My dear, dear reader,
You may not have realized it, but I have a sister, a younger one, nine years old. And, believe it or not, I love her something fierce - I suppose that is to be expected, though. At the same time, however, she manages to be the most exasperating of creatures. I try to help and she makes faces at me (the raised upper lip, crinkled nose, and squinty eyes is the most common one). I provide an answer for her homework - and she doesn't want my answer. I tell her that, sorry, but no, I cannot play ping pong, air hockey, Monopoly (yes, I taught her Monopoly to indoctrinate into her the wonders of capitalism), doctor, face-painting with you - sorry, but I have homework, I can't read to, with, or at you - and she "humph"s and stomps out of the room. Which led me to wonder - what is it about sisters that is so frustrating? If you expect me to actually be able to answer this question you're crazy. Nevertheless, I have to write about something, so here goes.
The first possibility is that sisters are deliberately out to get their siblings, that they enjoy, indeed savor, their ability to drive them up a wall. They plot it all out: how will we get them this time? And how fast will we have to be to escape the flying pillow? I imagine these sorts of questions bandying about in the brain of my own cute, adorable, and positively wicked sister. Maybe there's even a sort of congress for sisters - maybe they unionize behind our backs - maybe all that Monopoly hasn't paid off after all.
Perhaps I am being too harsh. Maybe they just can't help it, they are constitutionally unable to withhold from themselves the pleasure of our frustration. Maybe that crinkled face is meant only to hide a wicked little grin.
But perhaps I am being too harsh. Maybe they don't necessarily enjoy, but rather are compelled by the state in a very Harrison Bergeron-ish way.
But perhaps I am being too harsh. Maybe they just evolved that way and have absolutely no control over themselves - it's just biological.
But perhaps I am being hypocritical. Maybe they just respond out of their own exasperation. Could it be that I am the one causing all this frustrating morass of frustration? Surely not (wink)!!
Yours,
Mr. Windsor
P.S. When dealing with sisters I recommend plain black tea. Sisters are such interesting phenomena in and of themselves that your mind won't be able to handle anything more than plain jane tea.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Third House on the Right - On Snow, Emerson, and Jazz Pianists
My dear, dear readers,
Despite my gratitude for the resultant snow days, I was a bit disappointed with the quality of the snow that fell. It was dry and powdery, impossible to really work with. Snowball fights are pretty lame when you can't get the snow to pack into anything resembling a legitimate snowball. Nevertheless, I appreciated the snow, even if only to walk in it. One of my favorite things to do after the snow has stopped coming down is to go out and walk through the freshly fallen snow. I'm not sure I could explain it, but I get a great deal of pleasure from simply walking through fresh powder, the deeper the better. Snow is winter's only redeeming feature.
I was also disappointed with Ralph Waldo Emerson. Having never read anything of his, I approached his work with some anticipation. That anticipation was not merited. His writing is beautiful, that is sure; however, I couldn't help but get the sense that Emerson skimped on philosophic clarity for greater literary effect. And in some sense, Emerson was not a philosopher at all. Perhaps instead he could be called a "moral teacher" or an "exhorter to virtue". Regardless of what he is called, I would have appreciated from him something more than vague phrases about our connectedness, the honor inherent in physical labor, or the necesity of learning from a gloriously beautiful nature. Why should I give a hoot about my connection with the man on the street if he doesn't give a hoot about me? Why should I engage in harsh physical labor if I can pay somebody else to do it for me? What does nature, beautiful though it is, provide for me other than the resources I can extract from it?
Emerson's view of the importance of the individual is intriguing, however. He returns often to the individual as the essence of the whole, that is, as a distillation of humanity. A human, thus, is complete within himself - he need no other to tell him how or why a thing is done, or what the truth is after all. (Sounds like Thoreau: "One man and the truth constitutes a majority.") The laborer becomes Man Laboring, the scholar becomes Man Thinking, etc. What Emerson does not (or at least hasn't yet in my readings) resolved is why the Individual is so important within his Transcendental framework.
On a lighter note, I have discover Oscar Peterson and Red Garland, two marvelous jazz pianists. I am enjoying their work immensely.
Yours,
Mr. Windsor
P.S. When listening to jazz piano I would drink darjeeling or, if you're the greener type, some oolong, a happy medium of black and green tea.
Despite my gratitude for the resultant snow days, I was a bit disappointed with the quality of the snow that fell. It was dry and powdery, impossible to really work with. Snowball fights are pretty lame when you can't get the snow to pack into anything resembling a legitimate snowball. Nevertheless, I appreciated the snow, even if only to walk in it. One of my favorite things to do after the snow has stopped coming down is to go out and walk through the freshly fallen snow. I'm not sure I could explain it, but I get a great deal of pleasure from simply walking through fresh powder, the deeper the better. Snow is winter's only redeeming feature.
I was also disappointed with Ralph Waldo Emerson. Having never read anything of his, I approached his work with some anticipation. That anticipation was not merited. His writing is beautiful, that is sure; however, I couldn't help but get the sense that Emerson skimped on philosophic clarity for greater literary effect. And in some sense, Emerson was not a philosopher at all. Perhaps instead he could be called a "moral teacher" or an "exhorter to virtue". Regardless of what he is called, I would have appreciated from him something more than vague phrases about our connectedness, the honor inherent in physical labor, or the necesity of learning from a gloriously beautiful nature. Why should I give a hoot about my connection with the man on the street if he doesn't give a hoot about me? Why should I engage in harsh physical labor if I can pay somebody else to do it for me? What does nature, beautiful though it is, provide for me other than the resources I can extract from it?
Emerson's view of the importance of the individual is intriguing, however. He returns often to the individual as the essence of the whole, that is, as a distillation of humanity. A human, thus, is complete within himself - he need no other to tell him how or why a thing is done, or what the truth is after all. (Sounds like Thoreau: "One man and the truth constitutes a majority.") The laborer becomes Man Laboring, the scholar becomes Man Thinking, etc. What Emerson does not (or at least hasn't yet in my readings) resolved is why the Individual is so important within his Transcendental framework.
On a lighter note, I have discover Oscar Peterson and Red Garland, two marvelous jazz pianists. I am enjoying their work immensely.
Yours,
Mr. Windsor
P.S. When listening to jazz piano I would drink darjeeling or, if you're the greener type, some oolong, a happy medium of black and green tea.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Second House on the Right - Religio-Sensualism
My dear, dear reader,
Benjamin Disraeli was a British Prime Minister in the late 19th century. I share this with you, not to bore you with trivia, but to provide some context for a quote of his that I recently found: "Every religion of the beautiful ends in orgy."
At first glance, this quote seems rather strange - humans are, in general, fond of beautiful things. We are attracted to them out of some sense that beauty is fitting, providing some intangible benefit to our senses and our souls. Thus, it would seem odd to assert that a "religion of the beautiful" would end in orgy. For that matter, what the heck is a "religion of the beautiful" anyway? Is it worship of beauty? Is it some sort of lust for beauty? Or is it simply the idea that the traditions and rituals of any given religion can gild over that which is commemorated until it is forgotten? It seems that any of these could apply, the result is the same.
Clearly, any time a religious group focuses their worship on the consecrated thing rather than on that to which that thing is consecrated, the group loses sight of its purpose. The craze for that which is material that soon follows could, I suppose, be called orgy. Ultimately, this craze turns into a sort of religio-sensualism.
An example of what I mean is in order. Let's take the example of sex among young people in the church. Statistically, young people in the church are equally likely, if not more likely, to engage in some sort of sexual activity as those outside the church. In itself, this is nothing to marveled at - all humans have similar biological instincts. The difference, of course, is that young people in the church are consistently given talks, books, pamplets, lectures, and videos about abstinence, purity, call it what you will. Given this, one would assume that at least some of this teaching would wear off on young people, that there would at least be a marginal difference in the statistics between churched and unchurched. This is not the case.
Perhaps the main reason for this phenomenon is that the church, especially charismatic churches, are giving their youth mixed messages. On the one hand, young people are inculcated with the idea that, to be truly Christian, physical discipline is essential. And scripturally, this injunction is sound. On the other hand, youth are told to throw off inhibitions so that they may more fully experience - and that is a key word, experience - the workings and movings of the Holy Spirit. In youth services, a spiritual sensualism is encouraged: one must feel the presence of God, one must experience some state of religious ecstasy. I am not condemning this, how one worships one's Creator is highly personal. I am, however, arguing that, if the church truly wishes its young people to be sexually pure, it must clearly delineate between physical discipline and spiritual freedom. And it must be sure that the "spiritual experience" does not become an end unto itself, that the beauty of a spiritual encounter does not replace the beauty of that which was encountered, that a beautiful religion does not become a religion of the beautiful.
I must apologize to my (few) readers for this excessively lengthy and depressingly somber post and its rather specialized message. I suppose it was a cloudy day in the Cul-de-Sac.
Yours,
Mr. Windsor
P.S. For cloudy days, I recommend darker teas: Earl Grey, Irish Breakfast, even a little English Breakfast are good choices. I would strongly urge against drinking herbal teas on cloudy days, although chamomile is occasionally acceptable.
Benjamin Disraeli was a British Prime Minister in the late 19th century. I share this with you, not to bore you with trivia, but to provide some context for a quote of his that I recently found: "Every religion of the beautiful ends in orgy."
At first glance, this quote seems rather strange - humans are, in general, fond of beautiful things. We are attracted to them out of some sense that beauty is fitting, providing some intangible benefit to our senses and our souls. Thus, it would seem odd to assert that a "religion of the beautiful" would end in orgy. For that matter, what the heck is a "religion of the beautiful" anyway? Is it worship of beauty? Is it some sort of lust for beauty? Or is it simply the idea that the traditions and rituals of any given religion can gild over that which is commemorated until it is forgotten? It seems that any of these could apply, the result is the same.
Clearly, any time a religious group focuses their worship on the consecrated thing rather than on that to which that thing is consecrated, the group loses sight of its purpose. The craze for that which is material that soon follows could, I suppose, be called orgy. Ultimately, this craze turns into a sort of religio-sensualism.
An example of what I mean is in order. Let's take the example of sex among young people in the church. Statistically, young people in the church are equally likely, if not more likely, to engage in some sort of sexual activity as those outside the church. In itself, this is nothing to marveled at - all humans have similar biological instincts. The difference, of course, is that young people in the church are consistently given talks, books, pamplets, lectures, and videos about abstinence, purity, call it what you will. Given this, one would assume that at least some of this teaching would wear off on young people, that there would at least be a marginal difference in the statistics between churched and unchurched. This is not the case.
Perhaps the main reason for this phenomenon is that the church, especially charismatic churches, are giving their youth mixed messages. On the one hand, young people are inculcated with the idea that, to be truly Christian, physical discipline is essential. And scripturally, this injunction is sound. On the other hand, youth are told to throw off inhibitions so that they may more fully experience - and that is a key word, experience - the workings and movings of the Holy Spirit. In youth services, a spiritual sensualism is encouraged: one must feel the presence of God, one must experience some state of religious ecstasy. I am not condemning this, how one worships one's Creator is highly personal. I am, however, arguing that, if the church truly wishes its young people to be sexually pure, it must clearly delineate between physical discipline and spiritual freedom. And it must be sure that the "spiritual experience" does not become an end unto itself, that the beauty of a spiritual encounter does not replace the beauty of that which was encountered, that a beautiful religion does not become a religion of the beautiful.
I must apologize to my (few) readers for this excessively lengthy and depressingly somber post and its rather specialized message. I suppose it was a cloudy day in the Cul-de-Sac.
Yours,
Mr. Windsor
P.S. For cloudy days, I recommend darker teas: Earl Grey, Irish Breakfast, even a little English Breakfast are good choices. I would strongly urge against drinking herbal teas on cloudy days, although chamomile is occasionally acceptable.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
First House on the Right
My dear, dear reader,
It seems to me that you are lost. This is not a through street. In fact, it is a short one, quite dull - though there is a brilliant pink house up on the left. You will not find what you are looking for here. What you will find are the delightful ramblings of a young person who is actually rather elderly. These ramblings might concern any of the following: History, Literature, Theology, various Teas, Music, Music, Music, and perhaps a dash of politics, like paprika on deviled eggs.
You might like to know that the only reason I created this blog was because I saw a link that said CREATE A BLOG on someone else's blog. It seemed like the natural thing to do, so I did it. I have, like Oedipus, hurled my voice, "far on a dark wind." In this case the dark wind is the internet, which I find a serendipitous comparison.
Future posts will hopefully be more interesting than this one, although that will be for you to judge. I do hope I'll see you again.
Yours,
Mr. Windsor
It seems to me that you are lost. This is not a through street. In fact, it is a short one, quite dull - though there is a brilliant pink house up on the left. You will not find what you are looking for here. What you will find are the delightful ramblings of a young person who is actually rather elderly. These ramblings might concern any of the following: History, Literature, Theology, various Teas, Music, Music, Music, and perhaps a dash of politics, like paprika on deviled eggs.
You might like to know that the only reason I created this blog was because I saw a link that said CREATE A BLOG on someone else's blog. It seemed like the natural thing to do, so I did it. I have, like Oedipus, hurled my voice, "far on a dark wind." In this case the dark wind is the internet, which I find a serendipitous comparison.
Future posts will hopefully be more interesting than this one, although that will be for you to judge. I do hope I'll see you again.
Yours,
Mr. Windsor
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