Soren Kierkegaard – slow reads

‘Now my soul is in turmoil, and what am I to say? “Father, save me from this hour”? No, it was for this that I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.’ A voice came from heaven: ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’ The crowd standing by said it was thunder they heard, while others said, ‘An angel has spoken to him.’ Jesus replied, ‘This voice spoke for your sake, not mine.’ (John 12:27 – 30, REB)

Jesus looks over his audience. Philip and Andrew have just introduced him to the first large contingent of Greeks he has run into during his three-year ministry. These pilgrims have come for Passover but also to see Jesus. There they are, standing together.

Just behind them in the west, the sky begins to darken.

Jesus draws his audience in, as a hen might her chicks from an approaching storm, with his confidential reflections. “What am I to say?” he booms. Looking straight into the darkening sky, he concludes: “Father, glorify your name.” He stares upwards for a minute, then he climbs off the rock, which was serving as an informal dais.

Categories

Passages

THE DISPOSABLE

22 April 2021 - Tom

The disposableline ask fornothing.Write somethinghard like rockbrought upby winter'sheave, leftto warmin spring sun,permanent,mythic.The Middlewesterner [Read more...]

The mailman raps on the door,

22 April 2021 - Luisa A. Igloria

or the water meter-reader. More than a year of not going to church, a year of not mingling at the market or going to school. Days filled with exhaustion and ache for any kind of fellowship. But then the soul, shut away so long, also shrinks now at the merest wind, raw as the surface of a purling river. You're asked if you really love such solitude. But when they say love, they mean endure, outlast through grief after grief and terrible misgiving. How could you admit the whole sky again inside, the papery dust and pollen of flowering trees; a body to walk with on some scarlet and burnished evening that asks you to witness how the light never stopped dropping into its slot nor delivering itself again, maybe a little dented but still in one piece on the other side. [Read more...]

Encounters

22 April 2021 - Dave Bonta

Up, and walked to White Hall, there to wait on the Duke of York, which I did: and in his chamber there, first by hearing the Duke of York call me by my name, my Lord Burlington did come to me, and with great respect take notice of me and my relation to my Lord Sandwich, and express great kindness to me; and so to talk of my Lord Sandwich’s concernments. By and by the Duke of York is ready; and I did wait for an opportunity of speaking my mind to him about Sir J. Minnes, his being unable to do the King any service, which I think do become me to do in all respects, and have Sir W. Coventry’s concurrence therein, which I therefore will seek a speedy opportunity to do, come what will come of it. The Duke of York and all with him this morning were full of the talk of the ’prentices, who are not yet [put] down, though the guards and militia of the town have been in… [Read more...]

Fourth Horseman

21 April 2021 - Dale

I have, reasonably enough, focused all my health energies on eluding the three horsemen that are waiting for us most of us monkeys-turned-sedentary-snackers: cancer, diabetes, cardiovascular disease. They'll take down three quarters of us. I have not given much thought to my health beyond that, since escaping all three, and especially cardiovascular disease, seems unlikely. But sparing a thought for it, it strikes me that if those three horsemen miss me, it's exactly this -- "throwing my back out" -- that is likely to take me down. Oh, they won't write it down as "cause of death." But if you've watched someone decline due to age, you'll know it's a step function: one after another, events knock them down that they don't come back from. Falls, illnesses, infections, car accidents, whatever they are: eventually there's something that they don't rebuild from at all. This is my fourth horseman: someday my back will go out, and I'll stop exercising for good, and then I'll be in the end-game. When the wolf pack catches up with you,… [Read more...]

IN SOME LANGUAGE (41)

21 April 2021 - Tom

In some languagethe word for heavenalso means plum blossom.The Middlewesterner [Read more...]

In the comment box, a woman scoffs

21 April 2021 - Luisa A. Igloria

You're not really from here. By which she means I can't trace my blood- line to rows of bodies laying brick or tending animals, passing like dark threads through tufted fields of cotton in fields owned by her great- grandfather; neither can I trace my ancestry back to the likes of her people sitting on their porches, surveying their kingdom—thousands of acres; cabinets stacked with porcelain; heavy furniture carved with scrolls and pineapple flourishes. She's proud her people were enlightened and had the grace to let their slaves go to church on Sundays, besides allowing them learn to read and write. But had my people come to work in these parts at that time, likely we wouldn't have been good for anything but hauling lumber or cutting tobacco in the blistering heat; our grandmothers and aunts, only for polishing the floors and washing the laundry. When I stand in front of my classroom each term, are these the only things my students see? In 1611, in the country of my birth, the first universty opened… [Read more...]

Tumult

21 April 2021 - Dave Bonta

Up pretty betimes, and so there comes to me Mr. Shish, to desire my appearing for him to succeed Mr. Christopher Pett, lately dead, in his place of Master-Shipwright of Deptford and Woolwich, which I do resolve to promote what I can. So by and by to White Hall, and there to the Duke of York’s chamber, where I understand it is already resolved by the King and Duke of York that Shish shall have the place. From the Duke’s chamber Sir W. Coventry and I to walk in the Matted Gallery; and there, among other things, he tells me of the wicked design that now is at last contriving against him, to get a petition presented from people that the money they have paid to W. Coventry for their places may be repaid them back; and that this is set on by Temple and Hollis of the Parliament, and, among other mean people in it, by Captain Tatnell: and he prays me that I will use some effectual way to sift Tatnell what he… [Read more...]

Pelagic

20 April 2021 - Loren

I went to Port Orchard to see if the Horned Grebes were in breeding plumage yet, but on this visit I only saw a single grebe and it wasn’t in breeding colors yet. In fact, there were remarkably few birds in the marina. Most of the seabirds that overwinter there seemed to have left for their breeding grounds. Luckily, Pelagic Cormorants are year-round residents, and it’s rare that I visit Port Orchard without seeing one. Usually, they seem largely indifferent to people and to the camera, apparently willingly posing. If they do think you are too close they will dive and emerge 100 yards away. On this visit, though I got a demonstration of their ability to fly away when they want to. This Pelagic Cormorant suddenly leapt out of the water made one big hop and catapulted into the air before settling down less than 50 yards away, calmly watching me as I took several more shots. In checking the spelling of its name in Birds of the Puget Sound Region I found… [Read more...]

Hey Hey Hey

20 April 2021 - Dale

The back is recovering, at last: I'm hoping that day before yesterday was the worst of it. Everything works pretty well now if, every time I get up from sitting for more than a few moments, I spend a little time convincing my lumbar spine that normal extension is not courting death. The two best ways to do this are a) to crawl about on the floor for a while, or b) to do a sort of push-up move on a chair set or counter, letting my whole spine sag into (unweighted) extension. ("Extension" is a technical term here, meaning, in re the spine, "bending backwards.") If I get up from sitting and try to walk straightaway, I can't even fully straighten my legs, and I walk in a weird hobbling gait, with my pelvis in an exaggerated posterior tilt -- like the R. Crumb Hey Hey Hey truckin' guy -- and the back pain sonar starts to ping.I went so far as to take some ibuprofen, yesterday, which is for me an extreme measure:… [Read more...]

THIS PLACE

20 April 2021 - Tom

This place wasthis place beforeit had a nameand it will bethis place longafter we areforgotten.The Middlewesterner [Read more...]

Epiphora

20 April 2021 - Luisa A. Igloria

Of second, third, fourth chances. To learn about the boy who came back as if from the dead, climbed out of the car wreck and lived to be nearly a hundred; and the girl raked over by wave after wave who came back to build that house made of sticks on the rocks. Something about the bird that dropped its feathers so it could remember what it's like to be naked in the mouth of the world—Sometimes it mouthed the shape of what sounded like love or a kiss or a call. Even if it didn't, we had to forgive it for confusing salt for sugar, for what dissolves easily in foam. We stood without moving, or learned to stop running away. [Read more...]

Over the influence

20 April 2021 - Dave Bonta

Up, and after discoursing with my wife about many things touching this day’s dinner, I abroad, and first to the taverne to pay what I owe there, but missed of seeing the mistress of the house, and there bespoke wine for dinner, and so away thence, and to Bishopsgate Streete, thinking to have found a Harpsicon-maker that used to live there before the fire, but he is gone, and I have a mind forthwith to have a little Harpsicon made me to confirm and help me in my musique notions, which my head is now-a-days full of, and I do believe will come to something that is very good. Thence to White Hall, expecting to have heard the Bishop of Lincolne, my friend, preach, for so I understood he would do yesterday, but was mistaken, and therefore away presently back again, and there find everything in good order against dinner, and at noon come Mr. Pierce and she, and Mrs. Manuel, the Jew’s wife, and Mrs. Corbet, and Mrs. Pierces boy and girl. But we… [Read more...]

Counting Backwards

19 April 2021 - Dale

Am I so sure that no one has anything to teach me? But years, years have past, and no book has done better than wake a thin, knowing smile. "Oh yes. That notion. Yes, nicely put." I admire the shine, maybe, or the labor. But the thought? Or the life it bodies forth? Nah. The idea, particularly, that any 21st Century American would have anything useful to say seems especially absurd. What could anyone who grew up in this absurd travesty of a nation have to say, but "Get out if you can"?But it leaves me stupid, and getting stupider. Stupidity fairly oozes from me, these days. Dull ignorance and prejudice. I grow brittle. I roam my little spaces and think my my old stupid thoughts. The sky is a little airless cap over my little airless neighborhood. I count, and count, and count: the number of breaths since I started trying to sleep; the seconds until I take my eggs off the stove, the eighths of inches my waist has grown or shrunk, the… [Read more...]

IN SOME LANGUAGE (40)

19 April 2021 - Tom

In some languagethe word for good-byealso meansBaby, don't go.The Middlewesterner [Read more...]

Elementary

19 April 2021 - Luisa A. Igloria

One of us buffs the schoolroom floor with half a coconut husk. Another leans over the second floor railing to clap two blackboard erasers together. For a moment, trapped chalkdust looks like powdered sugar falling. The mothers who've waited on concrete benches by the entrance are packing up their crochet hooks and threads, bits of exchanged stories. The lone janitor hauls water in a large plastic pail; when he goes down the row of toilet stalls, we hear a sluggish chorus of flushing. At the end of the year, we sand- paper the edges of our books and give them a fresh Manila paper covering; the next class will use them. Perhaps one of them will see the penciled answer to a chapter question or math problem that our dutiful erasing overlooked. [Read more...]

Poetry Blog Digest 2021, Week 15

19 April 2021 - Dave Bonta

A personal selection of posts from the Poetry Blogging Network and beyond. Although I tend to quote my favorite bits, please do click through and read the whole posts. After last week’s flirtation with a tighter focus on poetry, it’s back to the usual, glorious miscellany of poets thinking out loud about all manner of things (but mainly poetry). Some themes did emerge: poetry about women’s experiences, hopefulness about the easing pandemic, the pleasures of books, and the numinous power of large animals. Enjoy. paperboydelivering births and deathson his cycleJim Young [no title] Here I am again. Is it spring, with its stuttering reenactment of incarnation, that renders me numbskulled, vacant?I’m inert. Such a great word, short-stopped by that cul-de-sac of an -ert.Like the newly snow-emerged and dim-colored field, I am empty.I have not written in a long time. Nothing is on my mind. I am thought-less. Seem to have nothing to say. Have no idea how to write a poem.No idea why I would even do such a thing.Have no sense that I’ve ever done… [Read more...]

TEN OLD MONK POEMS (11)

19 April 2021 - Tom

IF YOU DON'TIf you don'tknow what it is,the old monk says,don't waste it.~HOW MUCHHow much can you endure,the old monk asked them.How pure is your heart?~AT THE THEATERThe old monk wentto the theater.Why do you hangaround here,they asked him.He said: I don't wantto miss the feature.~WRESTLINGWrestling the poem,the old monk says,I don't give upuntil it does.~THE OLD MONK'S SERMONSometimeswhat's most dearwe don't knowwe have.~TURN OUT THE LIGHTSTurn out the lightsbefore you're done,the old monk said.You'll see thingsdifferently.~IF IT WORKSIf it works,the old monk said,keep working ittil it won't.~IF WHAT YOU WANTIf what you wantis nothing,the old monk said,that's somethingyou can get.~CROW GOESCrow goeswhere coyote can't.Go with crow,the old monk says.~ASKED ABOUT PREACHERSAsked about preachersthe old monk said,don't get me started.~The Middlewesterner [Read more...]

Frontier

18 April 2021 - Dave Bonta

(Easter day). I up, and walked to the Temple, and there got a coach, and to White Hall, where spoke with several people, and find by all that Pen is to go to sea this year with this fleete; and they excuse the Prince’s going, by saying it is not a command great enough for him. Here I met with Brisband, and, after hearing the service at the King’s chapel, where I heard the Bishop of Norwich, Dr. Reynolds, the old presbyterian, begin a very plain sermon, he and I to the Queen’s chapel, and there did hear the Italians sing; and indeed their musick did appear most admirable to me, beyond anything of ours: I was never so well satisfied in my life with it. So back to White Hall, and there met Mr. Pierce, and adjusted together how we should spend to-morrow together, and so by coach I home to dinner, where Kate Joyce was, as I invited her, and had a good dinner, only she and us; and after dinner she and… [Read more...]

IN SOME LANGUAGE (39)

18 April 2021 - Tom

In some languagethe word for rocking chairalso means wisdom.The Middlewesterner [Read more...]

Guni-guni*

18 April 2021 - Luisa A. Igloria

Memory is always changing the ways we think of things— Slipped into the pages of an obscure book: a ticket from the World's Fair. The picture of a woman wearing Yale padlocks for earrings, another of a white army officer posing in front of a hut, each hand cupping the bare breast of a native girl flanking him on either side. I don’t agree with what the last one insinuates: they aren't smiling with hospitality or pleasure. There is nothing to caption in the manner of a potentiality. The smell of burning lingers in the air long after the carnivals have taken down their tents and flags. * Guni-guni; [noun; reduplicative] hallucination; imagination; illusion; figment; mirage [Read more...]

Category: Soren Kierkegaard

John field notes 12(b)(2): What the thunder said

John field notes 12(b)(1): What the thunder said