"It is wise to learn; it is God like to create." -John Saxe

WARNING: the following is merely me processing thoughts that have been building up during the last year or so, no conclusion will be reached.

My dear friend Sarah wrote the quote by John Saxe in a letter she sent me the other day, I've been thinking about it, a lot.

The other day my brother was telling me a story about one day when he was a child he was telling an adult about something he had recently learned, the adult told my brother he was one step closer to being like God (because God is all knowing), my brother said what was said had always bothered him.

Today I was reading one of Emerson's essays, it was about beauty (sadly I had to leave before finishing it, but I fully intend to finish it on Wednesday) He talked of how science had killed beauty, how if you showed him a bird to him and took it apart to show him its structure all he would see is a dead bird. He said not until you could tell him what the birds were saying would he believe you were an expert on birds. Then he went on to talk of beauty, he did not attempt to define beauty, but to show beauty by talking of what all see as beautiful.

Today in class we talked about rules of art, and how first you have to prove you can follow the rules before you are allowed to break them.

On the bus ride home I told my professor of me disgust for flannel-graphs, the feeling was mutual.

On the walk home I thought of children's love, delight for life, and when does that delight die?

I thought of how what God made is perfect (far superior to flannel-graphs) couldn't we use to world to show God.

I thought about how I shouldn't use say 'teach God' but rather 'show God'. God teaches you things, but you must know him to learn.

George MacDonald -love-

Last night I finshed the book Phantastes below is from the last few pages.

"I knew now,that it is by loving, and not being loved, that one can come nearest the soul of another, yea, that,where two love, it is in the loving of each other, and not the being the beloved by each other, that originates and perfects and assures their blessedness. I knew that love gives to him that loveth, power over any soul beloved, even if that soul knows him not, bringing him inwardly close to that spirit; a power that can not be but for good; for in proportion as selfishness intrudes, the loves ceases, and the power that springs therefrom dies. Yet all love will, one day, behold its own image in the eyes of the beloved, and be humbly glad."

George MacDonald -Phantastes-

Support Raising...

A word of explanation, my mom and dad are currently raising support for their ministry. This morning Dad was reading a book about how to write an effective support letter, some of the rules were; be familiar, be to the point, use small words. So we put our heads together and came up with the following:

Dear Homey G’s,

Me and my peeps have an awesome gig at a new crib. We don’t want to keep this on the dl, the deal is we are low on dough.

So, if you can send some cool cash our way to keep us from under the bridge.

Awesome.

Peace out brothers,

Your homeys from the WV

p.s. btw ur gr8

Lord Ullin's Daughter

Lord Ullin's DaughterA Chieftain to the Highlands bound, Cries, 'Boatman, do not tarry; And I'll give thee a silver pound To row us o'er the ferry.'
'Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?' 'Oh! I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter.
'And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather.
'His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover?'
Outspoke the hardy Highland wight: 'I'll go, my chief - I'm ready: It is not for your silver bright, But for your winsome lady.
'And by my word, the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry: So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry.'
By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still, as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men- Their trampling sounded nearer.
'Oh! Haste thee, haste!' the lady cries, 'Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.'
The boat has left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her- When oh! Too strong for human hand, The tempest gathered o'er her.
And still they rowed amidst the roar Of waters fast prevailing; Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore- His wrath was chang'd to wailing.
For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade, His child he did discover; One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid, And one was round her lover.
'Come back! Come back!' he cried in grief, 'Across this stormy water; And I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter!- oh, my daughter!'
'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore, Return or aid preventing; The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting.

Shattered

My brother has taken one of my dreams and trampled upon it. He just told me that the Library of Congress has a record of all the books published in the U.S. I thought it housed every book published. All these years I have been picturing a very tall, grand, old building full from floor to ceiling of books, like the library in Beauty and the Best. What is left to dream about? Where now will my thoughts drift off to?

Today Was An Exciting Day

Someone opened the door for me on my way into the library

I saw on old book, inside there was a poem about a highland lord and his bride it was sad but.... (man, I wanted to say beautiful then I started thinking about what does the word beautiful mean, now I don't know what adjective to use!)

In class we treated our own roll of film, my hands still feel and smell like fixer and my head still aches but it was really exciting,

While in the pitch black we talked about Wait Until Dark and Charades,

Aimee called, just to talk.