{Quote: Nancy Pearcey}

"An evangelical radio commentator once advised his audience to take "the Da Vinci Code" and "throw it away." But putting blinds on is not the way to develop critical thinking. Nor is it the way to show love and compassion for the millions of people who were influenced by the book and who need to answer its false claims. Artists and writers are the most important conduit of worldviews."
Saving Leonardo by Nancy Pearcey, pg. 11



You don't really have to know me all that well to know that I love quotes. Whether they are the classic, brief, and yet keenly insightful observations by men such as Benjamin Franklin. The somewhat trite but still true sayings that everyone knows but nobody remembers to use. The less quote-able but equally insightful and thought provoking points made by professors. Or poetry and song lyrics, whose poignant word pictures cloy at the heart and imagination and resonate with parts of ourselves we hadn't previously been able to put into words.


{Disconnect to Connect}

Thailand released this commercial Disconnect to Connect. It's a beautifully done and much needed reminder for so many people, myself included.


{Intellectual Honesty}

Politico just recently posted a fascinating article by Michael Kinsley entitled Being Honest Is The Least Of It, addressing the elusive quality of intellectual honesty. A virtue he described as, "being truthful about what’s going on inside your own head."

If you take any time consider the idea it's almost impossible not to realize both the absolute importance as well as its positively shameful neglect in politics as well as in the day to day. Compromise and intellectual dishonestly have become a prevalent facet of every day life; as we reason that our little white lies pay off when you consider our cause for the greater good. But Kinsley counters that by stating,


{vagaries and impersonality}

It's been a long time since I last wrote. I think I've mentioned before that I'm skittish when it comes to blogging. I hate recanting anything I write, and so I chose to simply say nothing. I write posts and essays in my head constantly, but the number of times any of them have actually been posted anywhere or even typed out could be counted on one hand.

But I've started reading a few friends blogs, a few fashion blogs, and a few of those deep and intimidating blogs like Al Mohler's and Justin Taylor's. And I'm inspired once again to try blogging. I've decided to be varied this time, rather than trying to have a blog dedicated to one specific subject and that subject alone, as I tend to hit dead ends rather quickly when I do that.

There may be posts about books, philosophy, pop music, shoes, words I dislike, and how I feel about house plants. There really is no telling where my mind may go.



We never know how high we are
till we are asked to rise
and then if we are true to plan
our statures touch the skies-

The Heroism we recite
would be a normal thing
did not ourselves the Cubits warp
for fear to be a King-



I'm feeling a touch pensive tonight. Mostly out of tiredness I dare say, and a want for sunlight. It's less than a month into winter and it already feels that the grey clouds have been present for an eternity. I have never had a particularly great affection for rain, I get cold easily and raindrops feel like ice on my skin.

But still, it's one of those weary, sad evenings when you just want to curl up, bury your face in your hands, and lose yourself amid your thoughts.


pictures. . .

a picture's worth a thousand words,
they say, (or so i've heard).
but "they" have never stop't to feel,
the meaning hid within a word.

the depth and breadth of-- 'love' cannot,
be caught in mere brushstrokes.
just as a microscope can't show,
the grandeur of the mighty oaks.



A bit of silliness really...

I am not entirely certain why I am beginning a blog again, I am quite terrible at it. I must have five of them lying about in various corners of the internet, all quite dusty with neglect. But it seems I don't learn my lessons very well, for I am here again. Starting anew.

I am not very good at composing posts, particularly the first ones. But as they say with writing books, you can't write your fifth book until you've written the previous four. So I cannot jump into having my ideal blog until long after I've written my first post.

I cannot promise that this shall be a very good blog. In fact, I am convinced it shall be a very bad one, probably quite self-centred and utterly dull. But I've got a great deal of life that I'm sorting through, and I thought that perhaps blogging might help me organize it out into something that would seem vaguely logical.

I am not the blogging type or the journaling sort. I tend to express myself through creating things. When I'm happy I bake or cook. If I'm sad or introspective I paint. When I'm lonely I sew. If I'm feeling solitary and introspective I write poetry (very bad poetry that tends to veer from irreverent and nonchalant to rather morose and depressing). And, very occasionally I do something else, although neither I nor anyone else can ever be quite sure what it may be.

Anyway, this is my very inconsequential blog. It shall likely be a disorganized array of quotes, poetry, impertinent opinions, pictures, paintings, and odd musings. Read it at thine own peril.