25.11.06

The death of many, by Globetrotter

I cannot appease this feeling of anguish. There are many people around there, being killed. Christmas doesn't help very much, neither the weather, which is one day Summer, and the other Winter.
Human life isn't worth a dime. One may die after the TV and other may die before the TV.
The Pope was stubborn and the era of academic stubborness has come to an end .It was overwhelmed by love, passion and its illusions. But the illusion of Wisdom is nothing else than another illusion, in all this confusion. The people we love will bring back to us, the pride on that they love better. I wonder myself whether we are needing lessons in love.
I'm afraid that the Pope is going for Bartolomew, the Patriarch, ignoring how the Orthodoxs managed to survive in an hostile environment. Academic splendour and schoolar assertiveness has come to an end. And the hostile muslims are already stampedeing among themselves, even if the throng waves behind, gathered there, only to see. Behind a brilliant academic there is a dreaming humorist. But an humorist doesn't manage the miracle of laughing. Laughter has to emerge in outbursts. There is no model joke to guarantee the laughs. It depends on the moisture in the air. And now, there is no moisture.
Jesus had no Library and he was not very certain about the watch.
I fear for the Pope. I fear for an all-out war.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Dear Heteronimous,


Hey! relax a bit, no man is responsible for the whole planet. Popes and cauliflowers, Princes and ragamuffins are all transitory, ephemeral, actors on a stage, just like us, playing in less spotlight friendly scenes, stages, spheres and sometimes sophisms.
Wisdom does not guarantee that that laughter, you intuit, is affordable, true and real and at hand. But it helps to get at the other shore of anguish, which is polarly united with laughter, the Lotus of bursting tears exploding into the hearty laughter of the Golden Knights in full armour.

Camoens used to talk about "desconcerto do mundo". He could'nt be else than a witness, as anyone else, except an extraordinary Redeemer. Yes, you may ask, and action? Well, action inspired by karuna, charitas, compassion, is noble and necessary, but its scope it´s not immediately planetarian. Seeds are small, but the earth is patient. If we take too much pride in anger or anxiety or anguish, we may sail on constant storm of the heart,but that´s not Peace, neither the way to reach and conquer at least a gust of it. And without having some little measure of it, some little drop of it, we can't do nothing worthy for the state of troubled affairs. How can we correct confusion and delusion and lack of peace of others and the world within and without, if we ourselves are confused or sorrowful, with too much passion-pathos to stop and have a first healthy laugh at our own expense? The joyful warrior is not a happy man, but he is joyful. The Golden Knight, though already ketheric may have humour, as a by product of Joy divine. I mean we are not cracking jokes every time. Though Saint Thomas Aquinas' angels during Their incognito promenade over this very earth couldn't but explode with laughter anytine they saw a sinner. Were they St.Thomas as psychonalysis or extreme alter egos as Fernandism would say? Perhaps more than that. Perhaps infusions of Grace manifesting themselves beside the Saint.
And Jesus, indeed has not a Library, though He is the Living Book, osmotic, erratic, always inattendu,strange, its story not finished, the ultimate Odd friend, but maybe some may find Him by the shores of the heart and mind united, and these shores, sing, play music, they dance, and they´re are inner realms, older than Egypt, younger than the stars.And may I, Sir, gently remind you that Emmanuel is the name of the Presence of the Unnamable among us, even reaching the worst places of Malkut?


May you reach Christ Royal Peace,

Catullus Canopus

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Anonymous said...

Thanks for your beautiful comment. I should be a post. But it stays well besides mine, too.
I shall try to laugh more even if my laugh unveils a decayed mouth.
But I am afraid too of the vortex of this new means of communication.