To fall in love with God is the greatest of all romances;
to seek Him, the greatest adventure;
to find Him, the greatest human achievement.

Saint Augustine

Saturday, December 25, 2010

We join in the singing of all the centuries

Hello, everyone! It's early on Christmas morning, and I should be in bed! Went to a lovely Midnight Mass tonight to welcome our Saviour into the world. Rejoice! Our King has come!

He whom the entire universe could not contain was contained within your womb, O Theotokos.

Madonna of the Rose Bower, by Stefan Lochner, circa 1440-42

Before I go to bed, I'd like to offer for your Christmas reading our dear Pope Benedict's Midnight Mass homily for this year. The full text can be found here. It is truly excellent, and I highly recommend you to read it!

An excerpt: (so hard to pick what to quote!)

Saint Luke does not say that the angels sang. He states quite soberly: the heavenly host praised God and said: “Glory to God in the highest” (Lk 2:13f.). But men have always known that the speech of angels is different from human speech, and that above all on this night of joyful proclamation it was in song that they extolled God’s heavenly glory. So this angelic song has been recognized from the earliest days as music proceeding from God, indeed, as an invitation to join in the singing with hearts filled with joy at the fact that we are loved by God. Cantare amantis est, says Saint Augustine: singing belongs to one who loves. Thus, down the centuries, the angels’ song has again and again become a song of love and joy, a song of those who love. At this hour, full of thankfulness, we join in the singing of all the centuries, singing that unites heaven and earth, angels and men. Yes, indeed, we praise You for Your glory. We praise You for Your love. Grant that we may join with You in love more and more, and thus become people of peace. Amen.




*Theotokos is Greek for "God-bearer," the first and foremost title for Mary. Essentially equivalent to the Latin title of Mater Dei -- Mother of God.

Friday, December 24, 2010

The Tree of Life my soul hath seen

This is one of my most favorite songs ever, and one of my favorite "Christmas" songs. It's not really a Christmas song per se, but it tends to be performed around this time of year. :) I added a video of it being sung at the bottom of the post, so you can follow along with the words.
I hope it moves you as much as it does me -- it often brings me to tears.


Jesus Christ the Apple Tree, circa 1784, New England area

The tree of life my soul hath seen,
Laden with fruit and always green:
The trees of nature fruitless be
Compared with Christ the Apple Tree.

His beauty doth all things excel:
By faith I know, but ne'er can tell
The glory which I now can see
In Jesus Christ the Apple Tree.

For happiness I long have sought,
And pleasure dearly I have bought:
I missed of all; but now I see
'Tis found in Christ the Apple Tree.

I'm weary with my former toil,
Here I will sit and rest awhile:
Under the shadow I will be,
Of Jesus Christ the Apple Tree.

This fruit doth make my soul to thrive,
It keeps my dying faith alive;
Which makes my soul in haste to be
With Jesus Christ the Apple Tree.



Choir of King's College, Cambridge
(video from about 1993, so excuse the dated look)

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Did we forget what it means to be human?

By some stroke of luck, I managed to win a free DVD of The Human Experience, by Grassroots Films. It was being offered through the Catholic young women's magazine Radiant. :)

The contest only required you to watch the trailer and post your response/thoughts on Radiant's Facebook wall. I caught the giveaway in the nick of time (last day)....and won!!! Still can't believe it. Well, I got the DVD in the mail today! So excited to FINALLY be able to watch it. I have known about this film since around 2008. Just the trailer alone has the ability to make me cry. SO beautiful. It has won over 30 awards and film festival honors. Over 30!! And because of that, and because I think more people should know about this film and watch it, etc-- I am sharing the trailer with you. There's actually two of them. I will share the longer, "main" trailer first. ^_^ Please tell me your thoughts on it!



And here is the teaser-trailer, also beautiful and has different footage from the longer one. :)


Monday, December 13, 2010

Christmas Novena to End Abortion (Please join us!)

Hello, all!

A pro-life friend of mine has started a 'project' gathering as many people together to pray a Christmas novena for an end to abortion. It would begin on the 16th. Currently the goal is for 500 novenas, with a potential goal of 1000 if we get enough people interested.

He describes the novena intention thus:

Let’s pray for all expectant mothers that they will respect and cherish the life they carry like Mary did, and for fathers that they may support the mother as St. Joseph supported Mary.

For those who don't know what a novena is, it is nine days set aside for a special or particular prayer intention. (the word 'novena' coming from the Latin for nine) Here is a little history behind the custom.

He has set up an email list on the website you can subscribe to so you can get daily reminders to pray the novena in your inbox. :)

There is also a Facebook event for it you can join. :)

Blessings to all, please pass the word around! And please sign up! It won't be very hard to do, trust me, and it's for a good cause!

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Am I not here, who am your Mother?


Today is the feast day of Our Lady of Guadalupe! If you are unfamiliar with the story, here you can read an English translation of the earliest, original account (that was written in the Aztec language!) of the apparitions that took place in 1531. Also, here is another link relating the story.

Our Lady of Guadalupe was the first "title" and apparition of Our Lady that I learned of when I was little. When I say 'apparition,' I mean 'appearance', more or less. That is, one of the many occasions she has visited the world to try and bring us back to her Son. Accounts of these visits date back to the first few centuries A.D. However, the "big" apparitions, the ones beyond a private visit like many saints and mystics received, the ones where she beseeches us to repent, to sin no more, and turn back to God, etc, it would seem all of them have taken place beginning in the late Middle Ages or so and experiencing more with the Renaissance on. The late 19th-20th centuries have been called a "Marian Age" precisely because the world has experienced an unprecedented number in a short space of time; this can be viewed as a blessing, which it is, and also as a sobering reminder of the direction the world is taking. Repentance and prayer, for renewal of faith, are the common themes. We must amend our lives.

Yes, it was Guadalupe first I learned about, through the children's television show Wishbone, no less! I don't recall the "real-life" storyline of the show (they always tied whatever was going on in Wishbone's family's life into whatever story/book/literature/legend they were depicting), but I remember a Hispanic man sat down with Joe (Wishbone's human) and told him the story of Our Lady of Guadalupe, which then got told to us like a mini movie with Wishbone the dog portraying St. Juan Diego, lol. Thereafter, I would recognize the image, and be happy to see it, usually in Mexican restaurants. :) I don't think I fully grasped the fact that this Mary was also the very same Mary of Christmas songs, Nativity sets, etc...my young mind didn't quite go that far yet. Even though I knew she was "Mary," it just didn't totally click! We didn't talk much about her at the church we went to, and I always wondered about that. I distinctly remember asking my mother one day "Why don't we talk about Mary very much?" I wanted so much to know more. Funny that it never occurred to me to look up books, or even online, once that became common. It wasn't until we were looking into the Catholic faith that I learned more, and suddenly realized the Mother I had long sought was Mary!

Mary was always there in some small way in my life, little "signposts" and hints along the way, if you will, to something more. I should make a list of all the ways... :P

And then at long last she brought me to her Son's Church, the Church He founded on this Earth for the salvation of mankind, for the "keeping of His sheep," and ministering to His flock. <3

Know for certain that I am the perfect and perpetual Virgin Mary, Mother of the True God. I am your merciful Mother, the Mother of all who love me, of those who cry to me, of those who have confidence in me. Do not be troubled or weighed down with grief. Do not fear any illness or vexation, anxiety or pain. Am I not here, who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection, in the folds of my mantle and the crossing of my arms? What more could you need?

~ words of Our Lady to St. Juan Diego
Here is a newsletter from Monastery Icons containing lots of fascinating information on the unexplainable-to-science tilma upon which is the miraculous image! It is truly wonderful to learn about, so please do read! :)

And lastly, here is a beautiful reflection on today and Our Lady from Fr. Mark at Vultus Christi.

An excerpt:

And so there was music for the ear and the vision for the eye. The plan of God revealed in the enfleshment of his Word is that all things created should be restored to holiness, and that our physical senses themselves should be graced and opened to the mysteries of God. "The flesh," said Tertullian, "is the hinge of salvation." The Virgin chose two other signs before giving that of her miraculous image. The first involves touch. She touched Juan Diego. With an exquisitely maternal tenderness, she arranged roses, marvelous roses picked on a bare and windy hillside in December, in his cloak. The second sign concerns the roses themselves; they were fragrant. They must have been to Juan Diego like this second great feast of the Virgin in December is to us -- surprising like roses blooming in the snow. The third sign is the image, a portrait that is radiantly beautiful. A piece of heaven printed on the poor cloak of a poor man. It is this image that continues to surprise us, to delight us, to be for us a kind of visitation of the Mother of the Lord.

Blessed feastday to all!

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Diving into Freedom

I just stumbled across this absolutely wonderful reflection from the Sisters of Life, and I would like to share it with all of you! Please feel free to pass it along to others, its message is so badly needed in this day and age.

An excerpt:
You are made in the image and likeness of God, springing forth from the heart of the Trinity. You are made in the image of Christ. You reflect a unique aspect of the FACE of GOD that no one before you or after you will ever bear. You are unrepeatable, precious, and sacred. God loved and willed you into existence, and it is His personal, intimate, passionate love for you right now, that is holding you in being. If God stopped loving you for a split nanosecond, not only would you cease to exist, but it would be as if you never were. Our hearts were created by God and for God, and nothing less than the Infinite One can satisfy us. Only friendship with God can satisfy the deepest longings for freedom and love in our hearts.


Read the whole thing here!

Saturday, November 6, 2010

I can't take it in. (It couldn't be anymore beautiful.)

So.....yes, I know it's been months since last I posted. :/ I've just gotten busy, and yes, a lot has happened. Switchfoot concert, school (which, btw, is more than halfway through 1st semester already), so many feast days, my 20th birthday, the list goes on.... sigh.

Anyway, my apologies, I do have a very long post for you today, consisting entirely of writing. :P

I wrote it in the wee hours of the morning on Saturday, which I guess is still today, lol. I first posted it on Facebook, so for those of you who'd rather comment there, feel free. :) Thank you to everyone who has already commented there. Here goes....
_________________________

I want to live.

I mean live.

I am so tired of most of my dearest friends being so far away from me, with the only means of contact being chiefly the computer I am currently writing on. Yes, there are physical letters and phone calls, a step in the right direction, to be sure...and perhaps if I were more faithful in my letter-writing (ahem) I would find more solace in their tangibility, as with hearing your sweet voices.

But I am so tired of not living.

I want to love my friends (and family) in the here and now, in flesh and blood, with eyes to look into, hands to hold, voices to hear, presences to surround me.

I want to... get physical. Seriously - I want to get off this accursed machine and live life out in God's glorious Creation, so why does He have to keep blessing me so darn much with the internet? As much as it can be a problem....I have been so, so blessed through it. And even that is an understatement. Words could not even begin to express all that has been given me through this strange thing called the Internet. I have grown by leaps and bounds, I have become more me, I have laughed, loved, cried, learned, pondered...

So much music. So much that I have read, and grown by. So many friends!! And practically all I know (and love) about my Faith. I could go on forever. In so many ways, this truly is a miracle. And yet....

Curse it all, I want to live! I want to get my hands dirty in the wet spring earth, like Mary, Colin, and Dickon in the garden. I want to sew and sew all the clothes I drool over, feeling all the lush fabrics run through my fingers. I want to feel bread dough between my fingers, sticky-soft, while I knead, push, pull. I want to feel grass beneath my feet. Wind in my hair. I want to feel the rain on my skin, snow on my tongue. I want to feel fire's flickering heat. I want to marvel at rainbows and moonbows, to gaze up at the starry night sky. I want to dwell in blessed solitude, I want to dwell in communion with humanity. I want to be flesh and blood, because that is what I am. A flesh-and-blood, heart-and-soul human being. And I want to live. I want to be vibrantly, painfully alive.

I am tired of feeling apathetic and numb to things I should care about. I want to feel deeply. I want to look upon my Lord on the Cross, and weep. I want to be profoundly moved at Holy Mass; I want to be simply graced at Holy Mass. I want to love even when I don't feel.

I want to bless each and every thing.

I want a flesh and blood man to love, a man of God who will cherish me for all his days, and lay down his life for me. I want to be his soulmate and his helpmate, and he mine.

I want to labor in all the earthy physicality of bearing children, of giving birth to new life. I want to scream in agony and then experience the euphoria of holding my baby in my arms for the first time, forgetting any pain.

I want to journey through the precious, most beautiful, most noble task that is teaching Truth to new human beings. Of passing on the beauty of life to my children. Of teaching them to love and serve God.

I want to exult in all that is the messy, beautiful, glorious, painful thing we call Life.

I want to cry. I want to laugh. I want to sing. I want to dance. I want to write. I want to create. I want to pray. I want to love.

I want to live.

How can I divorce myself from all the queer artificiality that is this online world that has nevertheless enriched me so much? I will never be able to bring all my friends together in one place. Sometimes I feel so confused and conflicted....

And yet, for all this longing for Life, I know in my heart I will never receive it fully. Not yet. Not in this life.

And that....that is perhaps the bitterest chalice for me to drink from. For I long for nothing less than to be fully aware of life while I am living it. But as human beings, fallen, broken, imperfect, incomplete -- we cannot yet have this. Only in glimpses, tantalizing flashes, the briefest of tastes.

And I weep.

Essentially, I am longing for Heaven, for complete and utter communion, union, and life with and in God. I long to dwell in the Eternal Present with God.

We cannot be so aware all the time. It is humanly impossible. And I am learning to accept this. That all I long for, all that I have said, and all that I have not said here, is only to be found in its completion in the next life, when at last we will begin to fully live. "I don't belong here..." I am learning to drink to the dregs this bitter cup of Not Yet.

"God is at home," says Meister Eckhart, "We are in the far country."


From Thornton Wilder's play 'Our Town':

Emily: Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it -- every, every minute?

Stage Manager: No.

Saints and poets, maybe -- they do some.


My mother says it is the poet in me - the artist - that experiences those moments where I feel removed from whatever is happening, almost as if I were "watching" it, but not quite...I am still there, in the moment, but my awareness is elsewhere....it is my human limitations that prevent me from being both in that elsewhere, observing and seeing it in the context of Time, etc, but also being fully in the moment, living it...

I have encountered confusion from some people when I say things like "Every joyful moment is bittersweet."

But it is. Every joy, every beauty, is bittersweet.

Sweet, for obvious reasons.

Bitter, because it will end, and not return. Time, that horrid Thief, the clock keeps ticking...yet it is that same Time that gives the urgency to our lives. It will not last. "Life is short. Like a gunshot, and it's over. Live it well."

I am reminded specifically of choir concerts in high school -- how it was thrilling and wondrous to be in the moment, singing those glorious songs, to be "one" -- if but for a little while. Yet, once that concert was over, that moment could never come back. That time had passed. It was gone. It cannot be repeated. Bitter, and sweet, at the same time.

That is how I experience every joy. With the confounded awareness of how fleeting it all is.

And then, just as quickly as I enter that stream of awareness, I slip back into taking it all for granted again.

"They do some."

Sometimes I really hate it, as it prevents me from ever feeling just in the moment without going off into Elsewhere Awareness of the moment. It is a gift, but I must learn how to "wield" it. I need to learn how to channel it properly, so that it does not take away from life's dear moments, but only enriches my life. Oh, God, how can I temper this??

Ahhhh, life is truly bittersweet! I rejoice to know that "Nothing of what is is lost. It is not lost to God, nor to us."

And so, part of being gifted with this poet's soul are these little glimpses into truly living, of being truly aware. Of all the pain, and all the beauty, of all the terrible brevity of life on earth. I have moments where I feel connected to all that lives, to God within and without...and then, it is gone. Oh, must You torment me so? What a cross to bear.

And not just to bear, but to be crucified with.

More and more, I am seeing that God is guiding me to trust in Him, to release my attachments to the earthly things I love, that while good and worthy, are not the Ultimate Good, and will not last, nor could they ever be my Anchor in such a chaotic world. And so He wrests from my embrace dear friends, beloved animal family members, beloved teachers.....and not without kicking and screaming and crying on my part. What will it take for me to trust in You, and You alone? Oh, how far I have to go...

Emily:

I can't. I can't go on. It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another.

I didn't realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed. Take me back---up the hill---to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look.

Good-bye, Good-bye world. Good-bye, Grover's Corners ... Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking ... and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths ... and sleeping and waking up. Oh, Earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you!

Oh, God, that just hurts for me to read, and makes me want to cry. An exquisite sort of pain that both wounds and heals.

I have already written about this before, using these same Our Town quotes. I keep coming back to this in my heart. Over and over again. Will it always be so?

I am still learning. I am still growing. I am still fighting - both against all that keeps me from God, and even, in my sinfulness, against God Himself. I am a mixture of light and dark. I am a seed in the dark earth fighting her way to the light, yearning to unfurl her leaves and blossom. I am a caterpillar stuck in her chrysalis, waiting, waiting, waiting for when she will be ready to burst forth with wet wings, ready to fly. I am a baby in darkened womb, growing, becoming, totally unaware of how, when I get too big for that space, I will have to go through a painful birth into the light...

In spite of the fact that I will never attain to all that I long for in this life, no matter that it will always come intermittently, and has to be learned, cultivated: I will live. With baby steps, unsure and wobbly, I will learn to walk into my Father's arms. I will learn to let Him carry me, and not have to "do it all myself." I will trust - and not worry myself to literal death. I will bury my face in my Mother's sweet, starry Mantle, and hear her Heart beat the rhythm of love to me...the same melody that sounds from my Beloved's Sacred Heart, the Song of salvation. I will learn to let Him kiss me, to let Him love me, and not run away like some frightened creature. No - He is Love itself, what have I to fear? The utter assimilation of all that I am into Himself? Of being nailed to the Cross with Him, dying? -- but then rising with Him to all life and light? Oh, fickle heart of mine, when will you learn to love?!


I will do all I can to live. I will live in graced moments. I will praise God in times of sorrow and times of joy. I will adore Him in each season. I will take baby steps to living out the theology of the body in my each and every day - in relation to other human beings, to the Earth, and to my God. To live and love in my body and in my soul.

I will learn to unite my eros with God's agape, and thus love with a fuller love than either alone could be for me, to love with a love akin to God's passionate selfless love.

First, there is a certain relationship between love and the Divine: love promises infinity, eternity—a reality far greater and totally other than our everyday existence. Yet we have also seen that the way to attain this goal is not simply by submitting to instinct. Purification and growth in maturity are called for; and these also pass through the path of renunciation. Far from rejecting or “poisoning” eros, they heal it and restore its true grandeur.

This is due first and foremost to the fact that man is a being made up of body and soul. Man is truly himself when his body and soul are intimately united; the challenge of eros can be said to be truly overcome when this unification is achieved. Should he aspire to be pure spirit and to reject the flesh as pertaining to his animal nature alone, then spirit and body would both lose their dignity. On the other hand, should he deny the spirit and consider matter, the body, as the only reality, he would likewise lose his greatness. The epicure Gassendi used to offer Descartes the humorous greeting: “O Soul!” And Descartes would reply: “O Flesh!”. Yet it is neither the spirit alone nor the body alone that loves: it is man, the person, a unified creature composed of body and soul, who loves. Only when both dimensions are truly united, does man attain his full stature. Only thus is love —eros—able to mature and attain its authentic grandeur.

-- from Pope Benedict's encyclical, Deus Caritas Est

I will learn to let go ("Daisy, let it go..." ) all of the passing things of this life, no matter how lovely. And then I will finally be able to truly appreciate them.

And so, too, as regards this world, with all its enjoyments, yet disappointments. Let us not trust it; let us not give our hearts to it; let us not begin with it. Let us begin with faith; let us begin with Christ; let us begin with His Cross and the humiliation to which it leads. Let us first be drawn to Him who is lifted up, that so He may, with Himself, freely give us all things. Let us “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” and then all those things of this world “will be added to us.” They alone are able truly to enjoy this world, who begin with the world unseen. They alone enjoy it, who have first abstained from it. They alone can truly feast, who have first fasted; they alone are able to use the world, who have learned not to abuse it; they alone inherit it, who take it as a shadow of the world to come, and who for that world to come relinquish it.

--- Blessed John Henry Cardinal Newman

I will learn to not loathe myself for all my shortcomings, to not look upon myself with hatred for all my failings, sins, and weaknesses. I will learn to rush to the fount of God's mercy. I will learn to pick myself up off the floor, or at least start to and let Him lift me. I will learn to let the fire of His love burn away all the dross from my soul. I will learn to let Him rip my dragon-scales off me. I will learn to let Him, Lion of Judah, lick me clean.

My task is learning how to live. And learning how to die. If we learn how to die, we learn how to live.

I want to burn out bright. I want to suck all the marrow out of life. I want to reach my deathbed with every drop of life and love poured out of me. Oh, God, I want to love! I want to live. And so teach me to die with You. Hide me in Your wounds.

Guide me on the way of love. Let me not run from love any longer, and all it asks of me - self-denial, temperance, trust, courage, sacrifice, self-donation.

I want to love. I want to live.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken," said C.S. Lewis.

And so I set about preparing the ground of my soul to be (not so easily) broken, that love may grow and take root there.

Life is so short, live it well. I ask you to join me, as we step into the great Unknown and live life, as much as we can, in all our flesh-and-blood-and-heart-and-soul-ness. I refuse to be swept away by the floods of Nothingness and No-thing. I will dare to dwell in the mystery and the darkness and the pain and light-haunted shadows, and dare to dance all aflame with God's love in the vibrant and colorful, mere shadows-of-the-world-to-come, exhilarating, aching, weary, quiet, loud, everyday, ordinary, extraordinary Life.



Thursday, August 5, 2010

All our life is a journey toward God

Hi, everyone. :) Yes, I know it's been over a month since I posted anything here. I'm sorry about that. :/ It's not that I had nothing to share or write about, just that I sort of ...didn't. I don't know. xD Lack of time and motivation, perhaps. But now I'm back. I will try to keep up!

Anyway, I've been wanting to share this for a while now, and I think it's high time I do! Back in February, the Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist, an order of nuns in Ann Arbor, Michigan, were featured on Oprah! Shocking, I know. ;) I think it was a lovely show, and so very much needed in this day and age. Many of the questions that were asked I think just reflect the common ideas and misconceptions and fears and "important" things of today's world. So it's good they were answered. Answers are needed, and here they were given. :)

I am not much of an Oprah person myself, but I think she was really touched by the sisters' visit. Both she and Lisa seemed amazed at what they learned! No, nuns are not stuffy and lifeless non-humans. xD I greatly admire nuns like these and if I were called to be one, I would certainly follow God's call. (Oh, and FYI- a full habit is a must for me. No silly "religious pins" on street clothes. Either be a nun and be unafraid to proclaim the fact you are a bride of Christ to the world, or don't. No mushy in-between, please. Also of interest is the fact that the orders who do wear full habits are experiencing great growth, mostly young (the sisters' ages), and are thriving. The ones who don't are aging and rapidly ceasing to exist.)

I also must add that I am friends with a girl who is discerning a vocation with these sisters. :) Which I think is very cool! She just finished her sophomore year of college and has chosen to drop out, working for a year, then entering as a postulant. :) Please keep her in your prayers.

Without further ado, the videos:

(Please take the time to watch all four segments. They are not very long at all and well worth your time. Also, sorry for the few places the quality messes up, not sure why it does that.)

Part One
To view Part One, click here. I'm sorry for the trouble!

It seems Harpo (Oprah's company) removed this video from Youtube. I'm keeping the dead link here for proof, lol.
Parts 2, 3, 4 that I posted are still working. :)


Part Two


Part Three


Part Four

Monday, June 14, 2010

As warm as tears

Love's as warm as tears,
Love is tears:
Pressure within the brain,
Tension at the throat,
Deluge, weeks of rain,
Haystacks afloat,
Featureless seas between
Hedges, where once was green.

Love's as fierce as fire,
Love is fire:
All sorts--infernal heat
Clinkered with greed and pride,
Lyric desire, sharp-sweet,
Laughing, even when denied,
And that empyreal flame
Whence all loves came.

Love's as fresh as spring,
Love is spring:
Bird-song hung in the air,
Cool smells in a wood,
Whispering 'Dare! Dare!'
To sap, to blood,
Telling 'Ease, safety, rest,
Are good; not best.'

Love's as hard as nails,
Love is nails:
Blunt, thick, hammered through
The medial nerves of One
Who, having made us, knew
The thing He had done,
seeing (with all that is)
Our cross, and His.

~C.S. Lewis, Poems, (1964)

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Wow...

This commercial made me cry. Watch and see.


Each life is irreplaceable

I came across this today... so true, so true. May we all stop and think about what is being said when the "dangers" of "overpopulation" are touted. Overpopulation, my foot. Europe is dying (case in point: pregnant women in northern Italy are now going to be offered money to not have an abortion.), and the rest of the planet is not far behind. All people are of great worth and value. Tell me, who are you going to go up to and say "You don't deserve to live." ????


Of course, it's the girls, the unborn, the disabled, the elderly, the poor....


Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Like a window

Do please read this lovely reflection on Christianity and Beauty by Cardinal Marc Ouellet. You won't be sorry! :)

An excerpt:

Our world easily doubts truth; it is tempted, too, to despair in the goodness of being, but it is still sensitive to beauty. How many artists suffer in ways that can at times lead them to the verge of personal shipwreck, but the beauty that fascinates them also saves them from drowning. The beautiful opens the heart to another dimension, like a window onto the infinite.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Restless for the infinite

Mr. Jonathan Foreman of Switchfoot has written a new poem, which he read at a show a few days ago in England. I do declare it a winner! ;) It is beautiful and thought-provoking, and methinks someone has been reading Lord of the Rings lately. "The other shore?" "The sea of glass?" Oh, yes. Return of the King, to be exact. Love it. Lovelovelove.

As found at the wonderful website Land of Broken Hearts:



The voice of the sea on a moonless night
Calling, falling, slipping tides

The voice of leaky, dripping pipes
Endless, aching droplets of light

Running, pushing falling down
Always longing, always now

Silent underneath these streets
Even blood finds ways to bleed

Even rivers ways to run
Even rain to reach the sun

Even here within these means
Within this skin, within these dreams

Longing for the other shore
The world we've never been before

Restless for the infinite
With tears of saints and hypocrites

For death and life, for night and day
With blood of black and white and grey

One by one by one by one
Our rivers surge and fight and run

Until the sea of glass we meet
At last completed and complete

Where tide and tear and pain subside
Where joy and laughter drink them dry.

Monday, May 31, 2010

Lest we forget: Memorial Day 2010

Memorial Day 2010

The Field of the Slain, by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan


To all men and women who have given their lives in military service to our country: thank you. Without your sacrifices, America might not be here today. Or at least, not be as she is today. True is the maxim "Freedom isn't free." May we always see freedom as the freedom to do and be good, and not as the freedom to "do anything." I am continually sickened to see how the poisonous ideologies that you fought against are permeating our culture more and more. Beloved dead: pray for us, as we pray for you. You are not forgotten, may God grant you peace.

And to all now dead who fought in our nations battles, here at home and abroad, but were not killed at war, we thank you and remember you, too. My Grandfathers Charles and Robert are my most immediate connection to veterans, in this case World War II. Both returned home. Grandpa Bob entered at the tail end of the war, and didn't see much. In which case, I am thankful, as perhaps otherwise Daddy might not be here...then I would not. Grandpa Charlie witnessed a lot, and was haunted for the rest of his days by his memories of war. He never did talk about it much to my mother, his daughter.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen
.

.......................................

Poem: "In Flanders Fields," by John McCrae, written 1915, during World War I.


In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

................................


The Red Cross (allegory of Flanders war graves), by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan


Archangel Michael trampling Satan, by Guido Reni



Our Lady of Peace, by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan



St. Joan of Arc, Medieval, artist unknown



.............................

Christ Jesus, Prince of Peace, have mercy on us.
Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.
Mary, Queen of Peace, pray for us.
St. Michael the Archangel, pray for us.
St. Joan of Arc, pray for us.

Keep our soldiers safe.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

The dance of shadow and light

I was just now browsing this blog looking for something I had read a few months ago, when I came across this post. Breathtaking. Just breathtaking. And it connects eerily to my own life, in the way these little things (or are they so very little?) often seem to do....since the end of July 2008, I have put on my MySpace (which I never visit anymore, lol), for my location, "where light and shadows meet." It is a concept/vision that has intrigued me for a long time, and just the imagery of it...stirs my mind and heart. Oh, do read it. I love this. It's so...I don't know how to explain it. Just read it. :)

An excerpt:

“Light shines in the darkness; the darkness comprehends it not.”

A lot to think about in that one little line. A lot to think about in the dance of shadow and light, which moves all around us and within. The more we understand about how we house dark and light inside our own souls, the more we can understand its movement through the world.

That’s a lot to look at, a lot to be accountable for, too, over time and in eternity. No wonder we are always only beginners.








It reminds me a little bit of Switchfoot: "The shadow proves the sunshine; let my shadows prove the Sunshine."

Friday, May 28, 2010

Thoughts and Observations on Memorial Day weekend

It's Memorial Day weekend again, which means parades and barbecues, cemetery tributes and visits with faux flowers*....


What I find interesting, however, is that for a lot of people, it's actual focus is forgotten and altered. No, I don't mean here how it has just become another "day off" on which to relax, which is sad in itself, but rather how it has gone, for many families, from a day on which to exclusively remember our war dead and also those who served in the military, survived, but have since passed away, to a day on which to remember any and all dead family members. ie: in stores selling the faux flowers - many say "Mother" and suchlike. The ones that stand up against the gravestones. You know...

Anyway. The reason it interests me is because, quite frankly, this is a result of Protestant America. Present-day America may have been discovered (not talking about Native Americans here) by Catholics (Spanish), but was founded by Protestants. America is more or less Protestant-ly minded. ish. Even my own family used Memorial Day as the day to visit the graves of all family members, not just the military ones.


See, if America were Catholic, or Catholic in founding, if you get what I mean, this would not have happened. My point:

All Souls Day, November 2nd, is for all dead family members, etc.

Memorial Day, in America, is a day set aside to remember our war dead and those who served in the military, now deceased, but did not die in combat. ie: both my mother's father and my father's father, etc.

(Veteran's Day, November 11, was originally called Armistice Day, for the day WWI ended, but was then changed in the US to be a day on which to remember and honor our living veterans; in other countries it is often called Remembrance Day, and is their "Memorial Day" on which to remember both war dead and veterans)

In traditionally Catholic cultures, All Souls Day is the day everyone goes to the cemeteries and places flowers at the graves, etc. Along with all the other varied and colorful traditions connected to the day for the different cultures. For Americans, the most visible connection we have to this day is Dia de los Muertos (Nov. 2nd), in Mexico. "The Day of the Dead." It is not a "Mexican Halloween," in the way Halloween is thought of in America. It is All Souls Day, as celebrated by our Mexican brothers and sisters. They have many traditions, besides taking flowers to the graves of their loved ones -- sugar skulls, home altars laden with the favorite foods of the dead loved ones, many traditional foods, picnics with candles at the cemetery. And so on. It is very colorful and very joyful, really. A time to remember and pray for those who have gone before us.

In doing away with the vibrant traditions and rituals of Catholic Christianity, Protestants somehow perceived a hole in their practices - one regarding their dead. Though it was not at all done consciously or with this purpose in mind, America's Memorial Day gradually began to gain a "sub" purpose (aside from its actual one to honor our military dead) - remembering all our dead family members. Most Americans, not having a special day for this, just naturally began to do so on Memorial Day. Though Memorial Day is not as religiously rich in traditions and customs as All Souls is the world over, it does, in a way, have its own set of traditions.

It seems the need to have a special day to do this is part and parcel of being human. We are hard-wired for it. I think most, if not all, cultures the world over have all had some sort of special day or festival or rituals for remembering their dead. So really, in that sense, and I am not saying this to be snide or condescending at all, Catholics had it right the first time. More and more Protestants are adopting liturgical traditions having to do with a Church year they barely recognize. Some Protestants are more "liturgical" than others, but still, they are adopting....
Advent wreaths and Lenten sacrifices. Memorial Day-turned-All Souls.... this renewal of interest in liturgical/Church year traditions is hopeful. :)

Really, I have found that within the general term "Protestant Christianity", there is a movement of sorts towards a very sacramental vision of life. I find this in the lyrics and worldviews of many of my most-loved musicians, for instance. But the way they are learning to see the world, the way we all ought to be learning to accustom our eyes, is Catholic, not Protestant. (However, many Protestants down the ages have had sacramental visions in some form, despite their particular denomination's actual way of seeing the world.) In seeing goodness in Creation, in material things, even 'secular' ones and seizing them for good, for Christ (ie: rock music)...they are doing something very Catholic indeed. Or, I should say, something that is truly Christian, but I shall write more on that later (really! I have a whole host of thoughts on that). Much of what they are doing/seeing/believing isn't really Protestant at all, especially for Calvinism-based denominations. In fact, Calvin would have punished them severely for a lot of their "excesses" -- tattoos, jewelry, various fashions, that loud music (lol!), dancing.... I find this fascinating. I did read an article somewhere not long ago on how the 'end' of the Reformation is coming... hm...

Maybe someday we can hope Memorial Day will be allowed to return to its proper purpose (which is where the emphasis lies in public celebrations; it's in private ones that it takes on All Souls Day elements) and All Souls Day will be given more attention in America. Because, quite frankly, even American Catholics have forgotten that holy day. (not saying all of them, but a lot). It seems the rich and vibrant traditions were left in the Old Country and their homelands. Not to mention Western society's deathly fear of death (sorry for super-lame pun). Halloween and horror flicks notwithstanding, approaching our mortality with thought, maturity, reverence, and intelligent consideration -- recognizing the urgency with which our lives must be lived (we only get one try) -- is generally avoided at all costs these days. We run away from aging and try to live longer and longer. We laugh at death and scenes of grief and mourning -- unless we are the ones mourning.

Speaking of which, no one knows how to properly mourn anymore. Gone are the old traditions and careful allocations of time and remembrances when someone died. Gone are the consolations of church rituals -- rituals everyone witnessed and participated in. We don't know how to mourn, grieve, or lament anymore (*sarcasm warning* thank you Stoicism remnants in Western society (adopted by mostly Protestants; Catholics generally are emotionally open - crying, laughing, etc), coupled with denial of mortality and avoidance of love and expression of emotion (vulnerability) in general......)

Perhaps we can learn a thing or two from our Hispanic brethren and revive real All Souls Day celebrations in the context of our own heritages and families.....unless Americans keep seeing Dia de los Muertos as just a "Mexican Halloween" without the trick-or-treating and modern-day excess of gory horror. >_< But then, we have also forgotten what Halloween is actually for, what it actually means -- Hallowe'en, All Hallow's E'en/Eve - the eve or vigil before the feast of All Hallows, that is, All Saints. And that is a topic for another day. ;)


*I would love to see a rebirth of the tradition of planting perennial flowers by gravestones. Cedars and yews are traditional for church yards, and lilies, irises, peonies, tulips, crocuses, roses, grape hyacinth, daffodils, and other perennials are also common for graves. In a teeny little forgotten cemetery where I have family members on my mother's side buried, there are lots of irises. One year we were there, I asked if we could dig some up and plant them at home, since they would be meaningful to us. So we did, and now we have some old-fashioned yellow irises and blue flag irises in our yard, a gentle reminder of those ancestors. (along with our jillions of other irises). :)

**It may seem I am picking on Protestants, but I am not trying to belittle, as I have many dear Protestant friends, and many of my favorite bands' members are some kind of Protestant Christian. Plus, several favorite writers are/were Protestant. :P I am just making some observations, as Protestant theology, worldview, and practices and customs (or the lack thereof) produce profoundly different results/effects in human lives than does Catholicism. This in itself is a huge topic and if I ever do write much about my own observations/experiences with this, it will be later. :P No bashing here, just cultural observations. :)

Friday, May 21, 2010

A gift of song

One thing that has passed in and out of my mind for about a year now (it was more on my mind last year, as I graduated high school) has been the desire to start, somehow, a little choir that’s sole purpose would be to sing, free of charge, for the poor and forgotten. Meaning, the people in homeless shelters, nursing homes, domestic violence shelters, soup kitchens, the sick and/or dying in the hospital, and the like. And the music would be mostly sacred music, music they mostly no doubt have little exposure to. (of course there can be exceptions)

The ethereal-yet-earthy sounds of Medieval and Renaissance church music, of chant, and of other, later works, too. Right up to more modern works by composers such as Eric Whitacre (=love, lol) and Joshua Shank. (both utilize dissonant chords, and dissonance in the right places, done correctly, can be the good-goosebump-inducing, unearthly-seeming kind). :)

Why? Because these people are starved for beauty. Time and time again, I heard my HS choral director Roberts tell us that “this concert, that night…” [whichever one it may be] may be the highlight of someone/s in the audience’s Christmas season (if it was that time), or their best night in weeks, even months. He would remind us of the current recession and economic anxiety. How people are pulled thin and stressed out to the extreme. Just one hour (or less) of beautiful music, immersed in another world, can refresh them completely.

My own mother would tell me this – that our concerts were the things she looked forward to most, and the things that refreshed her the most. They allowed her to, if only temporarily, shed all the cares and worries of the rest of the day, the world, of life. I know she is not the only one.

Of course, music is special among the arts. She is sort of the one that connects all the others, somehow, and it is music that most breaks down the ‘barrier’ between the human and the Divine. It is music that most seems to border on another world, causing the already thin veil between them (which can seem to us humans like a wall at times) to flutter… Music is no ordinary thing.

But I regress. Roberts told us to give our all, to give “110%” – to always enunciate so the “little blue-haired lady in the back” can hear what we say (when we sing a song in English), to put our hearts into it, to “tell the story.” To touch people. Music is our gift, he said, to give to the world. He would say that he believes that we were put on this world for two reasons: “to worship God, and to uplift our fellow man.”

And so we sang as a gift. A gift to our families, friends, strangers we’d never meet. For each other.

For God.

When we sang in the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Louis in April of 2009, it was unbelievable. No words to describe it. It was hard for all of us not to cry. I had been there before, in 2007, so I was prepared and eager to see the immense beauty of it. But my 98% Protestant choir-mates were not. Stunned down to their toes, they wandered the Cathedral Basilica with wide eyes, excited whispers, little gasps of surprise and pleasure, awe and wonder written all over their faces. Cameras flashed over and over. Later, I heard some say its beauty was such that it “almost made them want to be Catholic.” (!!! :D) Beauty, true beauty, is a powerful sign of the sacred. It always seems to cause us to look beyond this life to Something More, to True Beauty, which is God. Yet at the same time, beauty is anchored in the things of this world. In colors and sounds and smells and earthy things. It connects heaven and earth. Beauty is also a powerful restorative, bringing healing and relief to the soul.

And somehow, my thoughts wandered to those who have never had the chance to hear such music, nor visit such stunning, breath-taking holy places, such as the Cathedral. Yet I know that both things are meant for all people. Anyone is allowed to visit a church, to go to Mass, to hear such music sung at Mass. But of course – an awful lot of what is sung in Catholic churches these days is a load of rubbish and sounds like awful, pained imitation Broadway show-tunes.

(The best of Broadway music can be lovely and beautiful and fun, true music of its own kind, of course not suitable for Mass, but this stuff at church doesn’t even come close to good Broadway. Or good pop, rock, or anything else like that. It’s all rubbish and dulls the senses.)

And also, an awful lot of Catholic churches these days are indistinguishable from the office buildings down the street, or whatever. They bear no resemblance inside or outside to a house of God, a place of worship, a place of beauty.

After all, the high vaulted ceilings of Gothic cathedrals of the Medieval age were built to lift the eye up, up to light, up to the heavens, ‘up’ to God. Holy Mother Church, in her wisdom, filled the church space with beauty that both instructs and inspires.

So, I thought, drawing inspiration from the little student ensemble (from a local university) that would sometimes sing at Mass at my parish (which the people ate up like candy, who are sadly also starved for beauty)…why not start a vocal ensemble of say, no more than 30 or so people, whose mission would be to share this beauty with those who generally don’t often have access to it?

Again, they are starved for beauty. Not only are a lot of them materially poor, they are deprived of beauty, of spiritual or transcendent beauty, of a respite from the workaday, ugly world that surrounds them, or the loneliness that creeps up on them. And so on.

One thing I have learned in becoming Catholic is that not only can one be materially poor or impoverished, one can also be spiritually poor. Now, this is not the same as being “poor in spirit,” as in the Beatitudes, which refers to the virtue of humility (as opposed to pride). Being spiritually impoverished can mean any number of different things, including those who claim no need for God, those deprived of the Gospel, those given warped ideas about God, the Church, bad theology, etc, those with little to no awareness of the spiritual in any form, or the transcendent, or deprivation of beauty. Because beauty is one of the chief ways God reaches us, for He made us very sensory, ‘sensual’ beings. And so on. Spiritual poverty of this kind takes many forms and is something of a pandemic in our post-modern world. So many addictions, obsessions and compulsions of all kinds – all attempts, conscious or subconscious, at filling the God-shaped ‘void’ in our hearts. We make for ourselves so many false idols that take a myriad of forms – science, politics, sex, entertainment, power, money, “stuff”, sports, social status, work, even work at church, even knowledge…the list goes on. None of them intrinsically evil or bad, we just take it to excess and turn it into a god of sorts. We are a culture that is trying so hard to run away from God, while at the same time desperately seeking Him in our heart of hearts.

I was starved for beauty once. I didn’t call it that because I wasn’t aware of it like I am now. I had no language to articulate what I was feeling with. But that’s what it was. I longed for all the tangible, old, beautiful expressions of faith, the mystical and enchanted – stained glass windows, candles, statues, art, incense, old church buildings, the holy water, the rosaries. The sunlight streaming through the colored panes. The bells ringing, the flowers around the church…and this is just with regards to churches! I longed for beautiful old English homes and cottages, the gorgeous English gardens, I loved and still love period films for the costumes and sets…the list could go on and on and on and on. Beauty is a powerful pull to God, who is Ultimate Beauty.

In a way, I am still starved for beauty. I do not get incense at every Mass, or Mass ad orientem (facing east, pointing to the rising sun [Son]) at my parish. No beautiful music, either, even though we have an organ and a choir loft. With a little training, it would be easy to start a little schola to sing the Gregorian chant propers for Mass. But nooooo, we don’t even try. The makeshift “choir” formed for special occasions or feasts such as Christmas is hardly a choir, with not enough male voices, too many (well-meaning) aging ones that push the tone and pitch awry, and is not allowed to sing from the choir loft!! A group of people standing in front of Mary’s altar singing is a pointless distraction during Mass. They are not there to perform, which is what my Chorale did at the Cathedral Basilica, they are there to provide the music for Mass. Meaning they should be heard, not seen. Whereas in an actual choral performance outside of Mass, it is appropriate to sing around the sanctuary steps/altar rail, etc, as we did.

At the Mass in the Tridentine Rite, locally just starting up, they have to have it in the local “cathedral” which is technically old, but ransacked in the 70’s or whatever, if you get what I mean. -____- The interior is greatly altered and not ideal for the Tridentine. :(

And besides, we are all spiritually impoverished in some way or other, some greater, some lesser. For we are human and imperfect, and on this side of life for now. We all hunger for the Cosmos in the Chaos of life. The God-ache in our hearts is God calling us to Him. We need that longing for the soul’s Beloved. It pushes us along in our pursuit of a holy life lived for God. It is the spark that causes us to seek Him, to run to Him. In the same way that two lovers long for each other…

But now I am rambling on.

Somehow, God willing, I hope to form such an ensemble within the year. How am I going to do this?!

I don’t read music very well, honestly. Or know enough about conducting or directing to do it. I’d like it to be mostly students, if possible. To be young people giving back. It would take work and time and organization. If we were all in choir together normally, we could start out with songs we all know from there, which is helpful. And also, it occurred to me that most of the places these people are to be found – homeless shelters, etc – are not acoustically conducive for such music. In the case of nursing home residents, we’d have to stay there, which is fine. But if it is at all possible, I’d love to somehow bring the others we’d sing for to a nearby church building that is built more traditionally (and therefore more acoustically conducive).

I suppose this is the place I should ask for your prayers for such an endeavor. :P Indeed, yes, I ask for your prayers. I have so many ideas similar to this in scale, I have no idea how I could possibly do them all. Oh, sigh. :( But I really hope to be able to do this. It would be amazing and would be an unusual, but needed, way to minister to the downtrodden and the “least of these.”

...................

"Greatly did I weep at the beauty of your hymns and canticles, moved deeply by the sweet chants of your Church’s music. The voices flowed into my ears and truth was poured forth into my heart, from which the emotion of my devotion overflowed: tears ran from my eyes and I was blessed in them." ~ St. Augustine

Grief.

It's been a little more than a week, now, since I learned of Catriona's death. It's not been easy. I haven't cried every day, since I have been trying not to think of her all the time. I know if I did, I'd just start crying again. Last night, earlier today, and a few other nights, though...I have cried a lot. Cried myself to sleep, even. It just hurts. A lot. Not much can be done about that. I would say a few more things about her, about it all, but not right now. I don't feel like crying again right now. sigh.

Maybe later I will.

It just hurts. I miss her so much. And as soon as I wrote that, tears well up...

sigh again.

Thank you for your kind words, and for caring. Your love is as a balm to my wounds. Please keep me and my family in your prayers, still, as we continue to heal and to grieve.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

A hole in my heart

Well, I'm home now. I'm glad to be home.
But...

there is a hole in my heart now.

You see, when I got home, I was sat down and gently told that one of our cats had to be put down a week ago.




They didn't tell me right away because they didn't want to distract me from my finals or ruin my end-of-the-year fun last week. My parents were right in not telling me until I got home. I would have been a wreck otherwise, unable to do much of anything, enjoy anything, or find motivation to study or finish that paper.

But ....omg.

I've already cried and cried and cried. No, it's not Wayne, who was very sick earlier this year. This one was completely unexpected. It's Catriona.


Catriona. She had seemed ill, so Daddy took her to the vet. Who told us that he was 98% sure she had a disease, I forget its name, but it's usually inherited at birth, and won't show (if it does) for 6 or so years. And it's fatal. There's no cure.

Catriona was a little more than 6 years old, about.

Oh, my baby, my beautiful baby girl..........!!!!

They had to put her down then because the vet said it was highly likely she could die while my parents were away in Chicago, packing me up to come home. Plus, she would suffer needlessly.


My heart hurts. Oh, my heart hurts. When I say I'm crying right now, I am not kidding. This is literally a nightmare come true. I've had dreams where we've lost one or more of the cats, and more than once I've woken up with my face wet from crying in my sleep.

Only this time, I am awake. And it is not a dream.

Though I keep expecting to see her walk down the hallway, or jump on the kitchen stool, to see her on the sofa, anywhere...somewhere.................how can this be real???


Silver has lost his best friend.

Our little Roly-Poly Girl is gone. (She would roll over on her back when she happy.)

She chirped at the birds out the window the most. No more will I hear that.

No more will I hear her sweet little voice when she meowed, her loud purrs, or do her little "trick" (stand up on her hind legs and jump a little)....

No more will I see her warming herself under a lamp in the living room, or in the sunlight.

No more will she bang open a door to "let" herself in, as if to say "I am HERE." Oh, you funny girl...

No more will I hear her funny-and-annoying, loud, she-demon-cat growl when she felt her "bubble" had been intruded upon.

No more petting her silky soft fur, holding her itty-bitty paws...

No more having her eagerly ask to be brushed if she saw the brush be gotten out.

No more little "conversations" with her...

Oh, my God! Why? Why?

For all the wonderful things this past school year has brought, it sure has been a painful one, too. So many things lost...

And now, my sweet little kitty girl! Oh, these tears are bitter indeed. And these words are so inadequate. So inadequate.

I know Jesus and Mary are delighting in you, little girl. I love you and miss you so much, my beautiful baby kitty girl, Catriona. I wish I could at least have said good-bye and hugged you and told you I loved you one last time. It hurts so much that I didn't get to. But I know you know I love you, and that Daddy and Mama do, too. Give Corie and Lloyd my love for me.

I love you forever. And I will miss you so, so much. <3



Lady Catriona Marie Velvet Grey

August 2003- May 4th, 2010


"Nothing of what is is lost. It is not lost to God, nor to us."


~ from the book Grieving With Grace (quote found online by me several months ago)

Sunday, May 9, 2010

MAD

EDIT: Please note that the following is completely a rant, a stark-raving-mad-rant. No real need to read this. I'm still angry at Facebook and I still think they are really over-stepping their bounds here into our privacy and ability to control what we want on our profiles. Don't know what to do about it except every few days tell them about it. -____-

...................

So.

Rachel FREAKING HATES THE NEW FACEBOOK PROFILE LAYOUT.


THEY COMPLETELY SCREWED UP WHAT I HAD WRITTEN THERE. INSTEAD OF NICE, ALPHABETIZED, ORGANIZED LISTS, IT LOOKS LIKE CRAP NOW. DISORGANIZED AND HARD TO LOOK AT AND READ. PLUS, THE WAY THEY HAVE IT NOW MAKES IT IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO HAVE MY LITTLE "POEM" THING UNDER MY "INTERESTS."


THIS NEW LAYOUT MAKES YOUR PROFILE INFO LESS PERSONALIZABLE, HARDER TO READ, CLUTTERED, DISORGANIZED.


AND NO ONE CAN FREAKING READ A RUN-ON LIST OF "PAGES" THAT'S 600+ LONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I'M COMPLAINING TO FB THROUGH THEIR 'SUGGESTIONS' link EVERY DAY UNTIL I HEAR FROM THEM OR SOMETHING HAPPENS.



I REFUSE TO SETTLE FOR THIS CHANGE FOR THE WORSE.


I AM SO MAD RIGHT NOW.

FACEBOOK REALLY IS FAILBOOK RIGHT NOW.



Omgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg


hdoisdy9oaed709aweuoadlkasdnlkasdhuoa9se7r9wuedlaskdlasdjkasjdaou7reo9wueadkasdjklasueo9weaojklsdnkjshdiayraihdksdnjkasehyai4yw98!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







*fumes*