I WAS RIGHT!
Rome, America, correlation? Oh yes. The Colbert Report has verified my findings here. Or you can watch it here
Friday, June 08, 2007
Thursday, June 07, 2007
G.K.C
Here dies another day
During which I have had eyes, ears, hands
And the great world round me;
And with tomorrow begins another.
Why am I allowed two?
G.K. Chesterton
6-6-44, cont'd
It's awesome (read: awe-inspiring, shocking, puzzling) to me the idea that we were right and they were wrong. Hear me out: in no way do I condone the Nazi treatment or mentality towards those of non-Aryan blood; it's just amazing to me that one group (Allies) could be so right and the other (Axis) could be so wrong. For those citizens who, by the determination of their leader's association and pact with the Axis powers, would have been called the "enemy," I have much sympathy (and empathy). It's just the same nowadays, countries being judged by their leader's political inclinations. How is it, that in a world that so questions the existence of God, or a purpose/Natural Law for all, can be so aligned with an idea and find themselves facing half of the world against them.
The good guys vs. the bad guys. And the kicker is this: they were really bad. Vile, evil, and determined to destroy all that prohibited their idea of perfection. To think that even evil longs for perfection as well. Therein lies another puzzlement. Both good and evil long for their idea of perfection. They strive to create worlds where their "utopia" exists. Why such the need for perfection, for a perfect world and existence? This has turned into a much different post than I intended.
So "good/right" (that which is selfless and desiring happiness for their neighbor- I don't think I would receive much argument against that definition) desires to live with best intentions for all manifested in everyday life, striving for an utopia for all. "Bad/wrong" (that which is completely selfish, desiring that the self be served first and foremost) almost expectantly assumes that those around must sacrifice in order that aforementioned "self" receive their utopia first, others might benefit from that when self has arrived in utopia, not before. (keep in mind I still maintain vast amounts of sympathy for those who were forced to fight for "wrong," it takes a strong soul, stronger than mine, to accept death instead of fighting for that which is wrong.)
Is it not amazing that we were faced with "good/right" and "bad/wrong"? How often are we faced with such blatant examples as we had in World War II? How often do we really get to fight for "right" and do it freely? So often I am reminded of how the United States is much like the Roman Empire: absolute domination in the world, a formidable opponent to all who would seek to strike against it, their citizens having the keys (citizenship of Rome/US) to the world. We have such awesome opportunities as Americans, opportunities we take, I take, for granted. Aside from the Spanish War, Panama, the Philippines, Vietnam, and now even Iraq and Afghanistan (not forgetting that while the war itself is failing, we still are doing quite a bit to help those developing countries, let's keep that in mind), we have waged war against the most formidable foes, the "wrong," and won. No doubt that had we lost the War for Independence, we would still have the same opportunities. Again, not saying that as Americans (also demonstrated by the Romans) we are always right, or even slightly right, but we have the keys to strive towards the "good/right." We've had the opportunities to show the world what "good/right" is all about, that it is necessary for life.
Thank you Allies, thank you for persevering towards "good," for laying your lives down for the "good," even as we now take advantage of that, even as we now abuse that.
Thank you Christ.
The good guys vs. the bad guys. And the kicker is this: they were really bad. Vile, evil, and determined to destroy all that prohibited their idea of perfection. To think that even evil longs for perfection as well. Therein lies another puzzlement. Both good and evil long for their idea of perfection. They strive to create worlds where their "utopia" exists. Why such the need for perfection, for a perfect world and existence? This has turned into a much different post than I intended.
So "good/right" (that which is selfless and desiring happiness for their neighbor- I don't think I would receive much argument against that definition) desires to live with best intentions for all manifested in everyday life, striving for an utopia for all. "Bad/wrong" (that which is completely selfish, desiring that the self be served first and foremost) almost expectantly assumes that those around must sacrifice in order that aforementioned "self" receive their utopia first, others might benefit from that when self has arrived in utopia, not before. (keep in mind I still maintain vast amounts of sympathy for those who were forced to fight for "wrong," it takes a strong soul, stronger than mine, to accept death instead of fighting for that which is wrong.)
Is it not amazing that we were faced with "good/right" and "bad/wrong"? How often are we faced with such blatant examples as we had in World War II? How often do we really get to fight for "right" and do it freely? So often I am reminded of how the United States is much like the Roman Empire: absolute domination in the world, a formidable opponent to all who would seek to strike against it, their citizens having the keys (citizenship of Rome/US) to the world. We have such awesome opportunities as Americans, opportunities we take, I take, for granted. Aside from the Spanish War, Panama, the Philippines, Vietnam, and now even Iraq and Afghanistan (not forgetting that while the war itself is failing, we still are doing quite a bit to help those developing countries, let's keep that in mind), we have waged war against the most formidable foes, the "wrong," and won. No doubt that had we lost the War for Independence, we would still have the same opportunities. Again, not saying that as Americans (also demonstrated by the Romans) we are always right, or even slightly right, but we have the keys to strive towards the "good/right." We've had the opportunities to show the world what "good/right" is all about, that it is necessary for life.
Thank you Allies, thank you for persevering towards "good," for laying your lives down for the "good," even as we now take advantage of that, even as we now abuse that.
Thank you Christ.
6-6-44
During high school I used 6-6-44 to remember D-Day/ Operation Overlord. I also know that the 25th amendment is the one stating the vice-president shall assume the presidency should the president become to "sick" to retain the position. "Sick" starts with an "S" which looks like a 5, hence 25th amendment = sick president. I actually did that for all the amendments and for quite awhile had them all memorized. Not so much anymore....
Right, turning back around and heading from that tangent to the main subject. (Seriously, my attention span needs some thorough examination, the places my mind wanders to when triggered... Mmm, Roy Rogers, did you know his name was actually Leonard Slye? I read somewhere that he grew up so poor that he used to run barefoot over fields of cut corn, building up callouses so he didn't need boots. Ack, I'm doing it again!)
Point is this: Yesterday was the initiation of Operation Neptune (heading into Operation Overlord) and it has been 63 years since they first landed. One of my absolute favorite film productions is Band of Brothers.
Talking about BoB can be my way of honoring the soldiers who landed on the beaches and those who fought before and after. Growing up I've always watched war movies, read the books, (remembered little), and latched onto whatever else I could find to connect me with that era in history. Through all of that though, little has stirred me like Band of Brothers has; little else aside from visiting the "sbarchi" ("disembarkments" in Italian) and battlegrounds. I'm sure in real life Maj. Winters is not as great as he seems in the movie (although, I did read his autobio and was even more impressed), but the entire time I'm watching the series I can barely keep it together. This interpretation of what happened really does break my heart. It's the cinematography, it's the script, it's the lighting and costumes; it's how true to life it feels. Deep inside I am torn between weeping and "hurrah"-ing; knowing their lives are in peril and death so near, all the while so proud of them and wanting each of them to make it home to freedom and joy.
In BoB, the enemy is not portrayed as vile, demon-possessed fanatics, fighting for an vile (evil), demon-possessed dictator. Not that you actually see much of the enemy, really it's only when they're getting spiked by a bayonet or killed in some other manner that you catch a glimpse of their humanity. There's a scene where one of the men from Easy Company comes across some POWs and overhears one of them speak with a familiar accent. Turns out the "German" was from Jersey (I think.. Bronx maybe) and had grown up only a few neighborhoods from the American soldier. The German's parents had paid heed to the Der Fuehrer's request that all Germans of pure blood return to the Mutterland and so he joined up with the German army. Not five minutes after having this conversation, the American soldier leaves to catch up with his Company and having gone a ways, hears gunfire behind him. The POWs had been killed as a answer to the squadron leader's question of, "What to do with them?" Aside from their brutal and uncalled for death, I greatly appreciate the demonstration of the enemy's humanity. They were and are real people too: following what they thought was right.
If you ever have time to sit and appreciate Band of Brothers, and have not had the pleasure to do so yet, I highly recommend it.
Right, turning back around and heading from that tangent to the main subject. (Seriously, my attention span needs some thorough examination, the places my mind wanders to when triggered... Mmm, Roy Rogers, did you know his name was actually Leonard Slye? I read somewhere that he grew up so poor that he used to run barefoot over fields of cut corn, building up callouses so he didn't need boots. Ack, I'm doing it again!)
Point is this: Yesterday was the initiation of Operation Neptune (heading into Operation Overlord) and it has been 63 years since they first landed. One of my absolute favorite film productions is Band of Brothers.
Talking about BoB can be my way of honoring the soldiers who landed on the beaches and those who fought before and after. Growing up I've always watched war movies, read the books, (remembered little), and latched onto whatever else I could find to connect me with that era in history. Through all of that though, little has stirred me like Band of Brothers has; little else aside from visiting the "sbarchi" ("disembarkments" in Italian) and battlegrounds. I'm sure in real life Maj. Winters is not as great as he seems in the movie (although, I did read his autobio and was even more impressed), but the entire time I'm watching the series I can barely keep it together. This interpretation of what happened really does break my heart. It's the cinematography, it's the script, it's the lighting and costumes; it's how true to life it feels. Deep inside I am torn between weeping and "hurrah"-ing; knowing their lives are in peril and death so near, all the while so proud of them and wanting each of them to make it home to freedom and joy.
In BoB, the enemy is not portrayed as vile, demon-possessed fanatics, fighting for an vile (evil), demon-possessed dictator. Not that you actually see much of the enemy, really it's only when they're getting spiked by a bayonet or killed in some other manner that you catch a glimpse of their humanity. There's a scene where one of the men from Easy Company comes across some POWs and overhears one of them speak with a familiar accent. Turns out the "German" was from Jersey (I think.. Bronx maybe) and had grown up only a few neighborhoods from the American soldier. The German's parents had paid heed to the Der Fuehrer's request that all Germans of pure blood return to the Mutterland and so he joined up with the German army. Not five minutes after having this conversation, the American soldier leaves to catch up with his Company and having gone a ways, hears gunfire behind him. The POWs had been killed as a answer to the squadron leader's question of, "What to do with them?" Aside from their brutal and uncalled for death, I greatly appreciate the demonstration of the enemy's humanity. They were and are real people too: following what they thought was right.
If you ever have time to sit and appreciate Band of Brothers, and have not had the pleasure to do so yet, I highly recommend it.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Celtic Knot
Deep within I seek to find
a hand-hold to the depths of mind.
Where it begins
Where it ends
Something to grasp
Something to hold
Something to make sense
of all I know.
Yeah, it's a pretty elementary poem, but it's all I've got right now. Deep inside I feel like a Celtic knot, no beginning and no end! Joy abounds within me, great delight as well, yet part of me is cast in vast loops and turns and twists. I wish I could step within myself and bring out a great clarity of self. I really want to write right now, I want to pour myself out on paper (err.. screen) and write something beautiful and true.
Something beautiful and true... that's really what I want to convey! Thinking now I am reminded that there is so much within me that I want to share but yet want to keep tightly secure, as precious gems. It is true though, my heart is like a treasure box and many gems have been poured in lately. Right now I feel as though I'm running my hands through the loose jewels, letting them trickle down between my fingers into the pile. This started out with each gem making up but a mass of color. However, as I write, these little pieces have become less overwhelming as a whole and more intricately precious as individual pieces. Now I need to sort through them, pick each one up and cherish it, and then appreciate the beautiful mosaic they are needed as a whole to create. Mosaic in a treasure box? Mmm..... oh yes.
That resounds within me. Yes, it is a beautiful mosaic and when I step so closely to it I am overwhelmed by the beauty of the intricate pieces. Making out the picture at this point is not necessary, the gems themselves are a delight and joy to behold. The gems take on a whole new value of worth if you move forward and just reach out and touch them, if you just grasp that they are real and tangible. They were poured in separately in some cases, or many together at other times, meshed together as a mass in the box, and then hand-picked so that each specific piece would create a whole new exquisite dimension of beauty. I love this picture they are creating, I love how I cannot pick out what it will be.
Sometimes locating neither the end nor the beginning of a Celtic knot is important, sometimes all you need to do is just start. Start at any point, no matter where on the end/beginning spectrum it is located, and go. I may not be progressing with any discernible pattern or path or even sense, but I've started.
Sometimes you just need to go.
Or type.
a hand-hold to the depths of mind.
Where it begins
Where it ends
Something to grasp
Something to hold
Something to make sense
of all I know.
Yeah, it's a pretty elementary poem, but it's all I've got right now. Deep inside I feel like a Celtic knot, no beginning and no end! Joy abounds within me, great delight as well, yet part of me is cast in vast loops and turns and twists. I wish I could step within myself and bring out a great clarity of self. I really want to write right now, I want to pour myself out on paper (err.. screen) and write something beautiful and true.
Something beautiful and true... that's really what I want to convey! Thinking now I am reminded that there is so much within me that I want to share but yet want to keep tightly secure, as precious gems. It is true though, my heart is like a treasure box and many gems have been poured in lately. Right now I feel as though I'm running my hands through the loose jewels, letting them trickle down between my fingers into the pile. This started out with each gem making up but a mass of color. However, as I write, these little pieces have become less overwhelming as a whole and more intricately precious as individual pieces. Now I need to sort through them, pick each one up and cherish it, and then appreciate the beautiful mosaic they are needed as a whole to create. Mosaic in a treasure box? Mmm..... oh yes.
That resounds within me. Yes, it is a beautiful mosaic and when I step so closely to it I am overwhelmed by the beauty of the intricate pieces. Making out the picture at this point is not necessary, the gems themselves are a delight and joy to behold. The gems take on a whole new value of worth if you move forward and just reach out and touch them, if you just grasp that they are real and tangible. They were poured in separately in some cases, or many together at other times, meshed together as a mass in the box, and then hand-picked so that each specific piece would create a whole new exquisite dimension of beauty. I love this picture they are creating, I love how I cannot pick out what it will be.
Sometimes locating neither the end nor the beginning of a Celtic knot is important, sometimes all you need to do is just start. Start at any point, no matter where on the end/beginning spectrum it is located, and go. I may not be progressing with any discernible pattern or path or even sense, but I've started.
Sometimes you just need to go.
Or type.
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