bull horns

Just now on the bus I saw a man wearing the following items on his head: a toque, 2 hats (backwards and forwards), 2 pairs of large DJ headphones, and some fake bull horns. I feel sorry for his neck. And also for the unlucky person who is sure to get poked in the eye by his bull horns one day.

humbled

The other night, while walking around the mall downtown, I saw someone I know who is currently homeless. He was in line in the food-court waiting to buy his supper. Mentally and emotionally exhausted from the day, I pretended I didn't see him. But he called me by name. Then he insisted on buying me supper. I knew for a fact that he only had a little bit of welfare money to his name which he had received that morning. But he insisted. So we ate together. The most humbling meal of my life.

After supper, he went off to line up at the Hope Mission for the night to sleep on a mat.

And I proceeded to walk around downtown in the dark, re-evaluating my entire life.

the wind

a windstorm is coming.

the clouds are dark, dark, dark, and thick. the sunlight is brilliant and clear. orange and yellow treetrops set aflame. white-washed walls blinding in the contrast.

stirring now, up in the trees.

it's coming.

confessions

A literary post.

I love classical literature. You know, those dusty, antiquated Greek and Latin texts dating back a couple of millennia. I'm not going to pretend that I'm highly schooled in the area. I've only read a handful of these books. But when I take the time, I just soak them in and can't get enough. There's just something about these works that reaches me in a way modern literature never can. I think one of the biggest things for me is realizing the huge time gap that exists between the time the work was written to the present day when I'm reading it, and finding that it is still completely relevant, insightful, revealing, and comforting to me, even though it was written thousands of years before I even came into existence. And then to think of the author actually sitting down and writing the book so many centuries ago, papers sprawled out on some ancient table, hunched and poring over each page, scribbling down each word by hand, pausing to work out an idea, scratching out a section, taking a bathroom break; it all fascinates me to no end. It makes me feel alive, connected to the past, and comforted that there exists some old, robust wisdom to speak into what seems at times like a tragic spiritual and intellectual blindness of the modern age.

One of my favourite books of this era (which I'm currently re-reading, thus the impetus for this post) is the Confessions written in the 5th century AD by Aurelius Augustine (pictured above). Augustine, the most famous of Catholic saints, had an immense influence on the development of the western Church through his extensive writings and his role as Bishop of Hippo. His mammoth The City of God, written near the end of his life, is considered his most important work in terms of the laying out of church ethics and doctrine - possibly the most influential theological work of all time. It also features Augustine at his most pessimistic, or, one might say, his grouchiest.

Confessions, however, is a completely different literary animal. Written in his 40's while serving as Bishop, the first half of the book showcases a vibrant and detailed description of his life from his first memories on to his conversion to Christianity in his early 30's. The format of this section is one of continual exchange between Augustine's intimate prayers to God and his recollection of memories from certain periods of his life: the good, the bad, the painful, the shameful. In essence, it is a prayerful confession to God of his life prior to his conversion. He describes his early years in study, the vanity of his career in the teaching of rhetoric (a self-described "salesman of words" - loved that), his commitment to and subsequent disillusionment with the Manichee sect, his falling in love with and long-term commitment to a concubine who gave birth to his illegitimate son, his search for truth through neo-platonic philosophy, and his eventual conversation to the Christian faith in a garden in Milan. Pretty intense. But a fascinating life. The second part of the book sees Augustine wrestling both theologically and philosophically with concepts of time, eternity, memory, and biblical interpretation. Throughout the whole piece he seamlessly weaves theological and philosophical inquiries, captivating recollections, fervent prayers, and refreshing insights. The tone is at times serious, playful, humorous, and always eloquent (a rhetorician by trade, this man knew how to spin a sentence).

Confessions is a fascinating and worthwhile read. It has a simple and straightforward nature that can be appreciated by any reader while displaying great depth that can be mulled over and studied at length. In fact, my very secular Introduction to Philosophy professor at the University of Winnipeg taught directly out of the first 9 chapters of Confessions since he felt it contained many fundamental principles of philosophy (this was not a terribly popular move among my classmates who were studying philosophy in order to debase religion). That was actually my first introduction to this book. And when I think of it, it's kind of funny that I had to go to university to finally encounter this masterpiece of such deep faith and insight, meanwhile the shelves at my church library were stuffed with the likes of the Left Behind series, Veggie Tales videos, and Christian romance novels.

All to say, I highly recommend Augustine's Confessions for anyone with an interest in theology and/or neo-platonic philosophy, or even for anyone just looking for something with a bit more depth than your average Blue Like Jazz (no offense to Donald Miller - love that man). The translation by Henry Chadwick published through Oxford World's Classics is highly readable with great footnotes.

if violence were a geometric shape...

Yesterday behind my work I saw a man hit a woman (his girlfriend). He was big and drunk. She was small and distraught. I broke it up. She ran away crying, saying "it's over".

Today I saw the same man and woman. This time they were tag-teaming on another woman. Kicking her, hitting her. I had to run in and break it up.

Still trying to get my head around that one.

new night, old moon

new streets
new walls
new light
new halls
new sounds
new floors
new locks
new doors
new dirt
new seeds
new shrubs
new weeds
new words
new tune
new night
old moon.

i have a bike, you can ride it if you like...

I've just returned from my first bike ride of spring. It was great. The roads were mostly dry, the sun was shining, and the air was not all that cold. The only bad part was that it cost me a whole dollar at the gas station to fill my tires with air. A dollar for air? The economy must be bad.

I intend on making biking a big part of my commuting life this summer. I just need to get a new-old bike that's a bit more of a comfortable ride than my Sears FreeSpirit (now 60% without brakes) and I'll be on my way.