Old Things Passing Away…


“Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about physics. You are all stardust.” — Lawrence Krauss

 Everything dies. And all things come to an end. But for now, the earth keeps spinning around the sun, that little yellow star in the backwater part of the western arm of our small galaxy. Someday, even the earth, the sun and all the stars of our galaxy will come to an end. But in ending, it will create something else. Every end is found in some beginning somewhere, and every beginning in some end.

Continue reading


A Celebration of the Body



“Rome was a flea market of borrowed gods and conquered peoples, a bargain basement on two floors, earth and heaven, a mass of filth convoluted in a triple knot as in an intestinal obstruction. Dacians, Herulians, Scythians, Sarmatians, Hyperboreans, heavy wheels without spokes, eyes sunk in fat, sodomy, double chins, illiterate emperors, fish fed on the flesh of learned slaves. There were more people in the world than there have ever been since, all crammed into the passages of the Coliseum, and all wretched. And then, into this tasteless heap of gold and marble, He came, light and clothed in an aura, emphatically human, deliberately provincial, Galilean, and at that moment gods and nations ceased to be and man came into being – man the carpenter, man the plowman, man the shepherd with his flock of sheep at sunset, man who does not sound in the least proud, man thankfully celebrated in all the cradle songs of mothers and in all the picture galleries the world over.” – Boris Pasternak

Merry Christmas! Today is a special day: a day where thousands of yards of wrapping paper gives up its life and beauty to the tearing hands of children; a day where unable-to-cope family members lose themselves in their poison of choice; a day when consumerism is celebrated throughout the western world in a gorging upon new gadgets, tools, toys, clothes and other necessities. I am sounding cynical, and I don’t want to sound or to be that. I am only saddened by these facts, because of what Christmas started out as and what it could be again: a deep, human celebration of being human, of our limited lives and of our bodies and of moral courage in the face of oppression. Christmas was the story of liberation, and I want it to be again.

Continue reading

The Gift of Peace: Christmas and the End of War



“This is a war universe. War all the time. That is its nature. There may be other universes based on all sorts of other principles, but ours seems to be based on war and games. All games are basically hostile. Winners and losers. We see them all around us: the winners and the losers. The losers can oftentimes become winners, and the winners can very easily become losers.” — William S Burroughs


War is not a gift. War does not make great men, nor does it make humanity great. War is destruction, and there is no glory in it. In the most just cases, it is unfortunate necessity, a lose-lose situation. War is not a game. War is not fun. War will end.


Continue reading

The Gift of Hope


“The nuns taught us there are two ways through life … the way of Nature… and the way of Grace. You have to choose which one you’ll follow. Grace doesn’t try to please itself. Accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked. Accepts insults and injuries. Nature only wants to please itself. Get others to please it too. Likes to lord it over them. To have its own way. It finds reasons to be unhappy… when all the world is shining around it… when love is smiling through all things. They taught us that no one who loves the way of grace… ever comes to a bad end. I will be true to you. Whatever comes.” — Mrs. Obrien in The Tree of Life

Does the world have hope? And how do we see it? To paraphrase the above quotation, which is itself a paraphrase of a quotation from Leibniz, there are two ways through life: the way of entropy and the way of hope. I use the word entropy because it captures the cosmic scale of how the way of nature plays out. Everything moves to dissipation, heat-death and ultimate darkness. But that is merely one way. There is another.

Continue reading

The Gift of Laughter and Tears


“Why do we laugh? Because it is a gravely religious matter: it is the Fall of Man. Only man can be absurd: for only man can be dignified.” — GK Chesterton

What are the greatest human emotions? Perhaps that question is far too broad. But I think that the answer is not too broad: joy and sorrow, often expressed in laughter and tears. These emotions are so completely demanding that our whole body must respond — the hearty laughter that rocks your whole body and the tears that flow interminably. Such expressions depart from any Stoic philosophy, and they are utterly human and are gifts in our humanity.

Continue reading

The Gift of Memory


“Memory can change the shape of a room; it can change the color of a car. And memories can be distorted. They’re just an interpretation, they’re not a record, and they’re irrelevant if you have the facts.” — Leonard Shelby, “Memento”

There is nothing outside the text! Thus rings the cry of deconstructionists everywhere. What it means is this: there is nothing outside of context, there is nothing outside of its place, however tangentially connected it might be; there is nothing outside of memory. If you’ve ever seen the movie Memento, you have encountered the questionability of memory, and despite Leonard’s best efforts to concretise his memories into “facts,” everything remains an interpretation: there is no brute foundation or secure grounding. He lives in and among the texts he has written and interpreted. We do the same.

Continue reading

The Gift of Time


“What then is time? If no one asks me, I know: if I wish to explain it to one that asks, I know not.” — St Augustine

Between now and Christmas, I am writing about different kinds of gifts. For today, it is the gift of time. In today’s world that is driven by the atomic clock and by the mathematization of time, we do not often view as a gift. It is at most a resource to be spent either wisely or foolishly, or it can be seen as a predator, stalking its prey — akin to death. I want to pull the rug out from under these interpretations. We cannot spend time, because we have not earned it. And time cannot be a predator against us, because it is the water in which we swim and live and move. We ourselves are little upsurges in time that give the world its meaning. Time, our time, is a gift.

Continue reading