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thesparklypixie
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Name: Martha
Birthday: 6/23/1987
Gender: Female
Interests: art, graphic art, photoshop, reading, classics, biking, dancing in the rain, climbing trees, writing in cemetaries, hanging out in cemetaries, all sorts of art, friends, growing, learning, nature, europe, africa, traveling, creating things, picking up trash, tea, exploring cities, reading, strolling through bookstores, sleeping in the sun
Occupation: Student
Industry: Digital Media
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
8/20/2004
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| Sophomore year I was privileged to spend a weekend at a Benedictine monastery through the Honors program. I spent last night there, this time going with the School of Prayer ministry from school. Twas refreshing the first time, and refreshing again. Abbot Jerome talked to us about prayer, specifically adoration, sitting at the feet of God, without words. Ideas to put into practice. And a beautiful place, foggy and rainy this time, nestled among hills. I love praying the hours with the monks and chanting the Psalms. And going on walks with a friend at 23h and sitting on hay bales and talking about the broken parts and the broken world and praying together. And I realised how far God has brought me over the last few years, without my ever realising it.
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Est-ce que j'en ai les larmes aux yeux
Que nos mains ne tiennent plus ensemble
Moi aussi je tremble un peu
Est-ce que je ne vais plus attendre
Est-ce qu'on va reprendre la route
Est-ce que nous sommes proches de la nuit
Est-ce que ce monde a le vertige
Est-ce qu'on sera un jour puni
Est-ce que je rampe comme un enfant
Est-ce que je n'ai plus de chemise
C'est le Bon Dieu qui nous fait
C'est le Bon Dieu qui nous brise
Est-ce que rien ne peut arriver
Puisqu'il faut qu'il y ait une justice
Je suis né dans cette caravane
Et nous partons allez viens
Allez viens
Et parce que ma peau est la seule que j'ai
Que bientôt mes os seront dans le vent
Je suis né dans cette caravane
Et nous partons allez viens
Allez viens
--Raphaël, "Caravane"
Dieu nous brise, peut-être, mais il est tout de même bon, et je trouve magnifique que ce chant l'admet. Et toutes ces questions que nous nous demandions parfois...
And this book is changing my life.
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| I wanted to share bits from one of my best airplane trips yet. As I get
older, the crossing of an ocean, the changing of a continent, seems
less and less unreal each time I do it. But there is still so much
beauty to observe outside that little round window. As other times when
a scene just takes my breath away, the first line of one of Emily
Dickinson's jewels comes to mind: "I died for Beauty." I think it in a
much different way than she intended (I believe) but those words are
closest to that experience in one's soul of utter awe, of being
overwhelmed by beauty - beauty that is so powerful it could almost kill
me. And I wouldn't mind.
Coming into O'Hare, the flat fields, divided into farms and plots, were
dusted with snow. Clearly no more than 5 inches, but enough to make the
entire world entirely white, interrupted by a few home or roads, here
and there. A lot of ponds and lakes frozen over.
On the second leg of my trip, flying over the Arctic wilderness, the
darkness was so intense, and the stars seemed closer. It's difficult to
really express such a sensation. Ursa minor looked back at me during
the entire flight. Flying through the dark night gave me such a feeling
of safety, of being enveloped. And I (whose seat was right on the wing)
could see the flashing lights at the tip of the wing, and it seemed as
if we were gliding on ice. Then soon came Ireland, muffled lights under
a soft layer of clouds, which only occasionally let me see a clear bit
of city. And then Belgium, still in the dark, even at 7, roads
radiating out from cities, bright road lights marking many paths in the
dark. Certainly a few cars were on all of them, even on a Saturday
morning, heading in so many different directions. As do we. | | |
| The last few days have been ushering in great winds, cold winds. Walking outside, just across the quad, which might take a grand total of 3 minutes, any exposed skin turns to ice. My hands especially feel like blocks of ice frequently. (Why do I always forget my gloves?!)
Yesterday I noticed that the light had somehow turned wintry without my noticing the gradual process. (I learned recently that the subject of a gerund should be genitive, but it is increasingly becoming objective, and that might eventually become standard... we'll see.) It's lovely how the seasons change so gradually, and yet some days, bam, the light is just more wintry than previously.
In addition to windy weather, events and papers and finals have been buffeting me around. This weekend stands to be a very study-guide filled one. But then a week from now I'll be flying home, where it'll finally seem like Christmas.
Because despite the plethora of Christmas parties (I went to 2 last night, and there was another one happening on campus, and one tonight I will attend also), it never seems like Christmas till I'm walking down busy sidewalks, smelling roasting chestnuts, and visiting markets. Just wish I could buy maggenbrot in France; maybe we'll make it to Germany and I can get some at the Kandern market. I remember visiting that with Eliane and Janette one year.
Meanwhile, just a little more plugging away until we can rest.
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| Already Thanksgiving. Oof. Just hope I can do my photography homework over break. Ugh. I wish profs would stop assigning homework over breaks.
It's always a shock how fast semesters go by. And how things change, and how the beginning of Sept. seems so long ago.
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