Crying in the Rain

I want to thank you, Lord,
For all you have given me
For all you have taken from me
For all you have left me...

1986 or so:)
The original song.

Long Time No Lyrics

Queensryche - Someone Else?

When I fell from grace
I never realized
how deep the flood was around me.
A man* whose life was toil was like a kettle left to boil,
and the water left these scars on me.

I know now who I am
If only for a while,
I recognize the changes.
I feel like I did
before the magic wore thin
and "baptism of stains" began.

They used to say I was
nowhere man,
heading down
was my destiny.
But yesterday, I swear,
that was someone else not me.

Here I stand at the crossroads edge,
afraid to reach out for eternity.
One step, when I look down,
I see someone else not me.

Looking back and I see
someone else.

All my life they said I
was going down,
but I'm still standing,
strong and proud.
And today I know there's
so much more I can be,
I think I finally understand.

From where I stand at the crossroads edge
there's a path leading out to sea.
And from somewhere
deep in my mind,
sirens sing out loud
songs of doubt
as only they know how.
But one glance back reminds, and I see,
someone else not me.

I keep looking back
at someone else ... me

*not necessarily male

The Mystery Which Binds Me

and the music and the echo of the music
went out into the Void, and it was not void

Circus Maximus - From Childhood's Hour

From childhood's hour he's been his only friend
Endless solitude until the end
As other's saw he could not bring
His passions from a common spring
In his growth he was raised and taught well
All that he loved, he loved alone
In his youth the surroundings drew nearer still
Like an autumn breeze that gives its chill
The thoughts were not keeping up with the learning spree
Leaving him behind the others could not see
"Show me hope, if I'd ever to last"
The dark haunts his present and his past
The melody of his heart chimed the wrong tone

In the day, in the dawn
Of a stormy life was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery... it binds him still
From which he could not love the less
So lonely was the loneliness
As a man he still dwelt alone
Wandering around a world of moan
Thinking will he ever get his bride?
Or is his life a stagnant tide?
Into a self made Hell he was thrown
All that he loved, he loved alone

Leaving him behind the others could not see
"Show me hope, if I'd ever to last, on my own!"

Thinking will he ever get his bride?
Or is his life a stagnant tide?
Into a self made Hell he was thrown
All that he loved, he loved alone.

Не e свръх-оригинално, но е преработка на стихотворението на По от предишния пост, а песента е чист, бляскав прогресив в традициите на Spock's Beard. Връзката ЕICTE е и в убежденията на норвежците Circus Maximus, които се явяват християнски прог метълисти, а такива се намират рядко, да не говорим за добри. През 2002 г. вокалът на Spock's Beard напуска основаната от него група заради промяна в нагласата си към света и започва да издава албуми с християнски текстове. Последният, Sola Scriptura, е изключителeн, но Нийл Морс си е музикален гений и без това - истинските ценители дори са готови да му простят религиозните забежки в текстовете! Чудя се откога споменаването на Бог в музиката се е превърнало в шантаво хоби, някъде след Бах и Хендел ще да е станало.

Както лесно може да се предположи, аз съм дълбоко несъгласна, че "the best bands are affiliated with Satan". Каня се от сто години да напиша кои от любимите ми банди демонстрират уклон към сатанизма (не са много и в по-голямата си част просто позират), но все не стигам дотам. Последно прочетох за Брус, че е написал сценария на филм за Алистър Кроули - интересът му към езотериката е очевиден в соловите му албуми, както и неприязънта към традиционното християнство. И докато сме на темата, барабанистът на Мейдън е християнин, както и Мъстейн от Мегадет (аз тях не ги слушам де, много са ми обществено-политически и трашърски), сигурно има и други. Но тези хора ме интересуват с музиката, която правят, а не с вероизповеданието, към което принадлежат. Хубаво е, когато човек мисли и се изразява метонимично, да е наясно, че го прави. Метонимията е фигура на речта, която замества целия обект с една от неговите части и именно нея използваме, когато наричаме някого "християнин", "меломан" и всичко останало. Сега, не коментирам за колко важна част от цялото иде реч:)

Anyway, music is best. Горната песен е от новия албум на Circus Maximus "Isolate".

The part I love about the band is that they also toss in just enough wankery to piss off the power cretins, enough basic melodic elements to piss off the prog snobs, and enough gayness to piss off everyone that only knows how to scream, “METALLLLLLLLLLLLLL!”

Цялото много кефещо ревю тук.

"Вярвай в камъни, но не ги хвърляй по мен"

Видеото е на арабски с английски субтитри. Как ме кефи този език... умирам за калиграфия от момента, в който открих, че съществува. Китайски и санскрит - които също харесвам - бледнеят пред арабския като визия, лично субективно мнение, моля не спорете:)

Сега накратко по темата. Психоложката Уафа Султан говори за исляма и за неговата нетърпимост към другите религии. Тя се самоопределя като "секуларен хуманист". Възхищавам й се за смелостта да се противопоставя така, но от друга страна не мога да не забележа изключително "американската" й реторика за "демокрация", "човешки права" и така нататък. Като един фен на "Хиляда и една нощ" и Великите могули, не приемам да ми се представя дихотомията "варварство - цивилизация" по този елементарен начин. Но жената е ъм, жена от арабски произход и мога да й простя, че се е набрала на исляма. Казва и някои интересни работи за евреите ^_^. Абе, който не е гледал, да гледа.

"I'm a secular human being, I don't believe in the supernatural, but I respect others' right to believe in it"
"Are you a heretic?"

Засега няма да кажа къде намерих това. Някой ден, ако остане време и имам муза, ще разкажа по-подробно:)

End of the World

take this pill, it will make you feel dizzy
and then give you wings

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved, as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
It is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.

Споменавала съм вероятно, че съм лош християнин? Че обичам повече себе си, отколкото ближния, че имам извънмерна склонност към сарказъм, че не мога да прощавам с години? Дори да не съм го споменавала, сигурно за по-прозорливите е очевидно;)

Сега гледам това стихче, публикувано и преди, и виждам точно обратното на всичко, за което се моли св. Франциск. Искам *мен* да ме утешават, разбират и обичат, искам да получавам, да бъда опростена... все нормални неща за "аз"-а, би казал човекът от 21 век. Предменструален синдром, би казало медицинското лице. "Прощават ти се греховете", би казал изповедникът.

Четейки за Doubt, Despair и Darkness, май е време да довърша тъй отдавна започнатия Sandman. Лошото е, че покрай това непушене не мога да изчета текст, по-дълъг от половин екран. Затова, няма нищо по-хубаво от музиката (и понякога текстовете):

In the autumn of my madness when my hair is turning grey
For the milk has finally curdled and I've nothing left to say
When all my thoughts are spoken (save my last departing birds)
Bring all my friends unto me and I'll strangle them with words

In the autumn of my madness which in coming won't be long
For the nights are now much darker and the daylights not so strong
And the things which I believed in are no longer quite enough
For the knowing is much harder and the going's getting rough

Sounds Good To Me

The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want;
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters;
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for His name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil;
for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life;
and I shall dwell in the house of the
Lord forever.

Psalm 23

Truth vs Beauty - The Inner Life of the Cell

This is not some puny science vs religion debate. This is an epitome of transcendence, and yet it is happening even at this very moment. This is the mystery of life, made even more magnificent by the art of the truth-seekers.

Just to live is holy. Just to be is a blessing. (Said Tim Hansel in a book I still quote.)

Enjoy. (I experienced connection problems during first viewing, the second was fine. Don't give up!)

Courtesy of AquilaX. (W's last.fm neighbor. Who said EICTE?:P)

An article on what is in the video here.

Where Angels Fear To Rant

And sometimes, only very rarely, a secretive feeling creeps in, that this is the moment I was made for, that time collapses exclusively for me, to lift me up and show me infinity, and I understand the words of the poet: 'To see the world in a grain of sand...'

The place where I felt that was at the bedside of my kids. Watching sleep crawl under my son's eyelids, I barely sense the tingling in my bent legs. I sit on the floor next to his little bed, hold his hand (a ritual we introduced to prevent him from sucking his thumb, at least in bed), I look at the darkness, and talk to God. And I suspect He laughs at my plans.

Rada is asleep thirty seconds after I turn off the light, so I don't often watch her. Mihail, however needs reassurance to fall asleep. He sleeps with the mammoth in his bed, but he still wants me there. And he says, time and again: 'Mama, I love you SO much'. (He's been saying that several times a day for the past month, so I know he knows.) 'I love you too, son', I say, and I can't take my eyes off his face. He has an incredible face, whose expression can switch from childish to grownup in milliseconds. Sometimes he says: 'Mama, I let you go work now.' I say 'Thanks' and leave, either to work, or to play Guild Wars. (I haven't played GW for almost a month. Too many coincidences.)

I have nothing to do with my son's existence. I have everything to do with my son's existence. Children are a question mark to the statement of our own lives. They demand a definition of what it is to be human. There is no easy answer.

Today the Church celebrates the day of St Michael the Archangel, who is supposed to be the patron saint of both my kids. (Don't ask why Rada is included in the name list of celebrating folks, I have no clue, except that she has a special brother;) So I bought them a pair of swords. Mihail has been asking for a sword for ages, and was absolutely thrilled, he even said a little prayer of thankfulness in bed. Rada made a wonderful allusion to 'Finding Nemo':

'I love fighting with a sword. It runs in my family.' (In Bulgarian: "Обичам да се бия с меч. Семейна обремененост." Наистина така е преведено във филма.)

How could I miss an EICTE moment?

"In art St. Michael is represented as an angelic warrior, fully armed with helmet, sword, and shield (often the shield bears the Latin inscription: Quis ut Deus)"
_ _
On a completely unrelated note, today is the day I learned something which made me remember the words of a wise man: Fate is a canine. Once again, more slowly. Fate. Is. A. Canine.

I Told Him

I don't believe.

I Walk Beside You

Music: Dream Theater, Lyrics: John Petrucci

There's a story in your eyes
I can see the hurt behind your smile
For every sign I recognize
Another one escapes me

Let me know what plagues your mind
Let me be the one to know you best
Be the one to hold you up
When you feel like you're sinking

Tell me once again
What's beneath the pain you're feeling
Don't abandon me
Or think you can't be saved

I walk beside you
Wherever you are
Whatever it takes
No matter how far

Through all that may come
And all that may go
I walk beside you
I walk beside you

Summon up your ghosts for me
Rest your tired thoughts upon my hand
Step inside the sacred place
When all your dreams seem broken

Resonate inside this temple
Let me be the one who understands
Be the one to carry you
When you can walk no further

Tell me once again
What's below the surface bleeding
If you've lost your way
I will take you in

I walk beside you
Wherever you are
Whatever it takes
No matter how far

Through all that may come
And all that may go
I walk beside you
I walk beside you

Oh when everything is wrong
Oh when hopelessness surrounds you
Oh the sun will rise again
The tide you swim against will carry you back home
So don't give up
Don't give in

I walk beside you
Wherever you are
Whatever it takes
No matter how far

Through all that may come
And all that may go
I walk beside you
I walk beside you

Have You Ever Seen A Miracle...

... you couldn't doubt or imitate?

Kansas - Rainmaker

I prayed for the rain to end,
for a shiny ray of light.
It rained for a long long time.
Maybe someone, somewhere,
has been praying for rain?
And then reality cracked,
it happened.
Even more than I asked for,
a piece of gold-touched sunset.

It's been so long
since I moved a mountain.
Thank you.

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 vain
I 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;)

“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...

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 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.

Serenity Prayer (extended version)

The origins of Serenity Prayer seem to be unclear.

It became famous as theologian Reinhold Niebuhr used it in a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

The courage to change the things I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time,

Enjoying one moment at a time,

Accepting hardship as the pathway to peace.

Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it.

Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will.

That I may be reasonably happy in this life,

And supremely happy with Him forever in the next.

Amen.

And mentioning AA, I guess I should list the 12 steps, used also by other recovery programs, for example NA.

Twelve Steps

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol; that our lives had become unmanageable.
2. Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

The text of the 12 steps has often been modified to suit the needs of non-religious people^^.

Eternity Follows Me Everywhere

"Всяко добро даяние и всеки съвършен дар иде отгоре, слизайки от Отца на светлините, у Когото няма изменение, нито сянка от промяна."
Послание на ап. Йаков, 1:17

Изкуството е излишно по същия начин, както е излишно и човечеството.
Икю

Frost, Wynche, Firefox, Kant по темата

В дискусията се съсредоточихме върху аспекта на възприемане на изкуството, или, ако заимствам метафората на Wynche, на хранещия се, а не на готвача. По подразбиране става дума за класния готвач, който приготвя "гурме" кухня и за ценителите-консуматори, които се наслаждаваме на крайния продукт. Основна предпоставка беше необходимостта от разпознаване и положителна реакция на тази храна, в които се използват не само вкусовите рецептори, а и добре култивирания опит, съчетан с извънсетивно познание за начините за приготвяне на блюдото, мястото на това блюдо в културната история на кулинарството и правилните съставки (ех, тук се сетих за баницата Сюзерена и билката "галистомахче").

С пълно съзнание за условността на тази метафора приемам, че изкуството е "храна за душата", да ме прощават тези, които не вярват в съществуването й.
Кратка дефиниция на душа:

The animating and vital principle in humans, credited with the faculties of thought, action, and emotion and often conceived as an immaterial entity.

В тази дефиниция ми харесва едно, че е приложима както за душата в християнството, така и за примерно атмана (постоянното непроменимо "аз") в източните религии, и друго, че е над-емоционална и над-рационална, което дава възможност да избягаме от класификацията на възприемането на изкуството като "емоционално" или "рационално". Ще я разгледам като трикомпонентна цялост като всеки от компонентите играе роля във възприемането на произведението на изкуството.

1. Вечност.
2. Познание.
3. Наслада.

В Еклесиаст се казва "Положил е вечността в техните сърца". Човекът не може да приеме кратковременността на живота и съответно търси "вечни" стойности и произведения с дълготрайна ценност. Съзнанието си представя вечността като “много дълго време”, понеже не може да си представи нещо извън равнината на време-пространството. Когато говорим за “добро” изкуство, един от аргументите в негова полза е дълготрайността на въздействието му. Една гениална скулптура, картина, стихотворение или симфония оцелява след теста на времето и това е един от критериите за “обективно” качество на продукта.

Другото, което свързваме с “вечност”, е истинността, или правилното отразяване нещо същестуващо само по себе си без изкривяването на субективизма. Когато се стремим да покажем, че нещо е добро, ние твърдим, че то е добро “само по себе си”, а не защото случайно харесваме тази или онази подправка или съставка. Участниците в една от сбирките може би ще си спомнят как се поклонихме пред субективизма, възкликвайки “щом аз го слушам, значи е яко”;). Но всъщност искаме нещо “надличностно”, нещо наистина вярно. И тук идва малко отклонение за “споделеното харесване”. Когато други хора откриват ценността на нещо любимо, нашето "аз" откликва неудържимо радостно: “Какво? Нима и ти? Аз мислех, че съм единственият!” (К.С.Луис). Другите фенове на примерно Толкин, Аморфис и китайската храна в известен смисъл потвърждават (verify) нашата реакция. Групите по интереси са неизбежен и естествен фактор в търсенето на “the ultimate”. “Елате повече” като че ли отговаря на потребността да излезем извън себе-то в търсенето на обективност.

Познанието на произведенията на изкуството е компонентът, който най-лесно може да се квантифицира. Ние натрупваме знания за обектите и, разбира се, те променят нашето възприятие. Тук слагам рационалния елемент, който “дешифрира смисъла”, или Р2.1 от класификацията на Ffox. Анализът е необходим подход към всеки обект, включително произведение на изкуството, и не бива да се омаловажава. Натрупването на познания за света е неоспорима характеристика на човешкото същество и съществено пособие за формирането и изразяването на оценка. Още повече, с увеличаването на познанието в дадена област човек увеличава компетентността си не само на възприемател, но и на творец. Четейки рецепти за коктейли, примерно, аз ставам не само по-добър пияч на коктейли;) но и евентуално барман. Тук обаче има една уловка. В разговор с един художник за картинките на компютъра му, той каза, че е гледал толкова много картини, че вече не може да “хареса” нищо. Оценява майсторството на изпълнението, анализира картината и дотук. С други думи, стигнал е до степен на насищане на възприятието, когато реакция Р1 вече няма. Няма го “отзвука в душата”, за който говори Фрост. Напълно е възможно това да е само етап от еволюцията на общуването с изкуството, след който да настъпи синтез между спонтанната положителна емоция от срещата с нещо красиво и реакцията на “spotless mind”.

Последният компонент е така наречената наслада. Всъщност според упанишадите, “ананда” (bliss) е чистата радост, която постигаш от сливането на “сат” (eternity) и “чит” (knowledge). Аз бих я нарекла жаждата на душата за благия Бог, мъчително неудовлетворена през огромната част от времето. Както физически страдаме от глад (явно) и от ядене на Макдоналдс (не толкова явно:Р), така душата страда от липсата на добро, истинно и красиво. Стремежът към наслада се удовлетворява от изкуството и от религията, които впрочем се съгласихме, че са свързани, поне за примитивните умове;), рисуващи сакрални изображения по стените на пещерата и рецитиращи саги. За лишеното от религиозност съзнание изкуството остава единственият източник на този тип наслада. То е онзи досег с “отвъдното”, което задоволява неизказаната и трудно дефинируема потребност на всеки човек. Общуването с прекрасното ни прави “човеци” и ни дава един от смислите на това да живеем.

Моето схващане е, че всеки може да твори – едно от значенията на “образа и подобието” на Бога. Ние създаваме, защото сме създадени. Всеки от нас е разказ и има какво да допринесе в сагата на човечеството. Тънката червена нишка, свързваща всичко, което намираме за красиво, ни определя като личности, а ние сме личности, защото Творецът ни е личност, най-общо казано. Умът, емоциите и волята на индивида притежават уникалност, която ни прави суб-творци, по думите на Толкин. Коулридж пише за поета, но откъсът от Кублай Хан може да се приложи за всеки човек:

And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

С тази метафора за ядене и пиене, мисля, че кръгът се затвори:)

Season's Greetings

This is a unique period in my life. I am totally and utterly by myself, without (so far) the tiniest tinge of loneliness. It was marked by the first night ever without Mihail in the bedroom. The shock on entering the room at bedtime and seeing the empty cot was almost physical. It's been almost 22 months of constant bonding between mother and son, intensified, rather than weakened, by his time spent in the nursery. And now he's gone, so is his sister. Rada was 6 months younger when I first sent her to stay with grandparents. She calls me every day, sometimes twice in a day, to recount the highlights of her eventful life in Bourgas. I don't miss them that much, overall. Or do I?

The benefits of a kids-free life are numerous. I sleep in until noon, fix myself a breakfast-lunch hybrid about two hours later, and generally lazy around not doing much. I play loud music (Ayreon, Into the Electric Castle and Human Equation, and all of System of a Down, accompanied by a rare Tool, Wallflowers, or GomJabbar song), I don't do anything in a hurry, I don't plan things, I don't think of anything in particular. I got so carried away with relaxation, that I forgot to pay my Internet account, so I got stranded without any connection with the outside world:) At first I panicked at the gap in my life, as often happens when an addictive substance is withdrawn, but I got over it almost immediately, and quickly convinced myself that it is for the better. Now all prerequisites for the 3-day experiment at isolation are present.

Unbelievably, I sank into the depths of philosophy, reading After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory by Alasdair MacIntyre. In the beginning, he basically claims that we are living in a world whose moral framework is nothing but the debris of a catastrophic demise of the moral universe of our ancestors. In the first few chapters he talks about the moral premises of Kant and Kirkegaard, their similarity to and difference from earlier philosophers, as well as their foreshadowing our modernity. For him, these philosophers signify the failure of the Enlightenment Project, as he calls it. MacIntyre's object for attack is the so-called theory of emotivism, which he defines as a moral framework without any ultimate reference, in which any moral statement is only an expression of attitudes, emotions etc. I'm enjoying the book slowly, since I alternate it with a collection of articles entitled Desecularization of the World: Resurgent Religion and World Politics. Definitely an easier read than the other one. Also, I read The Superstition of Divorce by G.K. Chesterton, and found I agreed with almost everything he says;), probably with the exception of his emphasis on patriotism which I have always found an inexplicable sentiment, ever since I was a kid. Right now I do not plan re-marriage, so my Catholic-friendly 'self' can rest with clear conscience:)

Music and books are old (I almost wrote 'cold', Freudian slip of the finger) friends, but I've got a newcomer in my life which makes me smile at the mere thought of its presence. It's a computer game, an unlikely pastime, as all who know me even a little will concede. It's The Longest Journey, released in 1998, a very beautiful game, with a female protagonist called April Ryan. I am so immersed in playing, that I refused to go out for a drink, in total contradiction with all my promises that I'll go and paint the old town red :D The invitation, however, came from another gamer, who so obviously preferred World of Warcraft to my company, that I felt neither guilty, nor a freak for refusing him. This particular game which hooked me is, I am told, a quest, or a point and click adventure game. Either way, I begin to find parallels with my real life, as always happens with any fictional narrative I choose to internalize. Yesterday I had to go and feed a rabbit while his owners were away, and just parking outside their entrance, I found I had forgotten the key to their apartment, so I had to go back and get it. This example shows exactly how bad I am at my game:) The picture will become even clearer when I tell you that the same thing happened on the next day, only this time I had forgotten the whole bag with the keys, driving licence etc. I just need to concentrate more on inventory use, I know:)

Ontopic: We truly live in a post-Christian, post-religious society. Almost noone remembers the 'reason for the season', and although I understand this worldview, I don't want to be a part of it. I missed going to church and hearing "Glory to the Lord in the highest". All the talk is about peace and prosperity and good will on Earth, which is an example of how far interpretation can stray without context. Christianity has been reduced to an ideosyncratic attitude and somewhat deviant behavior. I don't practice Orthodoxy as much as I would like to, still, I do profess my faith in public, which tends to be embarrassing for others, not for me. (Nothing can embarrass me these days, have I become a complete and hard-hearted cynic? Here's a poem to contradict this statement, or maybe to enhance it?)

STORY
For us there are no certainties, no star
blazing our journey, no decisive dream
to reassure hurt hearts or warn us when
it's time to move. The shepherds, harassed men,
are given answers to the questions they
have never thought to ask. Told where to go
and what to look for. We try out our way
unlit with angels, wondering 'How far?"
Yet in the story we find who we are:
the baby is told nothing, left to grow
slowly to vision through the coloured scheme
of touch, taste, sound; by needing learns to pray,
and makes the way of the flesh, dark strategem
by which God is and offers all we know.
Jennifer Dines

I found this poem in a 1993 notebook of prayers and reflections, in my own handwriting;). I don't remember where the poem is from, I had totally forgotten it (as well as the notebook). Yet, it is an amazing message from me to me, doubly so when considering that at the time I was a die-hard, right-wing, born-again evangelical Christian. Not that I felt entirely comfortable in that guise, that's why I chose Orthodoxy about 2 years later.

I like to think that although I have changed a lot, I still want the same things for my soul, and I'm growing to vision. And God, He hasn't changed.
Happy Christmas, folks:)