Day 9
Easter: the Bunny poet has done her thing. Readying the day for O's visit.
There is a yellow iris in bloom in the front yard: perfectly timed. Many hibiscus flowers - red and peach-colored - front and back. And the bougainvillea is still thriving through it all: the scrawniest (at one time) the most hardy.
Shortly, we are off to Reconciliation.
The naked man returns: in fact, the sermon focuses upon him for a time. It was nice to see his return and hear Robert meditate on him for a while. Interesting points raised about the Mark gospel in general, its spareness, its "omissions" and the attempts to bollywoodize the narrative.
So, the women go to the tomb and instead of finding the body of Jesus, a young man in a white is seated there, with the information: seek him not here, go to Galilee. The simplicity of the man, and yet he has the information. Is he or is he not the naked man? Who are they? Interesting how much we can identify with him because of his anonymity.
I'm struck, for now, by the importance of not simply accepting or rejecting "the novel - the four part novel - of Jesus." The prayers, the liturgy, the narratives, if simply taken in by my all too active head, are easily dismissed, debunked, what have you. But, as paintings, they elude the brain, and work in deeper into the body, where I need (and seek) the healing. In the two unidentified men resides great mystery, and therefore great energy, and therefore they function as focal points for my attention, my deepest attention.
O was here through the afternoon for boureg and other goodies.
Still, the reservoir of unshed tears as I sit in the service at Reconciliation. The energy of the place is certainly chipping away at my antagonism/dismissal/indifference - yes, I know, an odd tribunal - regarding Jesus. I can feel a nearing to him, to the profound energy and message that he represents for me: the me that seeks, not the me in my thick skull.
A possibility: the - at least working - title of the current novel may be Galilee.
There is a yellow iris in bloom in the front yard: perfectly timed. Many hibiscus flowers - red and peach-colored - front and back. And the bougainvillea is still thriving through it all: the scrawniest (at one time) the most hardy.
Shortly, we are off to Reconciliation.
The naked man returns: in fact, the sermon focuses upon him for a time. It was nice to see his return and hear Robert meditate on him for a while. Interesting points raised about the Mark gospel in general, its spareness, its "omissions" and the attempts to bollywoodize the narrative.
So, the women go to the tomb and instead of finding the body of Jesus, a young man in a white is seated there, with the information: seek him not here, go to Galilee. The simplicity of the man, and yet he has the information. Is he or is he not the naked man? Who are they? Interesting how much we can identify with him because of his anonymity.
I'm struck, for now, by the importance of not simply accepting or rejecting "the novel - the four part novel - of Jesus." The prayers, the liturgy, the narratives, if simply taken in by my all too active head, are easily dismissed, debunked, what have you. But, as paintings, they elude the brain, and work in deeper into the body, where I need (and seek) the healing. In the two unidentified men resides great mystery, and therefore great energy, and therefore they function as focal points for my attention, my deepest attention.
O was here through the afternoon for boureg and other goodies.
Still, the reservoir of unshed tears as I sit in the service at Reconciliation. The energy of the place is certainly chipping away at my antagonism/dismissal/indifference - yes, I know, an odd tribunal - regarding Jesus. I can feel a nearing to him, to the profound energy and message that he represents for me: the me that seeks, not the me in my thick skull.
A possibility: the - at least working - title of the current novel may be Galilee.
posted by murat11 at 6:57 AM
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