Author: admin

  • Wattage

    Now shall my inward joys arise,

    And burst into a Song;

    Almighty Love inspires my Heart,

    And Pleasure tunes my Tongue.

    God on his thirsty Sion-Hill

    Some Mercy-Drops has thrown,

    And solemn Oaths have bound his Love

    To show’r Salvation down.

    Why do we then indulge our Fears,

    Suspicions and Complaints?

    Is he a God, and shall his Grace

    Grow weary of his saints?

    Isaac Watts
  • Writing in a Jumble

    Writing has a tendency to clarify my thoughts on a subject. Yet it does so only after throwing my thoughts into chaos. Two things seem to be happening. In the first place, my mind, as I begin to compose, begins to make all sorts of connections that it has never made before. In the second place, I find that the way I express myself makes far less sense on the page than it did in my mind. Or rather, I find myself with the links and connections that had seemed to make sense suddenly seeming to have very little weight. 

    The movement into greater clarity through writing is hard fought. 

    Clarity is gained first through a kind of disciplined focus that respects and values the new connections that seem to burst forth in writing and yet also knows how to put those new connections to the side. The goal is clarity about the topic itself. 

    Clarity is gained in the second and harder place by that self-knowledge that is able to admit how little I know, and how many were the platitudes that seemed so powerful. It is this second movement that is also the profound spiritual movement of leaning into the darkness. There is a kind of human and intellectual trust that says that the darkness is a place of fruitfulness and not a place of death. This is an important, if feeble imitation of the great active and passive nights of the senses and of the spirit, which are such a part of the spiritual journey.

  • Problem II

    — no matter what we do

    the machines

    just move the hunger two flights higher,

    now it rests in the heart.

    Rolf Jacobsen (1975) Trans. Roger Greenwald, h/t Pome by Matthew Ogle
  • …put down that gun, you need a sandwich.

    Mary Karr, “The Voice of God”
  • All night the truth happens.

    Michael Ondaatje (1974), from “Country Night” h/t Pome By Matthew Ogle

  • There are no unsacred places; 

    there are only sacred places

    and desecrated places.

    Wendell Berry, “How to be a Poet”
  • οἱ γὰρ ἄνθρωποι πρὸς ἃ ἔπασχον τὴν μνήμην ἐποιοῦντο.

    Thucydides, 2.54.