher” by Edgar Allan Poe

I have often said that I am not a big fan of the work of Edgar Allan Poe.  I find his stories at times superficial, gratuitously melodramatic, intellectually inconsistent, and prose that is puffed up with presumptuous, twenty dollar words.  But Poe remains extremely popular and enjoys some critical acclaim among literary critics.  So don’t just go by me; the fault might be in my reading rather than in Poe’s work.
 
That is not to say I have not found some really fine Poe short stories.  “The Cask of Amontillado” is a perfect little jewel.  “The Mask of Red Death” is fascinating.  His mystery stories are good, especially when you consider he may have invented the form.  “William Wilson” is another fine story, though the ending seemed overly melodramatic.  But I have to say that the story I will review here, just in time for Halloween, though I have to admit I didn’t plan it this way, “The Fall of the House of Usher,” is a masterpiece.  Let’s explore it, though I think this will take up more than one post.

Poe starts the story off with a quote from a French poet named Pierre-Jean de Beranger, from a poem named, "Le Refus:”  I know nothing of this poem or poet, but here is the

Son cœur est un luth suspendu;
Sitôt qu'on le touche il résonne.

It translates to:
"His heart is a lute strung tight;
As soon as one touches it, it resounds."


It certainly speaks to the nature of the story’s central character, Roderick’s Usher.

I would like to look at the first paragraph in detail.  All quotes will be taken from the PoeStories’ posting of the story.  I will be citing by numbering the paragraphs (par. 1 equates to paragraph 1) from the top of the story.
 

First, that opening sentence is beauty of structure and rhythm.  It must be highlighted in isolation:

“During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country ; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.” 

That “d” alliteration in that first phrase is wonderful and so memorable.  And he smatters a couple of “d” alliterations further in the sentence with “dreary” and “drew” to create a rhythmic pattern.  And in parallel with the “d” alliteration is the “h” alliteration” “whole,” “hung,” “heavens,” horseback,” “House.”  Five “d” alliterative words form a sort of helix intertwining with five “h” alliterative words.  This is the first of many instances in the story that Poe gives us doubles in a reflective pattern as I’ll point out later.  Here it’s an aesthetic representation of a major motif that will be central to the story.  This isn’t just good, it’s absolutely brilliant. 


Let’s return to that first sentence.  Poe goes at great length to create the ambiance of the scene.  The day is “dull, dark and soundless,” and not just for part of the day, the whole day.  The clouds don’t just hang low in the sky, but in the “heavens.”  The evening doesn’t just get dark, the “shades” draw.  There is an incredible power vested in the atmosphere, and in contrast, the narrator speaks of his actions in the passive voice: he “had been passing alone” and then “found” himself “within view” of Usher’s house.  The contrast is striking, powerful nature, passive individual. 
 

Third, and still on that first sentence, notice the rhythmic movement of the sentence.  Through the repetition and pacing of the prepositional phrase pattern and the anticipation generated by holding the key noun phrase (“House of Usher”) to the end of the long sentence, Poe propels the sentence forward as a slow dreary trot.  Here are the phrases: “during the whole” “in the autumn,” “of the year,” “when the clouds,” “in the heavens,” “through a…tract,” “as the shades,” “of the evening,” “of the…House.”  It’s as if Poe is placing you, the reader, on that horse and in the narrator’s shoes feeling the oppression of the surroundings when suddenly, out of nowhere, the House of Usher comes upon you. 


Let’s look at the next four sentences:

I know not how it was - but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable ; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable, because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me - upon the mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain - upon the bleak walls - upon the vacant eye-like windows - upon a few rank sedges - and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees - with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium - the bitter lapse into everyday life - the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart - an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime.

These are the narrator’s first impressions he feels as he looks upon the house.  There’s more fine writing in there, especially the use of the “s” alliteration.  I’ll leave that for the reader to find and appreciate, but let me point out the motifs which will get repeated throughout the story.  His soul feels “insufferable gloom,” like someone who has reached a drug induced high but now comes crashing down.  This is exactly how Usher feels throughout the story, with the word “gloom” repeated often.  The narrator, who is unnamed throughout the story, becomes a double of Roderick Usher.  The trees are decayed, reflecting the decay of the house and of Usher’s family house.  The house is personified with “vacant eye-like windows.”  It too becomes Usher’s double.  Finally, the narrator uses the metaphor, “the hideous dropping off of the veil,” as the analogy for seeing nature’s true reality.  In essence, that is what happens to Usher at the climax of the story when he realizes his sister Madeline, though entombed, is still alive.  And allow me to stretch this a little more.  The dropping of the veil is a severing act, severing what obscures reality.  The motifs of doubles, of decay, and of fragmentation will be a central part of the story.
 

The first paragraph concludes in a reflective pondering by narrator:
 

What was it - I paused to think - what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher ? It was a mystery all insoluble ; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression ; and, acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed down - but with a shudder even more thrilling than before - upon the remodelled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows.

Two observations from that section.  First, the relationship between the environment and the individual’s psyche is a mystery.  One can poke at it and but at bottom it’s unfathomable; it’s “beyond our depth.”  Poe’s diction throughout the paragraph—“mystery,” “heavens,” “shades,” “soul,” “unredeemed”—seem to suggest a spiritual relationship. This is amplified later when the relationship between death and living comes at the heart of the story.  And even “the dropping of the veil” suggests the veil separating the Holy of the Holies in the Old Testament Temple.  Second, just as the narrator seems to think that a rearrangement of the environmental effects could “annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression,” he comes upon the reflecting image of the house, “remodeled and inverted,”—meaning it’s been rearranged for him—and yet he feels the very same shock.  Whatever causes this relationship between soul and nature is deep and not superficial.

So in this first paragraph we see the key elements that form the story.  But we still haven’t gotten to its theme, or its central character.  That will come in the next post.

Friday, October 25, 2013

Faith Filled Friday: Litany of the Saints

I'm going to post this Faith Filled Friday on All Saints Day, which is on November 1st, and next Friday to post on All Souls Day, which is on November 2nd.

I post Veronica Morrissey's musical rendition of the prayer, Litany of the Saints.  I see from Wikipedia that Lutherans, Anglicans, and some Orthodox also share this prayer.  That is interesting



That is such a beautiful rendition.  It comes off of Ms. Morrissey's CD, Songs of Prayer.  Every time Litany of the Saints comes up on my ipod, I stop what I'm doing and listen for all the saints.  That whole CD is special.  I really like her voice.  Now the song curtails this lengthy prayer.  If you want the entire prayer, here it is.

Litany of the Saints

Lord, have mercy on us. 
Christ, have mercy on us.
Lord, have mercy on us.
Christ, hear us.
Lord, have mercy on us.
Christ, have mercy on us.
Lord, have mercy on us.
Christ, graciously hear us.
God, the Father of heaven,
God the Son, Redeemer of the world,
God the Holy Spirit,
Holy Trinity, one God,
have mercy on us.
have mercy on us.
have mercy on us.
have mercy on us.
Holy Mary,
Holy Mother of God,
Holy Virgin of virgins,
St. Michael,
St. Gabriel,
St. Raphael,
All you Holy Angels and Archangels,
St. John the Baptist,
St. Joseph,
All you Holy Patriarchs and Prophets,
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
St. Peter,
St. Paul,
St. Andrew,
St. James,
St. John,
St. Thomas,
St. James,
St. Philip,
St. Bartholomew,
St. Matthew,
St. Simon,
St. Jude,
St. Matthias,
St. Barnabas,
St. Luke,
St. Mark,
All you holy Apostles and Evangelists,
All you holy Disciples of the Lord,
All you holy Innocents,
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
St. Stephen,
St. Lawrence,
St. Vincent,
Sts. Fabian and Sebastian,
Sts. John and Paul,
Sts. Cosmos and Damian,
All you holy Martyrs,
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
St. Sylvester,
St. Gregory,
St. Ambrose,
St. Augustine,
St. Jerome,
St. Martin,
St. Nicholas,
All you holy Bishops and Confessors,
All you holy Doctors,
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
St. Anthony,
St. Benedict,
St. Bernard,
St. Dominic,
St. Francis,
All you holy Priests and Levites,
All you holy Monks and Hermits,
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
St. Mary Magdalene,
St. Agatha,
St. Lucy,
St. Agnes,
St. Cecilia,
St. Anastasia,
St. Catherine,
St. Clare,
All you holy Virgins and Widows,
All you holy Saints of God,
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
pray for us.
Lord, be merciful,
From all evil,
From all sin,
From your wrath,
From a sudden and unprovided death,
From the snares of the devil,
From anger, hatred, and all ill-will,
From the spirit of uncleanness,
From lightning and tempest,
From the scourge of earthquake,
From plague, famine, and war,
From everlasting death,
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
By the mystery of your holy Incarnation,
By your Coming,
By your Birth,
By your Baptism and holy fasting,
By your Cross and Passion,
By your Death and Burial,
By your holy Resurrection,
By your wonderful Ascension,
By the coming of the Holy Spirit,
On the day of judgment,
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Lord, save your people.
Be merciful to us sinners, Lord, hear our prayer.
That you will spare us,
That you will pardon us,
That it may please you to bring us to true
penance,
Guide and protect your holy Church,
Preserve in holy religion the Pope, and all
those in holy Orders,
Humble the enemies of holy Church,
Give peace and unity to the whole Christian
people,
Bring back to the unity of the Church all
those who are straying, and bring all
unbelievers to the light of the Gospel,
Strengthen and preserve us in your holy
service,
Raise our minds to desire the things of
heaven,
Reward all our benefactors with eternal
blessings,
Deliver our souls from eternal damnation,
and the souls of our brethren, relatives,
and benefactors,
Give and preserve the fruits of the earth,
Grant eternal rest to all the faithful departed,
That it may please You to hear and heed
us, Jesus, Son of the Living God,
Lord, hear our prayer.
Lord, hear our prayer.
Lord, hear our prayer.

Lord, hear our prayer.
Lord, hear our prayer.
Lord, hear our prayer.
Lord, hear our prayer.

Lord, hear our prayer.

Lord, hear our prayer.

Lord, hear our prayer.

Lord, hear our prayer.

Lord, hear our prayer.


Lord, hear our prayer.
Lord, hear our prayer.
Lord, hear our prayer.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of
the world,
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of
the world,
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of
the world,
Spare us, O Lord! Graciously hear us, O Lord!
Have mercy on us.
Christ, hear us,Lord Jesus, hear our prayer.
Lord, have mercy on us.
Christ, have mercy on us.
Lord, have mercy on us.


 
Christ, graciously hear us
Lord Jesus, hear our prayer.
Lord, have mercy on us.
Christ, have mercy on us.
Lord, have mercy on us.


 

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Music Tuesday: "Big River" by Johnny Cash

Jan at Runs With Angels...Lives With Saints! has a series of posts on her reading of a funny Mark Twain novel, The Diaries of Adam and Eve: Translated by Mark Twain.  I haven't read that one, and it's tempting me to stick it into my upcoming lists.  But as it turns out, on my current list is a Mark Twain book, and Jan has made me antsy to start it up.  My upcoming read, once I finally complete Dante's Purgatorio, is Mark Twain's Life On the Mississippi

So to get ready for Life on the Mississippi, how about Johnny Cash's "Big River" for this week's Music Tuesday selection.  Isn't Johnny Cash about as cool a singer as can be.  Not only is he a fine singer, but he projects so much personality.  He's got the personality you just wish he was your next door neighbor.  The Mississippi River is the heart of America, and I would say Johnny is too.

I'll post a clip with a remix section that adds about half a minute from the original version.  I really like what they did with the remix.





Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry
And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky
And the tears that I cried for that woman are gonna flood you Big River
Then I'm gonna sit right here until I die
 
I met her accidentally in St. Paul, Minnesota
And it tore me up every time I heard her drawl, Southern drawl
Then I heard my dream was back downstream Cavortin' in Davenport
And I followed you, Big River, when you called
 
Then you took me to St. Louis later on down the river
A freighter said she's been here but she's gone, boy, she's gone
I found her trail in Memphis but she just walked up the block
Raised a few eyebrows and then she went on down alone
 
Now, won't you batter down by Baton Rouge, River Queen, roll it on
Take that woman on down to New Orleans, New Orleans
Go on, I've had enough, dump my blues down in the gulf
She loves you, Big River, more than me
 
Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry
And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky
And the tears that I cried for that woman are gonna flood you Big River
Then I'm gonna sit right here until I die
 
Songwriters
CASH, JOHNNY R.

Lyrics credit to: Johnny Cash - Big River Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Poetry Analysis: I Heard A Fly Buzz When I Died By Emily Dickinson

This may be my favorite Emily Dickenson poem. I remember reading it many years ago in college, and it has forever stuck with me. Every time I see a fly I can’t but help recalling this poem. As with many of Dickinson’s poems, it concerns death, our relationship to it, or the experience of it. Let’s look at it in detail. Here’s the entire poem.
 

I Heard a Fly Buzz

by Emily Dickinson
I heard a Fly buzz – when I died –  
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air –  
Between the Heaves of Storm – 
 
The Eyes around – had wrung them dry –  
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset – when the King
Be witnessed – in the Room –  
 
I willed my Keepsakes – Signed away
What portions of me be
Assignable – and then it was
There interposed a Fly –  
 
With Blue – uncertain stumbling Buzz –  
Between the light – and me –  
And then the Windows failed – and then
I could not see to see –
There are at least several possibilities on how to read the poem.


A. The Atheist Reading: The narrator is dying; she expects Christ (“the King”) to come at her death but all she gets is a fly.
 
B. The Damned Reading: The narrator is dying; she expects Christ but gets a fly, a fiendish, satanic creature.   
 
C. The Saved Reading: Here there are at least two possibilities, which I’ll get to.
 
Let’s look at the atheist reading first, since I think we can dispel it quickly. In support of such a reading, the poem ends with no dramatic post life experience. Christ doesn’t come. The moment of death is dramatized with a failing of the senses: “I could not see to see.“  A fly is an insect that hovers over carrion, a dead piece of flesh that has no further consciousness.  The fly, then, would serve as an emblem for materialism, supporting an absence of an afterlife. 

However, there are strong arguments that undermine it.  First we know that Dickinson was a believer.   She may have evolved to an unconventional Christianity, but it was still solidly Christian.  Just two poems before “I Heard a Fly Buzz” in Dickinson’s catalogue of poetry is a poem clearly displaying her faith, “I live with Him—I see His face.”  This poem was probably written within days of our poem under analysis.  (For an account of Dickinson’s faith in her poetry, see In Light of Christ: Writings in the Western Tradition by Lucy Beckett, Ignatius Press, p. 424-30.)
 

Of course she may have suspended her faith for the sake of this poem but there are way too many examples of her being not just a religious person, but a devout person.  More importantly, while the poem does end with a failure of sensation, the poetic stance is of a person looking back in time.  It’s in past tense: “I heard a fly buzz,” a sort of circling back from the ending experience.  She has died, and she’s recalling those final moments in an afterlife.  Some sort of consciousness is there, implied by the narrative voice, only not of a flesh and blood, living consciousness.  If she was really suggesting atheism, she could easily have taken a different poetic stance and come out with a very similar poem.
 

The damned reading is rather interesting, and I think harder to disprove.  Is a fly a sort of inversion of the normal dove emblem of the Holy Spirit?  Is it some sort of demonic angel?  Is it Satan himself, sometimes referred to as Beelzebub (or other times it’s the name of one of his deputies), a name with a “buzz” sound to it?  This time we can’t rely on her biography or other supporting poetry to contradict this.  In humility any Christian knows their salvation is not guaranteed, and she may have taken this fancy and dramatized the possibility. 

Still, there is one thing the poem lacks to support that reading.  There is no rationale for her going to hell.  The center of the poem is about an organized preparation: the acceptance of imminent death, the waiting for “the last onset,” the willing away of “keepsakes,” the signing away of the “portions” of the self.  Such preparation of the end would typically include a confession, a setting right of one’s trespasses.  I love the phrasing, “Signed away/What portions of me be/Assignable.”  It’s not just material articles she’s alluding to—that would be redundant to willing away her keepsakes—but an inner part of her, a signing away of her sins.  She has made her peace with God and there would be no reason for going to hell.  Unless her point is that even then you can still go to hell. But if that were so then she rhetorically would need more to flesh that point out since it goes against common understanding.  With that, this reading is not probable.
 
So let’s look at saved readings.  Here there are two possibilities.  
 

Let me take the simple one first.  The fly is a sort of weird angel, come to draw her heavenward.  Or it could be Christ Himself, the King in a rather humble insect mode.  Death would be seen not as some great momentous event as expected at the beginning of the poem, but a rather ordinary, common event.  The rhetorical device here would be contrast, the expectation of Christ the King versus the reality of the humble fly, and that would be analogous to the expectation of death as momentous verses common.  That is a possible reading but it doesn’t really explain that last stanza. 
 

All three of the above readings cannot explain why the fly moves “with Blue uncertain stumbling Buzz.”  That is the most remarkable line of the poem.  Why is it blue and why does it stumble?  Would Christ stumble?  Would Satan stumble?  Certainly a fly over carrion would not be stumbling.
 

Another way to read the poem is that the fly is her soul coming out at the moment of her death, that moment of stillness “between the heaves of storm.” The last six lines dramatize that fraction of a second where the soul has come out and the body is momentarily still functioning.  Christ the King is there in the light, coming from the window.  Flies are drawn to light, and so interposed.  Her soul is drawn to Christ, as a fly is drawn to light.  Her bodily eyes in that moment of death are seeing her soul as a fly leave her body and head toward the window’s light.  “And then the windows failed” is a wonderful way to phrase her death.  Windows don’t fail, unless they break, and that’s not what’s happening here.  It’s how her eyes would sense her death, a failing to further function. 
 

So why is the buzz stumbling and blue?  First let’s appreciate that line.  The sound effect is wonderful, alliterating the bilabial “b” consonant (blue, second syllable of stumbling, buzz) to simulate the fly sound.  Second, stumbling is what happens when one is unsure of one’s self.  She, in the form of a soul, has just crossed over into a new mode of existence and hasn’t gotten her bearings and balance yet.  But why blue?  Sounds don’t have color.  A description of one sense with another sense, here describing sound as a color, is a form of synesthesia, a description of a perception that is so intense that it crosses senses. Death has just occurred, Christ is shining before her, all experiences that she has never felt.  The new perception is unlike common perception, a sort of camera filter transitioning hue.  Why blue?  Besides the alliteration, perhaps it’s suggestive of the sky, the path toward heaven, perhaps suggestive of peace, perhaps suggestive of death—a sort of black with light—perhaps suggestive of a body of water, of a new beginning.
 
I hope you enjoyed the poem and my analysis.  So which reading makes most sense to you?  Or is there another reading altogether you can think of?  If there is anything you can add, please do.  I also hope next time you see a fly in the house you will think of this poem as I do.  I leave you with a clip of a dramatized reading of the poem.
 

Friday, October 18, 2013

Faith Filled Friday: On Patience by Teresa of Ávila

Tuesday, October 15th was the feast day from one our most insightful saints, St. Teresaof Ávila, both a mystic and a doctor of the church.  I have wanted to read her most famous work, The Interior Castle, and it’s on my bookshelf, but I haven’t gotten to it yet.  So many books, so little time.  Perhaps next year.

 

 

 

Connie from her blog, Contemplative Homeschool,  posted this wonderful, well known quote from St. Teresa, so wonderful I'm going to post it too.  Actually it’s not so much a quote, but according to Connie, she wrote it “on a bookmark she kept in her breviary.” 

 
Let nothing disturb you;
Let nothing frighten you.
All things are passing.
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things.
Nothing is wanting to him who possesses God.
God alone suffices.

 

I think it makes a great little prayer.
 
 

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Music Tuesday: Giuseppe Verdi Appreciation Thread

The other day on the 10th was the 200th anniversary of Giuseppe Verdi’s birth.  He is by far my favorite opera composer, and frankly, I don’t care what anyone says, the greatest.  I’m not going to get to why, just accept it.  I have to admit, though, to my embarrassment I have never been to an opera.  I have wanted to go on numerous occasions, but one of two things happens.  Either the opportunity requires me to go to an opera that is not a Verdi work, and no, I keep telling myself, my first has to be Verdi.  Or, an opportunity comes up and my wife nixes it.  Unfortunately my wife is not into classical music or opera.  I have dragged her quite a few times to the Philharmonic, and she detests it.  The only reason she agrees is for a night and dinner in Manhattan.  But the night has to be just right. I have not had such a coincidence of a Verdi opera and her willingness to suffer through one. 

If you don’t know too much about Verdi, oh find the time to learn about his music, and listen.  Start with the Essential Verdi: 40 of His Greatest Masterpieces. 

How about we start with this well known aria from Rigoletto, La donna è mobile."    Here’s the great Luciano Pavarotti singing, “Woman is flighty./Like a feather in the wind,/she changes in voice/and in thought.”

 

And then there is the opera that first brought Verdi to the heights of the greats, Nabucco,  a storyline based on the flight of the Israelites from their Babylonian captivity.  This great chorus, titled, “Va, pensiero” as you can read was inspired on Psalm 137 and sometimes referred to as “The Chorus of  the Hebrew Slaves.”  It’s sense of nationalism became a sort of rallying cry for the unification of Italy during the next two decades.  Turn the volume up on this.  Every time I hear it it brings tears to my eyes.

 

Greet the banks of the Jordan
and Zion's toppled towers...
Oh, my country, so beautiful and lost!
Oh, remembrance, so dear and so fatal!

Another of my favorites is Aida, a story set in ancient Egypt.  The Egyptians have captured Aida, an Ethiopian princess, and Radamès, a military commander, falls in love with her.  To make a long story short he chooses to die than give her up.  Here is the great final scene where he is locked up in a vault to suffocate, but finds that his beloved has hidden herself to die with him.  From outside they hear chanting from a festival to the dead, and so that their death becomes associated with the divine.

 
 

Of Verdi’s 28 operas, only two were comedies, his second, which stands as his one possible failure, and therefore was reluctant to ever attempt another comedy, until his very last, Falstaff, based on Shakespeare’s comic play, The Merry Wives of Windsor.  Here’s that wonderful finale, and therefore might be Verdi’s last composition.

 

Here from Il trovatore, a chorus of soldiers singing of going into battle.  I just love this. 

 

I also could have gone with the great gypsy chorus, otherwise known as the “Anvil Chorus” from Il Trovatore, but I limited myself to one per opera.  They really do hammer at anvils during the chorus.  Do yourself a favor and look that one up.


Finally let me end with my all time favorite, LaTraviata.  The central character is Violetta, a courtesan (fancy prostitute, to be blunt), who falls in love with Alfredo, and try to run away from her past.  Here, from where the two meet at a party where this toast “Libiamo ne’lieti calici,” is sung, or in English, “Drink from the joyful cup.”  You have probably heard this.  It’s about as perfect a piece of music as can get.

 

Here are the entire lyrics for this one.
Alfredo
Let's drink, let's drink from the joyous chalices
that beauty so truly enhances.
And may the brief moment be inebriated
with voluptuousness.
Let's drink for the ecstatic feeling
that love arouses.
Because this eye aims straight to the heart, omnipotently.
Let's drink, my love, and the love among the chalices
will make the kisses warmer.
Chorus
Ah! Let's drink, and the love among the chalices
will make the kisses warmer.
Violetta
With you all, I can share
my happiest times.
Everything in life
which is not pleasure is foolish.
Let's enjoy ourselves
for the delight of love is fleeting and quick.
It's like a flower that blooms and dies
And we can no longer enjoy it.
So enjoy; A keen and flattering
voice invites us!
Chorus
Let's enjoy the wine and the singing,
the beautiful night, and the laughter.
Let the new day find us in this paradise.
Violetta
Life means celebration.
Alfredo
Only if one hasn't known love.
Violetta
Don't tell someone who doesn't know.
Alfredo
But this is my fate...
All
Let's enjoy the wine and the singing,
the beautiful night, and the laughter.
Let the new day find us in this paradise.
 

Oh I would love to have that played at my funeral!
Let us drink to this wonderful, joyous genius, Giuseppe Verdi.