TEGEN DE WERELD

"I shall here write my thoughts without order, and not perhaps in unintentional confusion; that is true order, which will always indicate my object by its very disorder. I should do too much honour to my subject, if I treated it with order, since I want to show that it is incapable of it" (Pascal, Pensees 373).

"Music is the movement of sound to reach the soul for the education of its virtue" (Plato, Republic).

Now Spinning the Finest in Funk

"The heritage of values which has been received and handed down is always challenged...To challenge does not necessarily mean to destroy or reject a priori, but above all to put these values to the test in one's own life, and through this existential verification to make them more real, relevant and personal, distinguishing the valid elements in the tradition from false and erroneous ones, or from obsolete forms which can be usefully replaced by others more suited to the times" (John Paul II, Centesimus Annus).

"If there were no obscurity, man would not be sensible of his corruption; if there were no light, man would not hope for a remedy. Thus, it is not only fair, but advantageous to us, that God be partly hidden and partly revealed; since it is equally dangerous to man to know God without knowing his own wretchedness, and to know his own wretchedness without knowing God" (Pascal, Pensees 686).

Cryptography is the study of means of converting information from comprehensible form into an incomprehensible format--the art of encryption. In the past, cryptography helped ensure secrecy in important communications, such as those of spies.

Icon (n): a graphic symbol that denotes a program or a command or a data file or a concept in a graphical user interface; a visual representation of an object or scene or person or abstraction produced on a surface; a religious image on a small panel--venerated in the Eastern Church.

If I could through myself / Set your spirit free / I'd lead your heart away / See you break, break away / Into the light / And to the day.

Svjatyj Bozhe, Svjatyj Krjepkij, Svjatyj Bezsmertnyj, Pomiluj nas.

Tegen de Wereld 26 June 2014.

29 april 2006

"Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's
good."

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

27 april 2006

Rastaewe

Tegen de Wereld: still blogging strong

26 april 2006

Acrocanthosaurus

The second-worst president in American history

Kyrie Eleison

Ma ficca li occhi a valle, ché s’approccia
la riviera del sangue in la qual bolle
qual che per vïolenza in altrui noccia.

Inferno, Canto XII

A father in Iraq

A mother in Jerusalem

Black and yellow argiope

18 april 2006

1906 survivors

Any questions?

17 april 2006

Tegen de Wereld: fighting internet corn since April 2005

Twenty seconds, so they say...

Easter grapes

Bright Monday

16 april 2006

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His Flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that – pierced – died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

John Updike, "Seven Stanzas at Easter"