Head-dibs

  “Reaching for his saddlebag He takes a rusty sword into his hand Then striking up a knightly pose He shouts across the ocean to the shore Till he can shout no more” (Gordon Lightfoot)

John Locke published his Treatise on Civil Government in 1689, a work influential to the development of our Declaration of Independence. The focus of this reading is, “An Essay Concerning the True Original Extent and End of Civil Government.”   Locke announces that consent to live by the constitutional laws of government is rooted in the fact that all men are created equal. No one is born one over or better than another, but we actually owe one another, our greatest debt being love for others before ourselves. In the so-called “state of nature”, anyone choosing to break the smallest of laws declares himself to be above all law and others; therefore, the lawbreaker deserves judgment, even punishment, by those who keep the law. “The state of war” is “the right to destroy that which threatens me with destruction.” Slavery, says Locke, is a state of war; however, if one party consents to be obedient to another with limited power, then there is government. Of all governmental powers, suprem

 

 Excellent with chicken, too!

  “The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley, An’lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain, for promis’d joy!” (Robert Burns) ((Pic created on my phone from an AI art app))

“The rich were dull and they drank too much, or they played too much backgammon. They were dull and they were repetitious. He remembered poor Scott Fitzgerald and his romantic awe of them and how he had started a story once that began, ‘The very rich are different from you and me.’ And how some one had said to Scott, Yes, they have more money. But that was not humorous to Scott. He thought they were a special glamorous race and when he found they weren't it wrecked him as much as any other thing that wrecked him.” (Ernest Hemingway, “The Snows of Kilimanjaro”, 1936)

 This is attempt #2 at taking a selfie  Here is attempt #1

“ . . . And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep, In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd,  While he forth from the closet brought a heap  Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd; With jellies soother than the creamy curd,   And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon;  Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd  From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon. These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand On golden dishes and in baskets bright Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand In the retired quiet of the night, Filling the chilly room with perfume light.— “And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake! Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite: Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache. . . “ From “The Eve of St. Agnes” by John Keats, published 1820. Painting by Arthur Hughes, 1856

 

 

  From The Autobiography, Part 1, 1791

 I am presently re-reading Shakespeare’s “Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.” This is one of my favorite plays. Another favorite is Tom Stoppard’s stroke of genius, “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.” This comedic gem is built around the observation that these two men (Gildenstern and Rosencrantz) have few and small appearances in Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”, yet contribute an important part to the story. Stoppard brings a question to our attention: what were these two men doing the whole time they were not on stage? One proficiency of Hamlet is his ability to ask questions as he wrestles with his problems. Stoppard’s play has Rosencrantz and Gildenstern wander into an empty tennis court where they volley at a game of “Questions.” What begins as boredom-bashing fun, suddenly turns deeply philosophical. Of course they walk off with no answers, but most notably, they are unable to tell which one of them is Rosenzrantz and which is Gildenstern! They don’t know who they are! Hilarity in the contex

 

 

Montaigne confronts unbelief, arrogance and ignorance head-on in his short essay, “That it is Folly to Measure Truth and Error by Our Own Capacity.” He begins explaining that belief is in direct proportion to the malleability of the soul. Establishing this, he proves that we can’t say this or that is impossible on the grounds that we don’t have enough information. We should say instead that this or that is unusual.   Reason dictates that “to condemn anything for false and impossible, is arrogantly and impiously to circumscribe and limit the will of God, and the power of our mother nature, within the bounds of my own capacity.”    He adds that, “to condemn them as impossible, is by a temerarious presumption to pretend to know the utmost bounds of possibility.” Belief is kept intact by judging “with more reverence, and with greater acknowledgment of our own ignorance and infirmity . . . “ So the next time someone says “that’s impossible” see what happens by asking “don’t you mean ‘unusua

I’ve  been fascinated by Classic literature for as long as I can remember. As a child, I was introduced to Barrie, Dickens, Kipling, Twain, Stevenson and Wyss. In Fourth Grade I found Benjamin Franklin, dressing like him to give a school-boys’ report on his life and accomplishments after reading his autobiography (abridged). In Fifth Grade, dressed as Dracula, I introduced a recording of “The Tale Tell Heart” (read by Vincent Price) at a school Halloween party. Afterward, I begged for a copy of Poe’s Complete Works and carried that green tome for years, reading every chance I could. Wait . . . Dracula? Then came Frankenstein. Heinlein took me over the moon and Bradbury stole my literary heart with creepy carnivals and Martian colonies. I don’t recall when I found Shakespeare— seems he was always there.   And then came Tolkien, who was frowned upon by my parents, who instead sought to distract me with another author named Lewis. If only they knew . . .  I have a very short list of thing

  Writing on “The Education of Children,” Montaigne addresses his essay to Madame Diane De Foix, Comtesse de Gurson, who is expecting her first child. He writes in response to her request for advice. Montaigne’s emphasis has been on the need to educate children in virtue before knowledge, that one must digest what is learned to make it part of oneself, not regurgitate. The goal of education is not “to cover a man’s self (as I have seen some do) with another man’s armour, so as not to discover so much as his fingers’ ends.”  Montaigne admits he has no specific method or philosophy regarding education, but as he writes, a theme or rubric comes clear. Some sciences are specific and easily applied (such as farming), “But, in truth, all I understand as to that particular is only this, that the greatest and most important difficulty of human science is the education of children. . . . it is no hard matter to get children; but after they are born, then begins the trouble, solicitude, and care

  “On Pedantry,” Montaigne examines the question of “What matters most?” To find that answer, one must first answer the question of which is better: to be educated, or to be good? Montaigne observes how “the cares and expense our parents are at in our education, point at nothing, but to furnish our heads with knowledge; but not a word of judgment and virtue.” The test for our time is to discover whether we turn out scholars or wise men and women. Montaigne suggests there should be a third category of people: “O, the blockheads!”   “We should rather examine,” Montaigne writes, “who is better learned, than who is more learned. We only labour to stuff the memory, and leave the conscience and the understanding unfurnished and void.” If Montaigne were alive today, he might shudder at the shallow-verse of our meme culture, as we pass inspiration “like a counterfeit coin in counters, of no other use or value,” than a warm fuzzy. Drawing from Cicero, he teases the point emphasizing “They have

  Which is more offensive: blowing your nose out with your fingers; catching your load in a cloth, putting it in your pocket and carrying it all day; or, blowing into a paper tissue and dropping it into public trash? Why is it disgusting for one to wipe his hands and face on his loincloth while eating, but we make ready use of the napkin that rests on our lap? Which is worse: cannibalism (actually eating people) or religious/racial/social strife (figuratively eating people)?  Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592) modeled in his essay titled, “Of Custom, and that We Should Not Easily Change a Law Received,” the discipline of questioning presuppositions. Why do we hold certain ideas and traditions? When is custom good or bad? Why are the acceptable practices of one culture offensive to another?  Drawing on life experience, reading, and travel, Montaigne is as personal as Augustine though his interest lies in ideas, not spirituality. Through his speculation, Montaigne reveals what his world is

Augustine’s (354-430 AD) autobiographical “Confessions” focuses on the relationship between one man and God. Adler and Wolff ensure in their introduction (Britannica, 1959) that the reader tracks Augustine’s rollercoaster of human spirituality as he doubts, fears, misunderstands, seeks, rejects, and accepts God.  “Confessions” is a prayer, rehearsing everything God already knows starting from birth. “To whom tell I this? not to Thee, my God; but before Thee to mine own kind, even to that small portion of mankind as may light upon these writings of mine. And to what purpose? That whosoever reads this, may think out of what depths we are to cry unto Thee.” (Book 2) When not working out his theology (Book 7’s personal debate on the source of evil), Augustine shows us ourselves, putting down on paper matters that we dare not: a deep desire to love and serve God, but not ready to give up sin and receive Christ’s atonement. This reading covers books 1-8, translated by Watt’s (1631), from Lat

The following was written hundreds of years before Jesus was born, and it describes everything about Him, what He will come to do, and why—and it’s written in past tense! This will never cease to break and heal me. I need brokenness that leads to healing and I pray you find it too. Always have, always will.  ———— “ Behold, my servant shall act wisely; he shall be high and lifted up, and shall be exalted.  As many were astonished at you-- his appearance was so marred, beyond human semblance , and his form beyond that of the children of mankind--  so shall he sprinkle many nations. Kings shall shut their mouths because of him, for that which has not been told them they see, and that which they have not heard they understand.  Who has believed what he has heard from us? And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?  For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire

Finished reading Revelation, and thought of this breathtaking scene.