There's Beauty in the Bellow

Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry Into the Value of Work , Matthew B. Crawford. From his essay for the New York Times, May 21: A good job requires a field of action where you can put your best capacities to work and see an effect in the world. Academic credentials do not guarantee this. Nor can big business or big government — those idols of the right and the left — reliably secure such work for us. Everyone is rightly concerned about economic growth on the one hand or unemployment and wages on the other, but the character of work doesn’t figure much in political debate. Labor unions address important concerns like workplace safety and family leave, and management looks for greater efficiency, but on the nature of the job itself, the dominant political and economic paradigms are mute. Yet work forms us, and deforms us, with broad public consequences.

From ND Wilson's blog: As is the case with most things that I say, this is stolen. But this isn’t stolen from another writer, this is stolen (and adapted) from a music video/film guy friend. If you want to be a writer (professionally and not just as a hobbyist), here’s a litmus test for your dedication. Can you get up early and write a short creative sketch of the sunrise (oh, say, 250 wds)? Then can you do it again tomorrow? And the next day? Can you write 30 descriptive sketches of 30 consecutive sunrises? The simple exercise in discipline is hard enough, and it will tell you just how much you actually want to write. But on top of that, the writing component is quite difficult as well. How do you see the sunrise in a new way every morning? How do you express it in a new way? Can you get through the verbal cliche-flailing, and actually create 30 distinct scenes? Adapt the exercise if you want. Stand in the same place every night and try to sketch 30 consecutive midnights. I have o...

A gem of wisdom from my Greek professor: In giving an answer, "if you don't know what the question is, you're just blogging."

Look you Floridians: see that sky? There's nothing in the way. It's like the roof got lifted. No haze of humidity pressing down on you; you just stare up into the sky and it makes you giddy. I still think of this cute spot as my little house, even though I only live in the upstairs apartment. And see the lawn? It's actually green. Rob (downstairs) plowed amd seeded it with the help of his brother-in-law; last year it was a mess of dirt, rocks, and weeds. Yellow crocus. Purple crocus. They are actually a deeper purple than this, but my camera isn't able to capture their intensity. I wish I could take pictures like Georgia O'Keefe painte , but my camera doesn't like getting too intimate with its subjects. Last bits of snow. They're just too fabulous; I can't ignore them. Cooking adventures: tomato soup with lots of spices. Those are soy nuts and cilantro on top. I've been putting soy nuts on everything; they have a lovely toasty-golden flavo...

This is a poem my professor read the other day; we're studying Thomas Aquinas and he thought that the poem rather echoed some of Aquinas' metaphysics. (Mr. McIntosh stated that he thought that good metaphysics and good poetry are essential to one another . . . could I say essential to one another's existence?) Every Riven Thing by Christian Wiman God goes, belonging to every riven thing He’s made Sing his being simply by being The thing it is: Stone and tree and sky, Man who sees and sings and wonders why God goes. Belonging, to every riven thing He’s made, Means a storm of peace.Think of the atoms inside the stone. Think of the man who sits alone Trying to will himself into the stillness where God goes belonging. To every riven thing He’s made There is given one shade Shaped exactly to the thing itself: Under the tree a darker tree; Under the man the only man to see God goes belonging to every riven thing. He’s made The things that bring Him near, Made the mind that makes ...

First, in the crafting department: some valentines. The heart folds into an envelope. And then the mask I made for the school's masquerade ball: For my culinary escapades: Roast turkey. There are no vegetables left in the bottom because I ate them. Onions roasted with turkey, oh . . . . From that turkey came this soup. Egg baked in a corn tortilla. It looks rather like a cabbage (which is after all, a flower). Isn't it pretty? Cranberries cooked with merlot, sugar, and pinch of salt. Soooooo good! Between a chutney and a jam, and good on everything. The cranberries had enough pectin of their own: the texture turned out much better than I thought it would. On oatmeal. On toasted tortillas. I also thinly sliced a sweet potato and baked the slices. The cranberries were an agreeable condiment. My beautiful asparagus! With rice pelof. I also made a red wine sauce which you can't see. It turned out a little too thin (it was actually intended to go over fish) and the rice abso...

From an interview with Barbara Nicolosi in Salvo magazine: A story "haunts you because of its paradoxes. How do you haunt an audience? How do you create paradox? What is the nature of paradox? These are the stories that Christian storytellers should be asking themselves. Unfortunately, most Christian filmmakers are just trying to figure out what will sell; they're trying to find the next Facing the Giants . But Facing the Giants is supremely unparadoxical. It's just porn for Christians. It's easy; it makes you feel really good; and it's a fantasy lie. What is that except porn? This made me think of another movie popular with Christians, Chariots of Fire . But Chariots of Fire is not just a feel-good movie about someone who "stood up for what he believed in." The story of Harold Abrahams is almost totally ignored. What gets overlooked is that Abrahams and Eric Liddel are in the same struggle. Abrahams, as a Jew albeit nominally so, did not have any probl...