No more R&B - it's R&M&B:D
The better music:))
May 31, 2006
May 29, 2006
Beliefs and Doubt
Those who believe they believe in God, but without passion in the heart, without anguish of mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, and even at times without despair, believe only in the idea of God, and not in God himself.
Madeleine L'Engle
My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust? If the whole show was bad and senseless from A to Z, so to speak, why did I, who was supposed to be part of the show, find myself in such violent reaction against it? A man feels wet when he falls into water, because man is not a water animal: a fish would not feel wet. Of course, I could have given up my idea of justice by saying that it was nothing but a private idea of my own. But if I did that, then my argument against God collapsed too--for the argument depended on saying that the world was really unjust, not simply that it did not happen to please my private fancies. Thus in the very act of trying to prove that God did not exist--in other words, that the whole of reality was senseless--I found I was forced to assume that one part of reality--namely my idea of justice--was full of sense. Consequently atheism turns out to be too simple. If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning: just as, if there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be without meaning.
C.S. Lewis (Chapter 1 of The Problem of Pain)
We think having faith means being convinced God exists in the same way we are convinced a chair exists. People who cannot be completely convinced of God’s existence think faith is impossible for them. Not so. People who doubt can have great faith because faith is something you do, not something you think. In fact, the greater your doubt the more heroic your faith.
Real Live Preacher
Chair! EICTE:D
More atheism quotes here.
Deadline time^_^
Real Live Preacher
Chair! EICTE:D
More atheism quotes here.
Deadline time^_^
A Topical Post On Christianity
And if Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain,
and your faith is also vain.
1 Corinthians 15:14 (King James Version)
and your faith is also vain.
1 Corinthians 15:14 (King James Version)
Several people asked me why I didn't boycott the Da Vinci Code movie, as requested by a number of Christian churches, including the Bulgarian Orthodox Church. There are at least three reasons: first, my sceptical contempt for conspiracy theories; second, my faith rests on different - and secure - grounds, (in biblical language on rock, not on sand); third, I haven't read the book, nor am I planning to, and I wanted to be aware of this cultural phenomenon of our times.
I like to be familiar with enemy ideologies, too:P This one, pretending to shake the foundations of Christianity, is an easy target. The reference to the Council of Nicaea as the starting point of belief in Christ's divinity was the most outrageous statement in the movie, which is also the easiest to refute. Yes, the Council of Nicaea finalized the creed, but the majority of Christians had believed in the human and divine nature of Jesus Christ even while he was a minor prophet from a provincial town in Galilee. He was sentenced to death for blasphemy, ffs. He claimed to be God, which for his Jewish contemporaries is simply impossible to accept. Judaism is emphatically different from pagan religions where 'sons of gods' roam happily the earth having casual sex with god-fearing human maids. When Jews said 'God' they thought of the Creator of heaven and earth, the all-powerful, the eternal. And the concept of a man who claimed he was Son of God was deeply disturbing, for enemies and friends alike.
The movie mentions Christ's crucifixion, and death, as a fact. The death of Christ was disputed for a long time by heretical theologians, even more so than the resurrection. They talked of 'feigned' death, because they didn't doubt the resurrection, and wisely so. The evidence for the 'empty tomb' is overwhelming, for any unbiased historian and psychologist. When Jesus died, he left a group of discouraged men and women who had denounced him. How did they transform into the boldly preaching apostles we see in the Book of Acts in the New Testament? They must have seen something that changed their lives. They refused to believe, at first, some wanted empirical evidence of the senses (Thomas is one of my favorite characters). The very rise of the early church is a miracle, considering the historical facts. The claim that until the fourth century and Constantine the church believed Christ to be only a man is utter and profound BS.
The alleged relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene is not startling news. It was hinted at in Jesus Christ Superstar musical, too;) However, the person sitting on the right side of Jesus, depicted in the Last Supper painting by Leonardo, is John. Period. The same one to whom he entrusted the care of his mother. The same one, whom he 'loved' in a more special way than others. Why not fabricate a lovely gay conspiracy theory using the information? Ah, because we need a feminine connection, the pagan one. The symbolism of the womb seems to be an essential ingredient of any cult, and I don't mind, having had two kids:D But hey, Christianity already has a feminine cult. Good guess, it's the other Mary. The mother of Christ. The one called Theotokos in Greek, Bogoroditsa in Bulgarian, and Virgin Mary in English, which does not render the significance of 'Christ's Birth-giver' at all. Alas, I can't write a post without lyrics. It's inevitable:D
Rejoice, you through whom joy shall shine. Rejoice, you the Redemption of the tears of Eve.
Rejoice, Height hard to climb for human thought. Rejoice, Depth hard to explore even for the eyes of Angels.
Rejoice, for you are the Throne of the King. Rejoice, for you sustained the Sustainer of all.
Rejoice, Star that causes the Sun to appear. Rejoice, Womb of the divine Incarnation.
Rejoice, you through whom creation is renewed. Rejoice, you whom the Creator is born a Babe.
From the Orthodox Akathist to Mary (as long as the Bilhana poem)
I'm not going to say anything on the topic of immaculate conception, virgin birth, and the role of Mary in salvation. I just would like to stress that yet another womb in the Christian religion would be a little excessive.
A final thought: if Jesus was 'just a man', and not the Saviour, as purported by the Church, why are his descendants so important? Why not the descendants of any other ancient figure? Descent is central to Judaism, by the way, and Jesus' descent is traced back to king David, and to Adam, for that matter. So Sophie is an heir of Adam, too. Wow. What else can I say...
The next movie I'd like to see, is The Body. Now this is serious challenge. In any case, Antonio Banderas is a joy to look at, which cannot be said of Tom Hanks.
May 27, 2006
In The Mood For Love
This, and the 'sequel' movie, 2046, are enqueued for a later post, together with V for Vendetta and Da Vinci Code.
This is a promise. Er... a teaser (tnx Ikew).
This is a promise. Er... a teaser (tnx Ikew).
The title was chosen because I thought it appropriate for a flashback post from February 2005, which in turn is a flashback from February 2001. So very postmodernist:P In addition, this is a translation of a translation, which makes it even more postmodernist.
Bilhana in Bulgarian.
Bilhana in English.
There is room for improvement, but overall I am happy with the final product. Good enough^^ (tnx M).
Bilhana in Bulgarian.
Bilhana in English.
There is room for improvement, but overall I am happy with the final product. Good enough^^ (tnx M).
May 26, 2006
Parody Thread Continued
For true fans of The Beatles and Metallica:
Enjoy!
And check the FAQ;)
I can't but quote some song titles:
...Sgt Hetfield's Motorbreath Pub Band
And Justice For All My Loving
Blackened The USSR...
I spent 45 minutes with a blissful smile on:) Long live Last.fm!
The bastard child of heavy metal and 60s rock, the cool breeze of eclecticism, the boredom-chasing power of word games... Beatallica!
Enjoy!
And check the FAQ;)
I can't but quote some song titles:
...Sgt Hetfield's Motorbreath Pub Band
And Justice For All My Loving
Blackened The USSR...
I spent 45 minutes with a blissful smile on:) Long live Last.fm!
May 25, 2006
The Profit by Kehlog Albran
Some quotes from a masterpiece of parody:
A priest asked,
What is Fate, Master?
And he answered:
It is that which gives a beast of burden its reason for existence.
It is that which men in former times had to bear upon their backs.
It is that which has caused nations to build by-ways from City to City upon which carts and coaches pass, and alongside which inns have come to be built to stave off Hunger, Thirst and Weariness.
It is that which has caused great fleets of ships to ply the Seven Seas wherever the wind blows.
And that is Fate? said the priest.
Fate... I thought you said Freight, responded the Master.
That's all right, said the priest. I wanted to know what Freight was too.
***
A quiet woman said,
Speak to us of Virtue.
He then answered.
Goodness and Kindness are popular Virtues.
Some Virtues are much older.
The serene chaos that is Courage, and the phenomenon of Unopened Consciousness have been known to the Great World eons longer than Extaboulism.
Why is that? the woman inquired.
Because I just made that word up, the Master said wisely.
***
Then an eccentric looking man said,
Speak to us of Art.
And he said:
It might as easily be said that man could live without Art as that man could live without water.
Look upon the innocent scribblings of little children.
Doubt not that each of us emerged from the womb an artist.
Art is freedom.
That which is called Art, yet is made subservient to commerce is not Art.
That which is called Art, yet is made subservient to a Nation or State is not Art.
That which is called Art, yet is hanging in the Museum of Modern Art is not Art. That crap my six year old son could do, the Master explained.
***
And a scholar asked, Should a man drink wines, ales and liquors to excess?
He then said:
He who drinks too much wine will feel the price of that ecstasy the next morning.
For exotic liquors must be taken in moderation or all will pay the penalty of misuse.
Man is the only creature to have the ability to create intoxicants.
No other animal has the taste for spirits.
Nature allows no other animal to taste of that pleasure, because nature depends upon all other animals to remain stable and predictable.
Man is the only animal that is allowed the dubious privilege of overindulgence.
Have you ever seen another animal drunk and falling down in the street, sobbing, stinking, and acting totally insane?
No, I haven't, Master, replied the scholar.
Then you haven't met my horse, the Master stated.
:)
A priest asked,
What is Fate, Master?
And he answered:
It is that which gives a beast of burden its reason for existence.
It is that which men in former times had to bear upon their backs.
It is that which has caused nations to build by-ways from City to City upon which carts and coaches pass, and alongside which inns have come to be built to stave off Hunger, Thirst and Weariness.
It is that which has caused great fleets of ships to ply the Seven Seas wherever the wind blows.
And that is Fate? said the priest.
Fate... I thought you said Freight, responded the Master.
That's all right, said the priest. I wanted to know what Freight was too.
***
A quiet woman said,
Speak to us of Virtue.
He then answered.
Goodness and Kindness are popular Virtues.
Some Virtues are much older.
The serene chaos that is Courage, and the phenomenon of Unopened Consciousness have been known to the Great World eons longer than Extaboulism.
Why is that? the woman inquired.
Because I just made that word up, the Master said wisely.
***
Then an eccentric looking man said,
Speak to us of Art.
And he said:
It might as easily be said that man could live without Art as that man could live without water.
Look upon the innocent scribblings of little children.
Doubt not that each of us emerged from the womb an artist.
Art is freedom.
That which is called Art, yet is made subservient to commerce is not Art.
That which is called Art, yet is made subservient to a Nation or State is not Art.
That which is called Art, yet is hanging in the Museum of Modern Art is not Art. That crap my six year old son could do, the Master explained.
***
And a scholar asked, Should a man drink wines, ales and liquors to excess?
He then said:
He who drinks too much wine will feel the price of that ecstasy the next morning.
For exotic liquors must be taken in moderation or all will pay the penalty of misuse.
Man is the only creature to have the ability to create intoxicants.
No other animal has the taste for spirits.
Nature allows no other animal to taste of that pleasure, because nature depends upon all other animals to remain stable and predictable.
Man is the only animal that is allowed the dubious privilege of overindulgence.
Have you ever seen another animal drunk and falling down in the street, sobbing, stinking, and acting totally insane?
No, I haven't, Master, replied the scholar.
Then you haven't met my horse, the Master stated.
:)
May 23, 2006
Another Seven
I just translated an excerpt from The Madman, by Khalil Gibran. (His name was misspelt when he moved from Lebanon to the USA, so might be found also as Kahlil).
Седемтe аз-а
В безмълвието на нощта лежах полубуден, а седемте ми аз-а седяха заедно и разговаряха шепнешком.
Седми аз: Колко чудно, че вие се бунтувате срещу този човек, защото всеки от вас има предопределена съдба, която трябва да изпълни. О, да бях един от вас, да бях аз с предначертана участ! Но аз нямам такава, аз съм аз-ът на бездействието, който стои в кухото празно нийде и никога, докато вие сте заети да пресътворявате живота. Вие ли трябва да се бунтувате, о, братя, или аз?
Caramel and Hazelnuts
I went to a wedding on Saturday. It is the wedding which changed my attitude to this kind of events. I hated weddings all my life, note the past tense here;). The wedding dress was caramel, the wedding cake was hazelnuts. The bride and the cake were wonderfully sweet!
Great choice of music, Finnish and Bulgarian folk (EICTE), Blind Guardian, and of course, Star Wars themes. Each guest had an appointed seat, marked with an envelope with a card, meant for writing down good wishes. I recommend this idea to all future wedding organizers:D
Some quotes on love and marriage I couldn't write on my card.
Great choice of music, Finnish and Bulgarian folk (EICTE), Blind Guardian, and of course, Star Wars themes. Each guest had an appointed seat, marked with an envelope with a card, meant for writing down good wishes. I recommend this idea to all future wedding organizers:D
Some quotes on love and marriage I couldn't write on my card.
For true love is inexhaustible; the more you give, the more you have. And if you go to draw at the true fountainhead, the more water you draw, the more abundant is its flow.
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
When you realize
You want to spend
The rest of your life with somebody,
You want the rest of your life
To start as soon as possible.
When Harry Met Sally (Movie)
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
Khalil Gibran
And of course, the ultimate Khalil Gibran poem on the topic.
On Marriage
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.
June is early this year:)
May 19, 2006
Not A Topical Post on Christianity
My soon-to-be-number-one song Hallelujah, by Rufus Wainwright, featured in Shrek OST, is actually a cover of a Leonard Cohen song, as mentioned in this post. However, Cohen's song has different lyrics, so does Jeff Buckley's version.
You say I took the Name in vainI don't even know the Name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
There was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
But I remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Now maybe there's a God above
But all I ever learned from love
Is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It's not a complaint that you hear tonight
It's not someone who's seen the light
It's a cold and lonely Hallelujah
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I learned to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come here to fool you
And even though it went all wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Halleluljah
The difference between 'holy dark' and 'holy dove' got me thinking...
The choice which stanzas to include or exclude, changes the complexity of meanings somewhat. To me, the song seems to be alluding to a mixture of human and divine love, entailing suffering and joy, interwined. This is one of the reasons I embraced Christianity - it connects human and divine worlds in a manner which rings true.
Here is the shortest answer to the question everyone has asked at least once. What am I doing here? What is the chief end of man? (not necessarily male;)
Here is the shortest answer to the question everyone has asked at least once. What am I doing here? What is the chief end of man? (not necessarily male;)
“Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever.”
The Westminster Shorter Catechism
Christianity is hedonistic, regardless of what popular writers say:)
Unrelated note: I might as well be in love...
May 18, 2006
Birthday Presents From Arenanet
My warrior and my ele are one year old. How time does fly:D
Arenanet give birthday presents to characters, aren't they nice. I got a whiptail devourer and a jungle troll:)
May 16, 2006
Zen Expression
If you mix Sand and Water
Over Plant,
Plant grows.
Over Plant,
Plant grows.
Zen enough? Try.
I like pen size 32. Speed depends on the mood.
For the ultimate experience, Enigma as background music:)
Thanks for the link, Ffox. If you had a blog, I would credit you in true blogger fashion;)
May 13, 2006
Plumbers and Poets. Beat That!
Some poems by Sevdalina Ilevska, written in high school.
I have obtained permission from the author:)
I have obtained permission from the author:)
---
Аз съм сал, към живота привързан
с много дълго въже.
Приютявам полупремръзнали,
полумъртви мъже.
Даже давам им да размътят
самотата ми, да я разплискат.
Точно тъй си представям смъртта –
да живееш, когато не искаш.
КАТО РЕКА
Град, във който живях на шега, ей така,
в който вече не зная кому да почукам.
Аз си тръгвам от тебе като река –
все изтичам и все има ме тука.
Град, колкото шепа голям,
вързан здраво с две магистрали.
Какви измерения да ти дам –
две кина, казарма и хали.
Град с умерен климат и нормални валежи,
в който всичко е ясно като на длан.
Теглят силите центробежни –
силно стягаш своя капан.
Аз тека, надалече от тебе тека,
кой знае към погром или слука.
Аз си тръгвам от тебе като река –
все изтичам и все още съм тука.
---
Върху меката пръст кротко мъти снега.
Колко много омраза се превръща в тъга.
Просто моят приятел ми е вече познат.
Просто вече научих какво е хазарт.
Доброволно съвети обискират съня.
А вали от небето непризната вина
сякаш мънички котви спуска облачен кораб.
Всъщност има ли смисъл въобще да говоря…
---
Късни жеги. Изпръхнала пръст
и сплъстени треви между буците.
Сякаш лятото спря насред път
свойта жълта и прашна каруца.
Суховеят целува пръстта
пред очите на строгия климат.
От дърветата литват листа
като малки вълшебни килимчета.
---
Само още една крачка нататък
и разбираш, че си се лъгал.
Човекът е като малко стъкълце на земята –
блести под точно определен ъгъл.
---
Душата, татуирана със имена и дати,
срамува се от себе си и мрази голотата.
Бои се от очите ти, че там ще се огледа.
Протяга пипалцата си, опипва всяка педя.
А хората стърчат като бодли по тротоарите,
изострени от чакане, опърлени от старост.
Очите им са блажни, телата им са потни.
Душата ми, душата ми е толкова самотна.
Когато те целуна, от спуканата устна
ще бликне капка кръв и тя ще ме напусне.
Ще пъпли по ръката ти, ще литне най-накрая,
калинката – душата ми – ще ни ожени в рая.
---
Нещо някак си се е случило
и нощта тътне като лавина.
Уж в ръката си държа ключа,
а не мога оттатък да мина.
Драскам с нокти, удрям с юмруци
мълчаливо-мъдрата брава.
Тишината нервно закуца,
но изплува като удавена.
Вън небето кърмеше залеза –
моя светъл мечтан отпечатък.
Ако трябва години ще чакам,
но ще мина оттатък.
---
Надеждата ми – тя е като плевел
и как да я изкореня с ръка –
пониква, щом страхът ме е обсебил
и избуява, щом я отрека.
Вирее въпреки добрия разум
и има тайнствено-секретен код.
Надеждата – единствена зараза,
която заразява от живот.
И за да не си помисли някой, че съм сантиментална: e-bane за водопроводчика. Пресен битовизъм :)
May 12, 2006
Jaguars and Poets, Or Ecstasy Revisited
Малко упражнение по (български) стил за радост на Алвин и други литератори. Няма да използвам нито една английска дума! Зор, ви казвам:Р
"Тогава човек открива,
че едни момичета се свалят със спортна кола,
а други с Джон Дън."
Питър Бъргър, социолог
че едни момичета се свалят със спортна кола,
а други с Джон Дън."
Питър Бъргър, социолог
Еха! Не е малко признание да те сравнят със спортна кола, по-точно Ягуар, както се конкретизира в следващото изречение от този анонс на книга.
Кой е този поетичен аналог на авто-могъществото? Освен декан на катедралата "Сейнт Пол" в Лондон и баща на 12 деца, Джон Дън е виден представител на школата на метафизичните поети от 17 век. Наричат ги така, защото пишат завъртяно и неразбираемо за интелектуално-духовните аспекти на любовта. Стилът им се характеризира с употреба на разгърнати сравнения и метафори, чиито начало и край се преплитат в рамките на няколко строфи. Критиците им ги обвиняват във високопарност и безчувствена претенциозност. Според Джон Драйдън, английски просвещенец от 18 век, Дън "се занимава с метафизика... в любовните си стихове, където трябва да властва само природата... и затруднява умовете на нежния пол с ... философски спекулации, вместо да говори на сърцата им и да ги занимава с нежна любов". Друг представител на същата школа е цитирания от мене Андрю Марвел.
При Дън въпросът на ужасната ми учителка по литература "какви мисли и чувства изразява поетът" е буквално приложим, защото мисълта и чувството са еднакво важни части от душата. Свикнали сме да смятаме, че поезията обитава царството на емоциите, на вълненията и желанията. Но също така може да се каже, че тя е израз на стремлението на духа, което според метафизичните поети включва и интелекта. "Екстазът" е едно от най-сложните стихотворения на Джон Дън и е посветено на любимата му тема за отношението душа-тяло.
Тялото според Дън и християнското богословие е добро. В телата няма нищо осъдително, "дължим им благодарност", "не ни замърсяват, а ни удовлетворяват". Душите се зачеват телом, тeлата са "книги на любовта" и на финала на стихотворението ние се завръщаме в тях, непроменени. Все пак поетът има доста еротични стихове, редом с религиозните:) В тях жената между другото е представена не като идеалния недостижим образ от традицията на Петрарка, а като реалистичен, понякога дори натуралистичен, обект на страст.
В "Екстазът" обаче физическото общуване е по-скоро средство за постигане на "съчетанието на душите". Съчетанието е вид "синергия", съгласно богословската терминология, сливане и превъзмогване на отделността на човека, "овладяване на недъзите на самотата". В това сливане има елемент на война на две "равни армии с несигурна победа" (ок, не съм права, Ео и Фрост), има елемент на "преговаряне" между душите, докато телата лежат като "надгробни статуи". "Телата са наши, но не са ние", казва Дън, "ние сме "интелектите, а те са сферите". И двете изграждат "тайнствения възел" на човешката личност, който може да бъде разплетен, чрез интелектуалното съзерцание на метафизичната поезия.
Дън е всичко друго, но не и спонтанен, емоционален и лесносмилаем, любовта му също. Неговите влюбени са едновременно пасивни и активни, чувствени и извисени. Взаимопроникването на две отделни същества и предефинирането на връзката помежду им като новосъздадено същество не е невъзможна утопия. Любовта може да бъде рационализирана, обяснявана и анализирана без това да накърни възвишеността и красотата й. Тя не се случва "просто така", както ни се съобщава в романтичните комедии. Разбира се, "Шрек" прави изключение. Оттам идва култовата реплика за лука, която знам само на английски и затова няма да я цитирам за заключение, вие си знаете:)
Кой е този поетичен аналог на авто-могъществото? Освен декан на катедралата "Сейнт Пол" в Лондон и баща на 12 деца, Джон Дън е виден представител на школата на метафизичните поети от 17 век. Наричат ги така, защото пишат завъртяно и неразбираемо за интелектуално-духовните аспекти на любовта. Стилът им се характеризира с употреба на разгърнати сравнения и метафори, чиито начало и край се преплитат в рамките на няколко строфи. Критиците им ги обвиняват във високопарност и безчувствена претенциозност. Според Джон Драйдън, английски просвещенец от 18 век, Дън "се занимава с метафизика... в любовните си стихове, където трябва да властва само природата... и затруднява умовете на нежния пол с ... философски спекулации, вместо да говори на сърцата им и да ги занимава с нежна любов". Друг представител на същата школа е цитирания от мене Андрю Марвел.
При Дън въпросът на ужасната ми учителка по литература "какви мисли и чувства изразява поетът" е буквално приложим, защото мисълта и чувството са еднакво важни части от душата. Свикнали сме да смятаме, че поезията обитава царството на емоциите, на вълненията и желанията. Но също така може да се каже, че тя е израз на стремлението на духа, което според метафизичните поети включва и интелекта. "Екстазът" е едно от най-сложните стихотворения на Джон Дън и е посветено на любимата му тема за отношението душа-тяло.
Тялото според Дън и християнското богословие е добро. В телата няма нищо осъдително, "дължим им благодарност", "не ни замърсяват, а ни удовлетворяват". Душите се зачеват телом, тeлата са "книги на любовта" и на финала на стихотворението ние се завръщаме в тях, непроменени. Все пак поетът има доста еротични стихове, редом с религиозните:) В тях жената между другото е представена не като идеалния недостижим образ от традицията на Петрарка, а като реалистичен, понякога дори натуралистичен, обект на страст.
В "Екстазът" обаче физическото общуване е по-скоро средство за постигане на "съчетанието на душите". Съчетанието е вид "синергия", съгласно богословската терминология, сливане и превъзмогване на отделността на човека, "овладяване на недъзите на самотата". В това сливане има елемент на война на две "равни армии с несигурна победа" (ок, не съм права, Ео и Фрост), има елемент на "преговаряне" между душите, докато телата лежат като "надгробни статуи". "Телата са наши, но не са ние", казва Дън, "ние сме "интелектите, а те са сферите". И двете изграждат "тайнствения възел" на човешката личност, който може да бъде разплетен, чрез интелектуалното съзерцание на метафизичната поезия.
Дън е всичко друго, но не и спонтанен, емоционален и лесносмилаем, любовта му също. Неговите влюбени са едновременно пасивни и активни, чувствени и извисени. Взаимопроникването на две отделни същества и предефинирането на връзката помежду им като новосъздадено същество не е невъзможна утопия. Любовта може да бъде рационализирана, обяснявана и анализирана без това да накърни възвишеността и красотата й. Тя не се случва "просто така", както ни се съобщава в романтичните комедии. Разбира се, "Шрек" прави изключение. Оттам идва култовата реплика за лука, която знам само на английски и затова няма да я цитирам за заключение, вие си знаете:)
May 11, 2006
Ecstasy
Teh sensuality:D
THE ECSTACY.
by John Donne
WHERE, like a pillow on a bed,
A pregnant bank swell'd up, to rest
The violet's reclining head,
Sat we two, one another's best.
Our hands were firmly cemented
By a fast balm, which thence did spring ;
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string.
So to engraft our hands, as yet
Was all the means to make us one ;
And pictures in our eyes to get
Was all our propagation.
As, 'twixt two equal armies, Fate
Suspends uncertain victory,
Our souls—which to advance their state,
Were gone out—hung 'twixt her and me.
And whilst our souls negotiate there,
We like sepulchral statues lay ;
All day, the same our postures were,
And we said nothing, all the day.
If any, so by love refined,
That he soul's language understood,
And by good love were grown all mind,
Within convenient distance stood,
He—though he knew not which soul spake,
Because both meant, both spake the same—
Might thence a new concoction take,
And part far purer than he came.
This ecstasy doth unperplex
(We said) and tell us what we love ;
We see by this, it was not sex ;
We see, we saw not, what did move :
But as all several souls contain
Mixture of things they know not what,
Love these mix'd souls doth mix again,
And makes both one, each this, and that.
A single violet transplant,
The strength, the colour, and the size—
All which before was poor and scant—
Redoubles still, and multiplies.
When love with one another so
Interanimates two souls,
That abler soul, which thence doth flow,
Defects of loneliness controls.
We then, who are this new soul, know,
Of what we are composed, and made,
For th' atomies of which we grow
Are souls, whom no change can invade.
But, O alas ! so long, so far,
Our bodies why do we forbear?
They are ours, though not we ; we are
Th' intelligences, they the spheres.
We owe them thanks, because they thus
Did us, to us, at first convey,
Yielded their senses' force to us,
Nor are dross to us, but allay.
On man heaven's influence works not so,
But that it first imprints the air ;
For soul into the soul may flow,
Though it to body first repair.
As our blood labours to beget
Spirits, as like souls as it can ;
Because such fingers need to knit
That subtle knot, which makes us man ;
So must pure lovers' souls descend
To affections, and to faculties,
Which sense may reach and apprehend,
Else a great prince in prison lies.
To our bodies turn we then, that so
Weak men on love reveal'd may look ;
Love's mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is his book.
And if some lover, such as we,
Have heard this dialogue of one,
Let him still mark us, he shall see
Small change when we're to bodies gone.
Here's part of the Bulgarian translation, courtesy of navigo.
. . Така, зареяни в екстаз,
проникваме в любов незрима
и виждаме, не полът в нас
ни води, нещо друго има.
Нали душите се изграждат
от смес, за всеки строго лична –
в любов събрани, те пораждат
сплав нова, обща и различна.
Едничък теменужен стрък,
прихванал корени в земята,
надраства всеки свой недъг
в цвета, във ръста, в аромата.
Когато в любовта си двама
съединят душа с душата,
добиват нова амалгама,
от двете стари по-богата.
Тъй общата душа расте
нетленна – тя е съчетана
от двете ни души, а те
не се поддават на промяна . . .
More John Donne poems, translated by Kristin Dimitrova.
My John Donne quote. EICTE:)
by John Donne
WHERE, like a pillow on a bed,
A pregnant bank swell'd up, to rest
The violet's reclining head,
Sat we two, one another's best.
Our hands were firmly cemented
By a fast balm, which thence did spring ;
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string.
So to engraft our hands, as yet
Was all the means to make us one ;
And pictures in our eyes to get
Was all our propagation.
As, 'twixt two equal armies, Fate
Suspends uncertain victory,
Our souls—which to advance their state,
Were gone out—hung 'twixt her and me.
And whilst our souls negotiate there,
We like sepulchral statues lay ;
All day, the same our postures were,
And we said nothing, all the day.
If any, so by love refined,
That he soul's language understood,
And by good love were grown all mind,
Within convenient distance stood,
He—though he knew not which soul spake,
Because both meant, both spake the same—
Might thence a new concoction take,
And part far purer than he came.
This ecstasy doth unperplex
(We said) and tell us what we love ;
We see by this, it was not sex ;
We see, we saw not, what did move :
But as all several souls contain
Mixture of things they know not what,
Love these mix'd souls doth mix again,
And makes both one, each this, and that.
A single violet transplant,
The strength, the colour, and the size—
All which before was poor and scant—
Redoubles still, and multiplies.
When love with one another so
Interanimates two souls,
That abler soul, which thence doth flow,
Defects of loneliness controls.
We then, who are this new soul, know,
Of what we are composed, and made,
For th' atomies of which we grow
Are souls, whom no change can invade.
But, O alas ! so long, so far,
Our bodies why do we forbear?
They are ours, though not we ; we are
Th' intelligences, they the spheres.
We owe them thanks, because they thus
Did us, to us, at first convey,
Yielded their senses' force to us,
Nor are dross to us, but allay.
On man heaven's influence works not so,
But that it first imprints the air ;
For soul into the soul may flow,
Though it to body first repair.
As our blood labours to beget
Spirits, as like souls as it can ;
Because such fingers need to knit
That subtle knot, which makes us man ;
So must pure lovers' souls descend
To affections, and to faculties,
Which sense may reach and apprehend,
Else a great prince in prison lies.
To our bodies turn we then, that so
Weak men on love reveal'd may look ;
Love's mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is his book.
And if some lover, such as we,
Have heard this dialogue of one,
Let him still mark us, he shall see
Small change when we're to bodies gone.
Here's part of the Bulgarian translation, courtesy of navigo.
. . Така, зареяни в екстаз,
проникваме в любов незрима
и виждаме, не полът в нас
ни води, нещо друго има.
Нали душите се изграждат
от смес, за всеки строго лична –
в любов събрани, те пораждат
сплав нова, обща и различна.
Едничък теменужен стрък,
прихванал корени в земята,
надраства всеки свой недъг
в цвета, във ръста, в аромата.
Когато в любовта си двама
съединят душа с душата,
добиват нова амалгама,
от двете стари по-богата.
Тъй общата душа расте
нетленна – тя е съчетана
от двете ни души, а те
не се поддават на промяна . . .
More John Donne poems, translated by Kristin Dimitrova.
My John Donne quote. EICTE:)
May 10, 2006
May 9, 2006
May 8, 2006
May 7, 2006
William Shakespeare - Sonnet 129
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight;
Past reason hunted; and no sooner had,
Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
129 and others translated by Evgenia Pancheva.
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight;
Past reason hunted; and no sooner had,
Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
129 and others translated by Evgenia Pancheva.
And All The Host...
The Bulgarians in Guild Wars Ladder.
If I place a link to the ladder on the right, would you check it now and then?
Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to do this in regular posts:)
If I place a link to the ladder on the right, would you check it now and then?
Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to do this in regular posts:)
May 3, 2006
The Supernatural Man (Not Necessarily Male)
One of the advantages of having a blog is that you save time sending this article on science and religion to icq contacts:)
A few more tidbits on the topic. Cleaning the house can wait:D
A few more tidbits on the topic. Cleaning the house can wait:D
A sermon on the difference between science and religion, by Richard Dawkins. What I like most about the text in Wikipedia are the two words before 'science' in the first paragraph. Ok, don't bother, it's public understanding. Public Understanding. Rings a bell?
Some more books by this popular science writer. Note the biblical references in most of the titles. Incidentally, he was a friend of Douglas Adams, who shared similar views on the subject. Yes, I am a raving fan of Douglas Adams, and I don't seem to object to propaganda in fictional form;) In the words of Neil Gaiman: "Writers are liars, my dear, surely you know that by now?"
Unlike fiction, non-fictional discourse has different claims. Or so it... claims. One of the post-modernist ideas that appealed to me most, was that any text, regardless of its genre, can be seen to use rhetoric and manipulative methods. The prevailing mode of our modernity is scientific discourse. We worship evidence, bow before discoveries, sing praises to scientists. I do too:) It's called idolatry;) My point is that if defenders of scientism cross into the realm of ideology, and that's legitimate, then why consider the attempts of proponents of Intelligent Design pathetic? They simply try to fit in the paradigm of the modern world, talking about age-old issues in a new guise. The two views have met midway, each borrowing bits of the other's arsenal. Our minds are a battlefield of ideologies, isn't it exciting?
The team of theists has taken control of the watchtower:P
Some more books by this popular science writer. Note the biblical references in most of the titles. Incidentally, he was a friend of Douglas Adams, who shared similar views on the subject. Yes, I am a raving fan of Douglas Adams, and I don't seem to object to propaganda in fictional form;) In the words of Neil Gaiman: "Writers are liars, my dear, surely you know that by now?"
Unlike fiction, non-fictional discourse has different claims. Or so it... claims. One of the post-modernist ideas that appealed to me most, was that any text, regardless of its genre, can be seen to use rhetoric and manipulative methods. The prevailing mode of our modernity is scientific discourse. We worship evidence, bow before discoveries, sing praises to scientists. I do too:) It's called idolatry;) My point is that if defenders of scientism cross into the realm of ideology, and that's legitimate, then why consider the attempts of proponents of Intelligent Design pathetic? They simply try to fit in the paradigm of the modern world, talking about age-old issues in a new guise. The two views have met midway, each borrowing bits of the other's arsenal. Our minds are a battlefield of ideologies, isn't it exciting?
The team of theists has taken control of the watchtower:P
May 2, 2006
Love Is Not A Victory March
My Guild Wars Factions copy will be late.
The alternative to getting drunk is posting love poetry.
Some poems by Blaga Dimitrova. May her soul rest in peace.
До утре
Без любов от днес нататък ще живея.
Независима от телефон и случай.
Няма да боли. И няма да копнея.
Ставам вързан вятър и замръзнал ручей.
Няма да съм бледна подир нощ безсънна -
но и няма да ми запламти лицето.
Няма вдън земя от мъка да потъна -
но и няма да политна към небето.
Няма да съм лоша - но и няма вече
жест като безкраен хоризонт да сторя.
Няма да ми притъмнява - но далече
няма да ми се отваря цял простора.
Няма вечерта да чакам изтомена -
но и утрото за мен не ще изгрява.
Няма от слова да зъзна вкочанена -
но и няма да изгарям над жарава.
Няма да заплача на жестоко рамо -
но и няма от сърце да се засмея.
Няма да умирам аз от поглед само -
но и всъщност няма вече да живея.
Вярност
От неговите стъпки - твоите са по-предани.
По-сигурни от неговите - твоите ръце.
Очите ти по-всеотдайно в моите са вгледани
И може би отчаян мислиш, че съм без сърце.
Но моите стъпки сякаш пуснали са корени,
неизтръгваеми, дълбоки в неговия път.
Очите ми за неговите са разтворени
и само в неговите мойте длани се топят.
И все едно каква отплата ще получа аз.
Кога и колко връща той, не тегля на везни.
И все едно дали по-верен е на случая,
или неуловимото той повече цени.
Остава мойта обич цяла, неразломена.
Над мене ветровете променливи нямат власт.
Кому съм вярна? Нему ли? Или на спомена?
Не зная. Може би на себе си съм вярна аз.
Към нея
Преди той още да се срещне с тебе,
аз вече те долавях като гръм -
далечен, приближаващ, неизбежен -
ти, всичко туй, което аз не съм.
Дали самата аз не те повиках
със моето предчувствие и страх?
И ти дойде до рамото, в което
аз най-безумните си тръпки влях.
И твойте топли нощи са пропити
с дъха дълбок, от който дишах аз.
И всяко твое утро се разпуква
от моя сън за неговия глас.
И твойта дневна светлина извира
от погледа, във който аз горях.
И ти живота мой ще изживееш,
и ще се слееш ти със моя смях.
Но както аз тогава те предчувствах,
така сега ще ме долавяш ти -
един далечен глъхнещ гръм след буря -
той няма никога да отехти.
И все така ще те предупреждава:
бъди нащрек под тихия покров,
и ако твоята любов не стига,
обичай го и с моята любов.
Денонощие
На разсъмване щом разпозная
потопения в изгрева хребет,
още първата мисъл е тая,
че не трябва да мисля за тебе.
И през целия ден вероломна,
тя където отида ме дебне
и каквото направя напомня,
че не трябва да мисля за тебе
А когато нощта е надвиснала
всяка болка във сън да обсеби,
аз не мога да спя и все мисля,
че не трябва да мисля за тебе.
I'll say it in two words. Sleep deprivation:)
The alternative to getting drunk is posting love poetry.
Some poems by Blaga Dimitrova. May her soul rest in peace.
До утре
Без любов от днес нататък ще живея.
Независима от телефон и случай.
Няма да боли. И няма да копнея.
Ставам вързан вятър и замръзнал ручей.
Няма да съм бледна подир нощ безсънна -
но и няма да ми запламти лицето.
Няма вдън земя от мъка да потъна -
но и няма да политна към небето.
Няма да съм лоша - но и няма вече
жест като безкраен хоризонт да сторя.
Няма да ми притъмнява - но далече
няма да ми се отваря цял простора.
Няма вечерта да чакам изтомена -
но и утрото за мен не ще изгрява.
Няма от слова да зъзна вкочанена -
но и няма да изгарям над жарава.
Няма да заплача на жестоко рамо -
но и няма от сърце да се засмея.
Няма да умирам аз от поглед само -
но и всъщност няма вече да живея.
Вярност
От неговите стъпки - твоите са по-предани.
По-сигурни от неговите - твоите ръце.
Очите ти по-всеотдайно в моите са вгледани
И може би отчаян мислиш, че съм без сърце.
Но моите стъпки сякаш пуснали са корени,
неизтръгваеми, дълбоки в неговия път.
Очите ми за неговите са разтворени
и само в неговите мойте длани се топят.
И все едно каква отплата ще получа аз.
Кога и колко връща той, не тегля на везни.
И все едно дали по-верен е на случая,
или неуловимото той повече цени.
Остава мойта обич цяла, неразломена.
Над мене ветровете променливи нямат власт.
Кому съм вярна? Нему ли? Или на спомена?
Не зная. Може би на себе си съм вярна аз.
Към нея
Преди той още да се срещне с тебе,
аз вече те долавях като гръм -
далечен, приближаващ, неизбежен -
ти, всичко туй, което аз не съм.
Дали самата аз не те повиках
със моето предчувствие и страх?
И ти дойде до рамото, в което
аз най-безумните си тръпки влях.
И твойте топли нощи са пропити
с дъха дълбок, от който дишах аз.
И всяко твое утро се разпуква
от моя сън за неговия глас.
И твойта дневна светлина извира
от погледа, във който аз горях.
И ти живота мой ще изживееш,
и ще се слееш ти със моя смях.
Но както аз тогава те предчувствах,
така сега ще ме долавяш ти -
един далечен глъхнещ гръм след буря -
той няма никога да отехти.
И все така ще те предупреждава:
бъди нащрек под тихия покров,
и ако твоята любов не стига,
обичай го и с моята любов.
Денонощие
На разсъмване щом разпозная
потопения в изгрева хребет,
още първата мисъл е тая,
че не трябва да мисля за тебе.
И през целия ден вероломна,
тя където отида ме дебне
и каквото направя напомня,
че не трябва да мисля за тебе
А когато нощта е надвиснала
всяка болка във сън да обсеби,
аз не мога да спя и все мисля,
че не трябва да мисля за тебе.
I'll say it in two words. Sleep deprivation:)
May 1, 2006
Second Chances?
King David was a man after God's own heart. (1 Samuel 13:13-14)
He also was a poet and a musician, a man after my own heart.
He also was a poet and a musician, a man after my own heart.
He became king of Israel after many turns of fate, the skirmish with Goliath one of the more popular. This is a story of his major failure after he became a King. It's not a military defeat, it's not a statesman's fiasco, it's not a rebellion of indignant subjects. It is a story of stealing another man's wife.
David acknowledged his failure in this Psalm. (there is a slight confusion in the numbering, in the Eastern Orthodox Church it is 50, in Roman Catholic it is 51). It is especially important for Orthodox Christians, as it is read during the Mystery of Repentance, aka Confession.
After he repented, he took the pregnant Bathsheba for his wife, and then the baby died. The death was a punishment for the sin they committed. I shudder at the thought of this kind of punishment, but, as after most punishments, consolation came, forgiveness was received, and another baby was born. They called him Solomon. Talk about second chances.
Song of Solomon is one of the most beautiful love poems in world literature.
Totally in character, this post was prompted by a song (surprise surprise?). I woke up this morning, and it was in my head.
Rufus Wainwright - Hallelujah
(Leonard Cohen)
I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Maybe I've been here before
I know this room I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
I remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Ok, this was supposed to be a post on sensuality:)
At least vaguely, it is.
David acknowledged his failure in this Psalm. (there is a slight confusion in the numbering, in the Eastern Orthodox Church it is 50, in Roman Catholic it is 51). It is especially important for Orthodox Christians, as it is read during the Mystery of Repentance, aka Confession.
After he repented, he took the pregnant Bathsheba for his wife, and then the baby died. The death was a punishment for the sin they committed. I shudder at the thought of this kind of punishment, but, as after most punishments, consolation came, forgiveness was received, and another baby was born. They called him Solomon. Talk about second chances.
Song of Solomon is one of the most beautiful love poems in world literature.
Totally in character, this post was prompted by a song (surprise surprise?). I woke up this morning, and it was in my head.
Rufus Wainwright - Hallelujah
(Leonard Cohen)
I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Maybe I've been here before
I know this room I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
I remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Ok, this was supposed to be a post on sensuality:)
At least vaguely, it is.
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