I
am feeling greater and greater pressure to produce something, as my parents
come and then as Cathy's parents come.
All the letters to me as well, how's the writing, etc. I guess I will plug away at the old stuff and
see what becomes of my efforts.
Finished
Canto X of Purgatorio and struck by the lines:
My
eyes promptly toward him, for a strong
Desire
possessed them (it's the way I'm made)To see whate'er new thing might come along.
--
sounds like my wanderings!
10:20
p.m. Returned from Mozart's Mass by
London Festival Orchestra at King's College Chapel. We sat in the front of the church, in the
choir area, in fine old wood carved seats.
The orchestra was in the back, out of sight (we had the cheap seats),
though our immediate surroundings almost made up for not being able to see the
orchestra. At one point, at the end of
the Gloria, I feel asleep and, as I awoke, halfway between dreaming and waking,
for a moment I thought I was in a scene straight out of Dante, as Virgil and
Dante pass through the gates to Purgatory and hear the angels singing!
What
a terrific contrast to last week's performance by the McCapra Quartet in the
old Pembroke College library. The
surroundings in the library were intimate; indeed my view was directly to the
naked back of Ms. McCapra, as I watched her muscles move with her intense
involvement in her violin playing.
Tonight was intimate in a different way.
Since we couldn't see the orchestra, it was up to each person to do what
he will with it. I gazed all around at
the magnificent church architecture, the wood carvings, the ceiling fans, the
seats, the night-blackened stained glass windows. In the beginning of the concert I tried to
read Virgil, but after the first movement gave up totally to the music. I found it much more engaging, emotionally,
than usual for Mozart. To make
everything just right, at the beginning of the concert one of the supervising
ushers announced that the hostages Terry Waite and Terry Sutherland had been
freed and that the Mass was dedicated to them.
The group, not that large, gave a round of applause. The same announcement was made by the
conductor on the other side of the wood screen (on top of which is the organ),
when he came on to a larger round of happy applause.
After
the concert, we exited to find the streets all wet, not from a heavy rain, but
from one of those (seemingly typical) light rainfalls that doesn't seem to
really interfere with plans, but makes the streets so wonderfully reflective of
the night lights.
Idea
for essay: God in Las Vegas.
Tuesday
19 November. 9:30 a.m. It is a cold, windy, rainy morning and the
forecast is for more of the same today.
Cathy
reported a bit of local wisdom the other morning after her morning coffee with
Debbie: if there are a lot of red berries then the winter will be a harsh
one. There do seem to be a lot of red
berries. It is really quite lovely, all
the different kinds of berries; even the rose hips outside my window, on the
rose bushes, which have now lost their leaves.
In the front we have a small tree in flower! Does the tree think it's spring?
Yesterday
pushed through and read up to Canto X of Purgatorio, which I like better than
Inferno. Purgatorio seems more
philosophical, more relatable to my life than hell, though I saw myself in many
different levels of hell. In any event I
did not get much done yesterday besides Dante, though I did read up a little on
poetic meter and scanned ten of my poems in an effort to see which of them I
should pursue further. A bit surprised
yesterday to find I liked the older stuff (1986) more, but perhaps that is
simply because it seems fresher.
IDEA:
Without our familiarity with myths, we must turn to memory as a guide, as a
teacher, as proof of our own importance.
Myths: what great stories of explanation! So in memory we try to invent our own great
stories.
The
small space heater I bought now goes on and off all day to warm my feet and
legs.
Wednesday
20 November. 1:10 p.m. Purgatorio, Canto XXVII. Dante's dream of Leah and Rachel: active vs.
contemplative life. I find myself very
much involved in the contemplative life!
Thursday
21 November. 9:35 a.m. Foggy.
Tuesday we had the heat on all
day. Daily mass a couple of times. Picked up the children at 3 or so—school
traffic! Today, cleaning ladies first
visit. Sunrise: 7:30; sunset: 4:03.
I
have been thinking lately (and before), that I don't really know how to love
God. How can I relate to a Being which
is perfect, so far from me? Yet God
created each individual out of love for that individual. He is the source of all things. How can I fail to love such a giving Being?
Of
course, I am very grateful to God, thankful to Him for all He has given to
me. But is that the same as love? If not, do thankfulness and appreciation lead
to love? Can they ever lead to love, or
is one left with appreciation? If I were
to merit Paradise, I would surely be on a very low level, never having learned
to really and truly love God.
Perhaps my problem is that I do not really believe God did all this, i.e., in Dante's language, I love a tree (secondary thing) because it is a thing of natural beauty and not because it is God's creation. If I really thought that God was the artist how could I help but love the originator of such art/handiwork?
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