fairyland, and other dreams

 Well, everybody was praising the "mildness" of the day - it was above freezing. 

Last Sunday night, it snowed. We woke up to a fairyland.

It was so cold all week, the four inches stayed. It's been in the single digits at night. Today was a pleasant reprieve, even though just around forty.

I finished the Star of Bethlehem book; the author's conclusion was it was probably a planetary conjunction. Would that really be so bright? I am no astronomer. The most interesting thing in the book turned out to be a quote from Franz Kafka:

"The Messiah will come as soon as the most unbridled individualism of faith becomes possible - when there is no one to destroy this possibility and no one to suffer its destruction.....The Messiah will come only when he is no longer necessary; he will come only on the day after his arrival; he will come, not on the last day, but on the very last."

                                                            

That was written in 1935. I think we're almost there.

There was a very loud bang yesterday, like a bird hitting a window, only louder. We looked out to see a hawk, resting a way off from the house. He didn't stay long, and didn't seem hurt. 

The other day, Suzy Q, the library director mentioned the 250th "birthday" of Jane Austen. She said we should celebrate - well, her birthday's in December, so there's plenty of time to plan. But I went to the basement to get my regency dress. And I don't believe I've ever mentioned it here.  

I don't remember how many years ago, but I had discovered Jennie Chancey's website, Sense & Sensibility. She made period sewing patterns, and I bought this one.

I made it in a black watch plaid cotton flannel, with a black lining of - not sure I remember correctly. A broadcloth of some kind, probably a cotton/poly. The buttons are plain black plastic and there's a bit of cheap black nylon lace at the sleeve edge. I put black piping along the bodice seams!  (What has happened to my sewing mojo?)  I'll have to take a photo of it. Well, it doesn't fit me now, but I would never get rid of it. It must be the best thing I ever made! I had also made this pattern from a pretty quilting cotton in a soft green with a gentle dragonfly design over all and a bit of gold metallic shine here and there. I don't have that one anymore, but I found a photo on her site of me in it! Here it is.  I made it a little shorter so I could actually wear it. It's modeled after a dress Kate Winslet wore in Sense and Sensibility, here.  

Should I sew another Regency dress? 

following

 The reading at Mass today was Jesus' first recorded miracle, at the Cana wedding. It indicates that the mother of Jesus was the one who was invited, and because of her, Jesus and disciples were also there. It may have been someone she was rather close to, because of her concern when the wine was running out.

Anyway, we know the story, but it struck me today that the text says afterward, "his disciples began to believe in him."  So, they were going around with him before they saw any miracle, or manifestation of who he might be. That's interesting. 

Have you seen this recent AI image of Jesus floating around online?

Very compelling, isn't it? It was derived from examining the Shroud of Turin. Imagine a man, two thousand years ago, looking even half as alive (intense?) as this man, going around to certain humble "blue-collar" workers, saying, "Come, follow me." He wasn't known yet, there were no public miracles yet - it's not as if he showed them one or two to convince them - but they went with him. Very, very interesting.

His intensity is rather scary. He couldn't have been scary, though - that would be counter-productive, wouldn't it? He didn't come to scare us. The opposite! But still, I do like this image. He is beautiful and very alive. Does he look like a Prince of Peace? Maybe not, but he doesn't look like anything could scare him, or deter him from his purpose. What may be lacking in this picture would be a look of love in his eyes, which AI would be incapable of (in my opinion). 

There was a cry, "Behold, the bridegroom!

Come out to meet him!"

-  Matthew 25:6

four Ruth Pitter poems

 I mentioned to Gretchen, in a comment, that I was reading a little book of Ruth Pitter's poetry. And that I couldn't really find one I actively like.

This book was published in 1953, so I guess it's safe to put a few here. 

                 The Ermine

I know this Ermine. He is small,
Keen-biting, very quick withal.

He dies of soil. He is the snow.
I marvel anyone can know

This Ermine: he is delicate.
Yes, maculate immaculate,

He is well seen and known by me,

Rough-handed homespun though I be.

I muse on him. His little eye
Reflects no beam I do not spy.

I through his snowy silence hear

Beyond the labyrinthine ear.

Royal he is. What makes him so?

Why, that too is a thing I know:

It is his blame, his black, his blot;

The badge of kings, the sable spot.

O subtle, royal Ermine, tell

Me how to wear my black as well.

Okay - now, I have no problem with this poem; I don't think it's gloomy. What is it about? If a real ermine, why is the word capitalized? Does it matter why? Is it really about something else?  I have no problem with this poem. But I move along through the book.

The Great Winter, 1946-1947

The leaves die, fall and go.
They lie all under the snow.

In the great snow the grass dies;

Still the deep clouds fill the skies.

Summer wept, and now the east

Roaring falls on man and beast.

And man and beast die, fall and go;

Under the sky's pall, rain or snow;

Neither hut nor palace stays

The sure ending of their days;

Age and sickness and the wars

Stretch them stiff beneath the stars.

And the stars die, fall and go.

Eye by eye, they cease to glow;

Orb by orb, the storm of suns

To its end in glory runs;

The great wheels, the galaxies,

Shall turn no more about the skies.

Since all must die, fall and go,

Why do we mourn that it is so?

All mourn, lament and weep

That creation falls asleep?

This was given us to make

Our spirits homeless for His sake.

Okay, this poem is sound theology - she's a believer.  Next:

The Other

Like a bird in the rainy cover
When song is fallen still,

It dwells apart, and over

Blue hill upon blue hill.

As a bird in the green places

When summer days are long,

Falls weary, and embraces

Silence instead of song,

Far and apart it muses

In the obscure and dim,

Forgetting the sweet uses

Of voice and feather and limb.

Small, small and slender,

Crowned with its faint gold crown,

It dwells where the light is tender,

Like fair hair falling down.

Swiftness and song were moulded

Into that wing, that breast;

But now the wing is folded,

The throbbing throat at rest.

When from that bosom narrow

The fiery singing flew,

Like a sharp secret arrow

It pierced my armour through.

But its great silence haunts me

In the solemn summer gloom;

The voiceless thing enchants me

As with a sense of doom.

A monument, a token

Of all we have betrayed,

Of all that we have broken -

It makes my soul afraid.

Far from the tumult fleeing,

The shrines that we destroy,

Is it my own grieved being

Mourning its unborn joy,

Or some indignant spirit

Whose power can afford

To give us what we merit -

A silence like a sword? 

All right. Now we are getting to what I complaining of to Gretchen: these poems seem kind of gloomy. Well, this one does. To continue:

The Neophyte

Something I see and feel,

But I must not speak.

It lives, O it is real,

But cold and weak

As a far light in a cave,

As the faint glow

That the green glow-worms have,

As stars of snow;

As tenuous jellies small,

Knotted, turned in,

That you may see on a wall

Where the tide has been;

Whence the great swinging deep,

With its bell-mouthed roar,

Has gone, and left them asleep,

Flowers no more;

Has gone, falling away

Far to the main:

But with the day, with the new day,

Shall come again.

Alright, I think they are not really gloomy, but they seem to be. She has faith in God, in the next life, and her poems all seem to be about that. I think it's just her way of saying it. I have no problem with her ability! I cannot write poetry! I told Gretchen that I missed Christina Rossetti in comparison. But, Christina wrote a lot about love: lost love, unrequited love, hopeless love, etc.. So that's where she was coming from and that's what she had to write about. And this woman can only tell things in her own way, too. It's just that she is saying true things, but there seems a heavy-air hanging about them. (in my opinion)

I can't say I dislike these poems; they are well-crafted. Maybe I'm just nit-picking.

moving along

 

I'd forgotten about this Star of Bethlehem book; it tries to figure out what it was that shone so brightly to guide the three magi to Bethlehem. I had found it on the sale table at the library, and then it got buried under a stack at home. Of course. The author has all sorts of ideas about it. The green cover of the Niall Williams has called to me for years, every time I came across it at work, so I finally took it home. It's the second in his memoirs of life in Ireland after moving from New York. I remember that many years ago his first one was serialized in the newspaper, and was very popular. It's about time I picked it up, I guess.

Plodding along with my dress, I am now ready for the sleeves. Except, like the skirt, the pattern piece is nowhere to be found. But that's okay, because I'm not that keen on the sleeves, anyway. And then I got a catalog from Poetry, and there is this dress in corduroy that's just like the one I'm making, but with sleeves I like a whole lot better. I don't know how long that link will last, so maybe I can take a photo from my catalog another day. Anyway, I went through my patterns and found this blouse one from years ago. I never made it, but it's similar - if I can take out some of the volume it might do. 

It'll be a starting point.

I bundled up and ran outside before it got dark, longing for some fresh air. 

The grass is in its dried-up winter state. I just ran around and breathed the cold air for a bit.

This is what winter looks like where I live. Unless there's snow to make it all pretty. Although I was trying to see the beauty. 

The warped ramp to the shed. 

"A supremely powerful man and a keen politician, Herod usually acted quickly and decisively. Outlaws who threatened his borders on the Syrian frontier were put to death. So were rivals suspected of conspiracy. And, after siding with Antony, who lost to Caesar int he dominant Roman politics of the era, Herod courted Caesar's favor so astutely, his own crown in hand, that he became the Roman emperor's trusted governor and friend."

                                                 - The Star of Bethlehem, Jeanne K. Hanson

I'm curious to see what her conclusion will be.

paying attention

 "It turns out that attention - what we pay attention to, and how we attend - is the most important part of the mindset needed for re-enchantment.

It's like this: if enchantment involves establishing a meaningful, reciprocal, and resonant connection with God and creation, then to sequester ourselves in the self-exile of abstraction is to be the authors of our own alienation.
'Attention changes the world,' says Iain McGilchrist. 'How you attend to it changes what it is you find there. What you find then governs the kind of attention you will think it appropriate to pay in the future. And so it is that the world you recognize (which will not be exactly the same as my world) is firmed up - and brought into being.'

Matthew Crawford writes that living in a world in which we are encouraged to embrace the freedom of following our own desires - which entails paying attention only to what interests us in a given moment - actually renders us impotent. He writes, 'The paradox is that the idea of autonomy seems to work against the development and flourishing of any rich ecology of attention - the sort in which minds may become powerful and achieve genuine independence.'"

                                                        -  Rod Dreher, Living in Wonder

keeping it going

 A bunch of parishioners stayed after Mass today to get all the Christmas decorations put away; all that's left are the poinsettias. There are a lot of them, red and white, and they're bright and cheery. But all that beauty, with the wonderful Italian nativity we have, the lights, the sparkly ornaments, the greenery on every windowsill - all away. It's the only way to do it, of course, with a disparate group all living in different places, together to perform a task.

But how strange it all is - here one moment and gone the next. In our homes we don't have to be so "complete" about it. We can let it wind down gradually for a little while longer. But then we will have to be like Scrooge, honoring Christmas in our hearts and trying to keep it all year. Because it's been born, and it wants to keep living. 

"In the English calendar, Twelfth Night was for many centuries a time of more riotous festivity than Christmas Day - a last hurrah of feasting before the return to work. During the Middle Ages the Christmas season lasted forty days, until Candlemas on 2 February, and January was supposed to be a month of feasting*, not fasting - the exact opposite of the modern 'Dry January'."

                           -  from Winters in the World: a journey through the Anglo-Saxon year, by Eleanor Parker

*I'm all in with that. 

three good things

 It was supposed to snow lightly this morning, from five till ten. But it didn't stop, and it's been snowing all day. With no accumulation! Still, there is something about snow falling, even if it doesn't mount up. 

I made a wonderful discovery yesterday! I diligently use the little defuzzing machine on my sweaters, which works excellently, but I had the idea to try it on my opaque tights. They're made from recycled nylon and get pilly after a while, so that I have to toss them. I mostly wear longer skirts, so it doesn't show much, but eventually..........well, this worked like a charm!! My tights are like new - try it!

Rather exciting, to extend the life of your clothes.

The wrens are often found at the bird feeder, which is a new thing this year. It can't be that they suddenly have a taste for black sunflower seeds; they must be increasing in our area. I find them very cute. 

feeding the birds

It's been very cold here, in the twenties for a few days. But after a warm breakfast I went out to see what's going on outside. I couldn't see too well, because for the past month I've been going around with one contact lens, but I just wanted some sunshine and briskness. 

I looked at the state of my garden beds. They seem well, and the overabundance of dried leaves has settled, and that's a relief.

Over in the corner near the new little cherry tree, some birds fluttered up when I drew near. I thought I saw some white stripes - was it a mockingbird? I suddenly remembered many years back in a cold, windy winter, when I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for a mockingbird living in the brush at the brook's edge. I'd throw it through the kitchen window, and he'd see me and come over. It's been so cold - I should go in and make a sandwich for the birds! I went back to the house. I made a nice sandwich, brought it out, broke it up and scattered it around.

I never saw anyone near there. Then it was time to go to the eye doctor. When I returned - (I can see, I can see!) - I thought I'd go over while I had my coat on. The pieces were gone! Hurrah!, said Fred, Scrooge's nephew. I agree with him. I'll have to keep it up. 

the twelfth day of Christmas

 Our priest has been saying some thought-provoking things lately - well, at least to me. (I guess that's what they're supposed to do, anyway) On Christmas he said if we want to benefit from the great event of God becoming human, we need an appreciation of humanity. He gave as an example the expression we often hear/say: "I'm only human". But it is an important part of us; we are not Gnostics. 

I am copying this from chatgpt.com:

Gnosticism was a diverse religious and philosophical movement in the early centuries of Christianity (primarily in the 2nd and 3rd centuries AD) that emphasized esoteric knowledge (gnosis) as the path to salvation. Gnostics generally believed that the material world, created by a lower or flawed deity (often identified with the God of the Old Testament), was corrupt, imperfect, and should be transcended. They often taught that true spiritual enlightenment involved the escape from the material realm and union with a higher, divine, and pure realm of spirit.

For Gnostics, the physical world was not the focus; rather, the inner, spiritual knowledge was considered the key to salvation. They viewed the body and the material world as prisons for the soul, and they often promoted asceticism or other practices to distance oneself from the physical realm.

This view was in sharp contrast to the orthodox Christian belief that the material world, including the body, was created good by God and that it had a role in God's redemptive plan, including the incarnation of Jesus Christ, who took on a physical body.

To go off the subject a little, (the "subject" being the thought-provoking things Father has been saying lately), there is a movement that is gaining traction lately called transhumanism that basically believes we can raise ourselves up to a godlike state, via technology of various sorts. From chatgpt:

Transhumanism is a philosophical and intellectual movement that advocates for the use of advanced technology to enhance the human condition, particularly by transcending the limitations of the human body and mind. The central idea behind transhumanism is that human beings can and should use science and technology to improve their physical and cognitive abilities, potentially leading to a post-human future where humans surpass their biological constraints.

Where have we heard this speech before? "You shall be like god", from Genesis, chapter three. We haven't learned much, have we? 

these figures are at the Met, in New York

Today in the U.S. we observe Epiphany, which is really tomorrow, but it isn't given the attention over here as it is in Europe. Epiphany is when the three kings, or magi, or wise men arrived to worship the child Jesus. They represent the first non-Jews who acknowledged Jesus as King, above themselves. So, it's kind of our feast day. What Father said was that "Epiphany was when God made himself known. He has no hidden agenda." He wants to be known.  And this is something we can learn from in our dealings with others. He pointed out that when Satan approached Eve, he did not introduce himself. When he tempted Jesus in the desert, he didn't introduce himself first.

I just found the whole thing very interesting.

Happy New Year!

 I changed all the calendars. I like wall calendars, and we have several around the place. Some are for writing on, some not - the pretty ones. 

It was the strangest day - sunny, but at the same time, snowing. No accumulation, and no dark cloud above that I saw, but the flurries, again and again, with the sun shining, in the early afternoon. I could hear it, so it must have been sleety for a while. I was snug inside with my Christmas carols.

It seems once I started reading about enchantment, I find it in all sorts of places. 

"Yes, Samuel, dragons are real. So are angels and demons. So are high priests over heaven and mighty kings and great queens and a Savior with a face like fire and a heart as gentle as a lamb's. So much is real that is beyond our sight. The things of the earth that we understand as absolute are rooted in a reality much greater, subtler, and lovelier than we have ever experienced. But sometimes we can imagine it. When we step aside into the spacious halls of hush, when we enter a story or sojourn with a song, when we look into the heart of the beauty and drama cramming the world at our fingers, we enter that inmost room from which many doors lead onward to a world we have only begun to share."

                                             -  Sarah Clarkson, Reclaiming Quiet

Speaking of enchantment, I bought myself one of those alpine Christmas trees for a corner of my bedroom, but never got around to opening the box till yesterday. It's perfect! Five feet high and nice and narrow. It looks real to the eye, but to the camera it's lacking something. I'll keep trying. It has no lights, but I'm working on that, too.