we call this Friday good...

The sky is overcast, the weather cold, and a decade of Catholicism still makes me want to be in settings of candlelight and arched ceilings getting meditative and such on days like these, because part of my rhythm is still in tune with a liturgical calendar, though like a Christmas & Easter celebrant, I gave up nothing for Lent and forgot that most Good Friday services are happening right now as opposed to when I get off of work.

"You look like you're in the spirit of the day" someone says, and I guess I do with the black dress-as-tunic, the probably-too-dangly-for-work cross earrings found at a yard sale, but I've been laughing too much to give off any air of gothicity, thanks to Kynge's Brew and the inside jokerye of the peonage. Even in my darkest nights of the soul, there is still a sense of light and hope that sustains me through the many times where things seem too bleak and sucky to keep on living.




O how great is the kindness of the
Savior,
who sets all free
through His incarnation
which divinity breathed out,
unbound by sin.
And thus those garments
are cleansed
by the greatest grief.



Reposted as appropriate. Eliot once more...

The wounded surgeon plies the steel
That questions the distempered part;
Beneath the bleeding hands we feel
The sharp compassion of the healer's art
Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.

Our only health is the disease
If we obey the dying nurse
Whose constant care is not to please
But to remind of our, and Adam's curse,
And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.

The whole earth is our hospital
Endowed by the ruined millionaire,
Wherein, if we do well, we shall
Die of the absolute paternal care
That will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere.

The chill ascends from feet to knees,
The fever sings in mental wires.
If to be warmed, then I must freeze
And quake in frigid purgatorial fires
Of which the flame is roses, and the smoke is briars.

The dripping blood our only drink,
The bloody flesh our only food:
In spite of which we like to think
That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood -
Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.

springwinter

I'm loving the sun pouring through the window behind me, knowing that in another week, we will be plunged back into cold once more. My neighborhood doesn't lend itself well to walk alone at daybreak without a canine companion, so last night I went to my old haunts in Lakewood Park, to walk down the path to the jettys below, where the ice stretches out as far as I can see, with the glittering skyline to the east, and where the west is brilliantly pink fading into lavender and blue.

I soak in the stark scenery of bare white birch trees, the dark filigree of vines, the deep blue sky, the frozen waves. The night falls quickly, but there's enough people out enjoying the thaw that I can be alone with my thoughts and with God.

It's been a good week and I'm looking forward to a weekend of creating, adventures with good people, a whole lot of new tuneage, and enjoying a respite from the chill. Despite the craziness of this world that makes me wish sometimes I could disappear onto an island somewhere, I am thankful beyond words for these things.



And this is the most gorgeous minute and a half of guitar work ever. Even though he's a bit crazy, I love John Frusciante.

week end.

So the first week of the new year ends with a sense of hope, even though I have no clue what the future holds and after the absurdity of the past 3 years of joy, depression, laughter and constant misadventure, I have just accepted that God with His infinite sense of humor has plenty more curveballs coming my way.

It looks like I'll be employed a little longer, and it makes the daily grind seem almost like a beautiful thing, though having coworkers that I actually enjoy, non-soul-stealing work to do, not having to wear a power suit, and lunch breaks replete with free classes, food and good music that I missed the first time around.

Looking forward to a weekend of unknown factors, except that I get to celebrate Ethiopian Christmas on Sunday, which I'm looking forward to immensely.

Where I'll be hanging out, there's at least three cultural groups represented there... Amhara, Tigrey, Oromo, two countries at political odds with each other. It seems like everyone has stories about getting beaten up by police, spending time in prison under dictatorship, their relatives jailed or stoned to death in villages.

The language isn't that far removed from Aramaic, the music is hypnotic and beautiful and I get this sense of ancientness and timelessness that's incredible. I wish I understood Amharic so I could understand the sermons, though people do translate for me and I'm grateful for it.



All the talking heads on TV who talk about 'The War on Christmas' don't have to worry about, well, getting blown up while attempting to worship together.
Stories like these are rare but they give me something resembling hope.

It's very easy to get Americentric when it comes to Christianity, to frame everything in partisan terms related to political parties and schools of thoughts, when there's a whole lot of other believers all over the world who have way bigger things to worry about and history way older than ours who see things very differently. .



I don't bother with New Year's resolutions anymore because I start a lot of things I can't finish, but if all goes well I'll be adventuring in Boston a few days in the week before Easter (already have tickets and a fellow traveler), and hopefully road tripping to Buffalo for a few days when the snow melts to visit people I enjoy way too much to only see them once a year.

I've also got a nephew on the way in about 4 months, which is so crazy to think about. With my sister's blessing, I bought him an awesomely illustrated hardback version of Charles & Mary Lamb's Shakespeare stories even though he's still in utero and won't appreciate it for another ten years at least. He's got a pair of brilliant and wonderful parents who aren't going to give their kids annoying toys that make noise and have batteries and hopefully I will play the part of Lovable Eccentric Auntie well.

And the creative juices have been flowing, and I just have to go with it when it's like that, whether it's concocting color schemes with glaze and experimenting with form, goofy Photoshop shenanigans, the endless possibilities of printmaking, or collages that mix together my twin obsessions of early Christian and medieval art and abstracted graffiti forms.

The pigeons have been making their presence (no pun intended) known and we've been enjoying the comedy of nature vs the urban landscape. Mad props to the good people of Adobe for making entertainment possible.



Have a good weekend, everyone.

what is meant to be will be...

Ten minutes left before the weekend and the commencement of Cleveland-ish adventures and I'm finally feeling a bit more hopeful. Going out on more photography/Cleveland adventures tonight, my cousins are coming in tomorrow for birthday festivities and such, and hopefully everything else calms down eventually.

I will continue to be challenged to life in peace, and grow in patience and love even when things really suck. Life goes on, and I've got the sweet and strong voice of Lauryn before she disappeared to soundtrack me through all of this...



Everything Is Everything
What is meant to be, will be
After winter, must come spring
Change, it comes eventually

raindrops and sunshowers

Things are still crazy in this city, but this week, my soul has been restored.

Between playing music and sharing meals with good people, taking a night off to paint and collage, actually seeing the sun for a week straight, processing through the grief and realizing that there is still hope.

And I'm super excited about going to DC next weekend for pre-Thanksgiving feasting and revelry with some of the only people that are still worth hanging out with post-college.

Also, this is beautiful. I've been listening to it all week.