Pensees Publique

2004: A (Short) Review

I directed four plays (Pirates of Penzance; Midsummer Night's Dream; Kiss Me, Kate; Christmas Carol) and began work on a fifth (King of Fools);

I did not complete The Next Novel, but I did complete the first draft of the new musical and a Tale of the Twelve Kingdoms;

I stayed in the same classroom and learnt to teach a new curriculum;

I began the first steps to considering Consecrated Virginity, but did not follow through on my daily visits to the Blessed Sacrament (mea culpe!);

St. Mary's Parish closed and we all survived the broo-ha-ha and are quite happily ensconced in Immaculate Conception Parish;

We survived familial heartbreaks and extremely tight budgeting;

In those toughest times, God was already there.

There is more - far more - that I should like to write. But that will have to go in quite another journal. Suffice it to say, that looking upon this abbreviated list, the creative accomplishments have been tremendous, but are not matched by holiness. Lord, I long to be holy. I don't know how.

In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs

As for the last day of randominity and daily nothingness (full of sound and fury, signifying...nothing - except for the daily humble life, which is goodness in itself), I shall add:

Have actually taken today off. Am impressed with self for doing so. Watched the "good parts version" of Errol Flynn's (what a great name) Robin Hood (oh, ROBIN!), and the final disk of appendices of LOTR:ROTK and find that:

Beyond tearing up a lot over the contents of the final disk (mostly in a "man shall be saved by beauty" way), I am laughing as well to discover how far Peter Jackson pushed everyone, how he didn't communicate as well as he ought, how crazy everything became and I am laughing because it's so true.

Sadness, sadness, heartfelt pain
If all our love has been in vain
If ever you should tell a lie,
Then, my friend, I shall die.

Sorry...aherm...extra randominity there, courtesy of the heart-wrenching ("children's") book, One Unicorn. What a movie that would be!

Had dinner over at the Browns' last night after rehearsal and a quick nap. One of the most delightful evenings in a long time. Talks about science and paper cutting and snowflakes and sound equipment and art judges and costuming and the educational system and the secular society and the gatekeepers of the universities and the seminaries and swordfighting and I don't know what. Much needed after such a day where my heart nearly stopped (but that's for the other journal).

Julie's Finding Neverland CD is floating through my ceiling. Which leads one to comment that Music From Another Room is such a great phrase, even if the movie looks questionable.

I am too much bound up in theatre. I realized, I've not had a significant break since before Brigadoon (because after Bearskin I went right into pre-production for Pirates). On the one hand, my brain is still roiling with ideas for future productions; on the other, I am simply...tired.

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends –
It gives a lovely light!
~ "First Fig" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Yup, c'est moi. Yet, not upset, just wondering what lies ahead. And, a sonnet for the road:

Only until this cigarette is ended,
A little moment at the end of all,
While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,
And in the firelight to a lance extended,
Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,
The broken shadow dances on the wall,
I will permit my memory to recall
The vision of you, by all my dreams attended.
And then adieu,--farewell!--the dream is done.
Yours is a face of which I can forget
The colour and the features, every one,
The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;
But in your day this moment is the sun
Upon a hill, after the sun has set.
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

I don't agree with the sentiments of that one, now - although it certainly struck me my first year of collage - but the imagery...! I am reminded of a sketch I did Junior year in Austria in...which class was it? Church History? The French Revolution? Of "By all my dreams attended" - of a girl in white flanked by an angel and a demon - because not all dreams are lovely, as Lewis first pointed out to me.

And that, in the spirit of Joycian randominity and long-deserved (add your own accent grave) sabbatical (on the wrong day - although it is sunset now) - reminds me of the poem (if we can call it that) that Kristen and I came up with our Junior or Senior year of High School, simply called "More." I must have it somewhere about. We were on the bus coming from the French Club's annual trip to see Les Mis (yes, it must have been at the end of Junior year) and we were sitting in the back and one of us asked the question, what ought there be more of? Moors, poofy sleeves, heroes, rescues, creaky stairs, ominous shadows, swords, kisses, fog, sashes.... I can't remember what all. We showed it to our beloved English teacher, Mr. Ciervo, and he pointed out that the curious thing to him was that we should desire "ominous things" as part of our landscape. I think my reponse was something along the lines of, well, one requires plot after all. But his comment has stayed with me - particularly in the study of theology - because, years later, I still desire those ominous shadows to be there (at least in theory, and only if thoroughly defeatable by said hero). This is a great mystery to me, yet. It bears thought to wrest it away from jeuvenile Manichaeism, and learn a deeper truth about the nature of the world and our place in it.

When reading the great theologians, I am often struck with the thought that: "This would make a great plot." (Chesterton seems to have been likewise struck and often says so.) And yet when one considers how to play with the essential elements of metaphysical and mystical truth, one is constantly brought short by the realization that any "adaptation" one may do of this weighty truth of our Savior's would be a pale comparison and simply fall short of the majesty to which one aspires. Such thoughts bring to mind the philosophy behind Medieval iconography where they didn't even bother to make Mary look gorgeous - because they knew their human craft would fail. There's a comfort in the "long defeat."

Oh, Lord, I am not worthy
That Thou shouldst come to me;
But speak the Word of Wisdom,
My spirit Thine shall be!

And humbly I'll adore Thee
The Bridegroom of my soul;
No more by sin to grieve Thee
Nor fly Thy sweet control.

Oh Sacrament, Most Holy,
Oh Sacrament Divine!
All praise and all thanksgiving
Be every moment Thine!

It is a day for poetry. It is a day best expressed in poetry. The ending of things always are. There can be no prose about death and rebirth that comes near to touching on the thing. I had a couplet for yesterday, just before I fell into that graced half-hour sleep, but I cannot recall it now. A moment "to a lance extended" - true enough. I have spent all yesterday and today praying - arrow prayers, merely - for it, those ("one loved one")...for everything. It is a child's prayer: "Lord, please bless...." "Lord, I'm still here, please bless...." "Lord, are you blessing...?" "Lord, is this in Your Hands?"

And that is the question "here, at the end of all things" - is it not? And the answer, one hopes (and hope does not disappoint!), is a resounding "YES!" Oh, we are no more than children. "Daddy, is this Yours?" "Daddy, can you fix this?" "Daddy, are you there?" Reduced, at last, to Abba, Father - please! It sounds so altrusitic to say that I have passed beyond the point of caring about the...thing itself. I would willingly sacrifice it - I can think of a dozen immediate benefits to sacrificing it - but that the thing itself is the blessing as well as the curse. One ought to reverse that. One ought to call it by its true name: the cross.

My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
Why so far from my call for help, from my cries of anguish?
My God, I call by day, but you do not answer;
by night, but I have no relief.

Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One; you are the glory of Israel.
In you our ancestors trusted; they trusted and you rescued them.
To you they cried out and they escaped;
in you they trusted and were not disappointed.

But I am a worm, hardly human, scorned by everyone, despised by the people.
All who see me mock me; they curl their lips and jeer;
they shake their heads at me:
"You relied on the LORD--let him deliver you;
if he loves you, let him rescue you."

Yet you drew me forth from the womb, made me safe at my mother's breast.
Upon you I was thrust from the womb; since birth you are my God.
Do not stay far from me, for trouble is near, and there is no one to help....

...But you, LORD, do not stay far off; my strength, come quickly to help me.
Deliver me from the sword, my forlorn life from the teeth of the dog.
Save me from the lion's mouth, my poor life from the horns of wild bulls.
Then I will proclaim your name to the assembly;
in the community I will praise you:

"You who fear the LORD, give praise!
All descendants of Jacob, give honor; show reverence, all descendants of Israel!
For God has not spurned or disdained the misery of this poor wretch,
Did not turn away from me, but heard me when I cried out.
I will offer praise in the great assembly;
my vows I will fulfill before those who fear him.
The poor will eat their fill; those who seek the LORD will offer praise.
May your hearts enjoy life forever!"

All the ends of the earth will worship and turn to the LORD;
All the families of nations will bow low before you.
For kingship belongs to the LORD, the ruler over the nations.
All who sleep in the earth will bow low before God;
All who have gone down into the dust will kneel in homage.
And I will live for the LORD; my descendants will serve you.
The generation to come will be told of the Lord,
that they may proclaim to a people yet unborn the deliverance you have brought.
~ Psalm 22 (selection)

And that, my dear Emily of 2004, is as good a place to end this as any I can think of. Pie awaits upstairs, as is the annual New Year's movie, and praise God for His blessings, not the least of which is family. Ashira a l'Adonai, ki ge'oh, ge'ah!

Mood: Lyrical
Music: Continuing Finding Neverland, which seems appropriate
Beauty: Is.