Looking at the old

I passed a church building this morning. It seemed like it had been built in the 1960s, judging from its architectural style. It was red brick and looked formal with its white pillars in front of the main entrance.  It looked as old as its 50 years of age  because the white of the pillars was chipped and somewhat faded.  The brick didn't have any luster. Rather, it had stains in places, faded patches in other places, turning the red to brown and rust. The windows were very much the old style, with panes like houses, just like the 50-year-old style it was.  There were no cars around it. But the lawn looked kept and the parking lot had been recently repaved.  Everything looked to be in pristine condition.

That reminds me so much of religion.  It's really old, but it has been kept up well for the 2000 years it has existed (the church was Christian).  The people practice it well if they are anything like the building's condition.  But, religion is old and has to be patched and repaved, interpreted and reapplied for each age.  Stains from past storms are apparent like the crusades and the reformation and the Age of Enlightenment.  Religion is good for its rules, but bad because of them also just like the church building was beautiful in its time, but its beauty doesn't hold for much more than the generation that built it.

Maybe it's ok for religion to be like an old, out-of-place building in a modern neighborhood, but it seems that the message of the Son of God never belonged in a building in the first place for a comparison like mine to be written about.

To days of pizzazz

Today was one of those mundane working days.  Nothing outstanding happened.  Nothing tragic happened.  Nothing happened to make it a particularly satisfying day or a rather sour, dull day.  The day just happened.  Everyone did exactly what they were supposed to do, and the day went without a hitch.

There was a time when every morning and evening the day didn't just happen. It happened with pizzazz.  I would hear laughter, I would see the day's bright scenes with full enjoyment of them, and drink in smiles and words of encouragement and great contentment.  I hold those days in the highest place in my life.

But, today was mundane as have been the 450 days before them.  It's ok for the moment, I suppose.  Things get done.  Money gets made.  Children and grandchildren continue to grow and mature.  Life happens.  But, my memory serves me that there have been days of glory.

It all depends

                               

When it comes to matters of law, a person has a choice to say I will need a lawyer or I will need an attorney. To most people, the two words are identical synonyms without a shade of difference between them.  When second language learners pick up English, one of the questions they ask is if the two words mean the same thing.  If the teacher answers "yes," then the next questions is, "Which word is more common?"  Well, that's a little hard to say.

Sometimes words used in a language are given preferential status by the people.  For example, "Are you through?" is used much more than, "Are you finished?" or more than, "Did you complete the task?"  It's not that the second two phrases aren't used; it's that people have a preference.  Preferential status may also vary by region.  In the state of Rhode Island, a waiter in a restaurant will ask you, "Are you (all) set?" if (s)he wants to know if you are finished ordering or if you are finished with the meal.  They don't prefer, "Are you through?" at all.

So, when it comes to the lawyer~attorney alternation, which term has attained preferential status?  In the 1800s Hemingway, Emerson, Twain, and others represented the educated elite in America.  They thought of words that sounded French, were a French loanword, or that had a French origin as a sign of sophistication.  That philosophy is not prevalent today, but sometimes attitudes toward words have a way of sticking around.  Attorney derives from the French verb meaning "to turn to," while lawyer derives from Anglo-Saxon meaning "one who is the law."  Is it true, then, that French derived attorney sounds more sophisticated than Anglo-Saxon lawyer?  My limited experience in the northeast of the U.S. gave me the idea that they preferred attorney.  My experience in Texas is that the word lawyer is preferred.  And, my travels around the U.S. give me the sense that whichever word is used depends on the person you are speaking to (his/her background, his/her origin, his/her formal training, his/her profession, etc.).

Does it really matter?  Not unless you're a foreign language teacher.  But I have noticed that this kind of alternation occurs in nearly all matters of life. It appears that most everything depends on the people around you and their origin, background, professions, education, and worldview.  And in intimate situations, when compatibility is so important, preferences cannot be overstated.  Choosing compatibility with someone over all other types of bonds that connect people, especially in the intimate situation, is the one point that makes or breaks the friendship or relationship... more than religion only, more than philosophy of life only, more than profession only, more than spending habits only, more than outlook on raising children, treatment of in-laws, on and on.

Anymore if people should ask what I think they should do or not do, I say, "It depends."  People, I think, want to hear some firm and fast principles, but I just don't see that they are there anymore.  Maybe I should ask, "Do you use the word attorney or lawyer?" and then make the point about "it depends."

In the tradition of Chaucer

It would be hard to imagine sitting in a church building somewhere on February 14th singing songs or chanting liturgy dedicated to the honor of a martyr of Rome who lived circa 268 ACE.  He was taken prisoner for helping persecuted Christians during the third century.  While he was in prison, he healed his jailor's daughter from blindness.  This came to the attention of the emperor of Rome, Claudius II, who then sent for him to discuss his miracle.  Claudius told him he needed to pay homage to the Roman gods instead of giving credit to a pagan god for this miracle.  The man returned the favor by asking Claudius to switch to the Christian God, the only true God.  For that Claudius ordered his swift execution.

Well, it could be that February 14th would be celebrated as a religious holiday because the martyr's name was St. Valentine.  In different martyrologies a couple of other Valentines surfaced for their religioius service and subsequent martyrdoms, but the above story is the one that is venerated.  Chanting liturgy to honor St. Valentine lasted until the 1380s when Geoffrey Chaucer wrote a poem about lovers, using the metaphor of birds gathering to choose their mates on St. Valentine's day.  Oh, from then on, February 14th was all about lovers rather than martyrs.  In some very famous letters, (The Pastons) from 1477, a young woman called her boyfriend her valentine.  And in 1600, in DeVere's Hamlet, Ophelia mentioned that she was Hamlet's valentine, probably meaning he had made love to her, but at least meaning that he wanted to make love to her.

Let the good times roll.  It's 2014.  Valentine's Day is all about loving our one true loves.  So, in the tradition of Chaucer, I send out this song:

I learned to dance

Geoffrey Chaucer is best known for his Canterbury Tales, but without him, we might not have the Valentine's Day as it is celebrated today.  It all began with a poem he wrote sometime in the 1380s, The Parlement of Foules, wherein he speaks of a time of the year (Valentine's Day) when birds would choose their mates.  It became a symbolic time of year for love after this point.  Thank you Geoffrey Chaucer.

So, at this time of the year, I want to say thank you to the one who taught me to dance at the risk of breaking my heart, who woke me from a dream to take a chance, who allowed my soul to escape certain death to live so freely.  I know for sure that love is not only for the lucky and the strong, but that the seed far below the winter's snow, becomes a rose with the sun's warmth.  I thank you a million times over!!!

Visibility

Driving to work early this morning,, I had to exit on a ramp to change freeways.  I do this everyday, so it is really something routine.  The ramp is elevated and is one of the tallest in the whole area.  But today, driving conditions were not normal.  Fog was very thick.  Visibility was about 50 yards, a little less at some points.  As I exited, I looked up at the curve in the ramp which arcs at 90 degrees to make the switch from the north-south freeway to the east-west freeway.  I should've expected it, but I still was somewhat surprised to see that the ramp disappeared from view up into the fog.  I was reminded of skyscrapers and mountaintops that do the same thing.

I drove up into the cloud and wasn't able to see the ground below where the other freeway was supposed to be.  It gave me that mystic feeling for a few moments, like Merlin the wizard really existed and was about to send me to another place in the world.

It's been a while since I've been in the clouds.  It was fun to have a change in the routine.  It reminded me of places in our journeys that seem routine when, all of a sudden, there is a change and you can't really see the way clearly.  I just trusted that the road really was there in the sky, that the next 20 yards that I could see would lead to the 20 yards ahead of that that I couldn't see, and that the exchange of freeways would not be problematic, but smooth even though the conditions were very different from the norm and there was no chance that I could see that far ahead.  Life really does get that way at times.  You can't see the way much ahead of your next step, but the road beneath is so familiar that you have learned to trust your whereabouts regardless of the conditions.

What's ahead in life?  Who knows... but the road beneath is very familiar.

Hanging with the fine arts crowd

This graduation ceremony was really different!

The people making up the fine arts community are a breed apart from the others of us who fall into the safer, less risk-taking sector.  I showed up to watch a friend graduate.  She was one of four.  The whole school of about 60 students had shown up for the graduation.  I have never seen so many bangles and baubles, rings and piercings, tatoos and splotch-colored hair in one place.  But, the hair was the main event.  It was all about the hair - short, shaved, mohawk, faux-hawk, bobbed, tousled, frizzed, wavy - every single style possible was represented.

I was definitely a fish out of water at this graduation.  My style is very staid, conservative, blase, and without risk.  And at a place all about hair, mine stood out since it was naturally colored, had no section of it two-toned, and was not faux-anything.

But, I enjoyed the zaniness of the event.  It made me reflect on what life is really about... people who are comfortable with themselves, who don't particularly care for playing social games, who respect another person's style as much as their own, and who have a talent to offer those who aren't in their own community.

I need to go to a hair stylist graduation more often.  This one was from Toni & Guy's Academy.  It was a well done graduation.  It impressed me to have a little more flair, to live a little, to have broader horizons, and to simply enjoy the environment I have chosen and the people I have allowed in it.