Deus, Deus meus (ps. 22), plainchant.
O God, my God, answer me: Why have you forsaken me?
[Why are you so] Far from the words of my supplication?
My God, I shall cry out and you do not hear…
One of the (many) things that annoys me about popular culture and its interaction with music and with religion is the idea that ‘Latin chanting’ is ‘ominous’. Much like Toccata and Fugue being ‘scary’, this seems to me a received opinion which can only be assented to by switching off your critical faculties. Permanently.
The above is not ‘ominous’. Its subject is heavy, yes, but its timbre is consoling. The idea of ‘ominous Latin chanting’ is idiot. It presupposes a kind of nonsense worldview where inquisitors roamed the land, announcing their presence by chanting meaningless drivel to terrify the peasants (inquisitions are too large a topic to cover here, but suffice to say that the popular image of the inquisition is best contradicted by pointng out that they were generally staffed by lawyers, not illiterate fanatics.)
When, in the Middle Ages, would an ordinary person have heard chanted Latin? Most likely, every week, at Church on a Sunday. (The medieval obligation for Church on a Sunday usually included Matins and Vespers as well as Mass).
What was this chanting for? To praise God. Who would have chanted? Mainly, bishops, priests, and monks, but for much of the Mass and the Office, anyone who knew the chant was probably expected to join in. (That this gradually stopped being the case likely has more to do with the development of polyphonic, choral settings of the Ordinary, and a reaction to the Reformation and its emphasis on popular participation.)
The idea that the sound of brief respite from work, the sound of engaging in the public religion, and in likely the only arstistic experience you might ever be involved in was "ominous" is… beyond stupid. But it betrays (a) the popular and arrogant assumption of knowledge on the basis of ego, and (b) the extent to which popular impressions are badly distorted.
Via Deserts of vast eternity
Satan you are an idiot.
Via A Beautiful Day
mylifewithsocialanxiety-deactiv said: Why be pro-life? I mean, do you know what hyperemesis gravidarum, pre-eclampsia, and ectopic pregnancies are? Do you know how physically hellish pregnancy can be for a woman? Do you know all of the different ways that pregnancy can cause mental and emotional distress to a woman? Do you know how emotionally scarring it can be to give a child up for adoption? Or do you just not care about any of that, which proves that your views on this issue are incredibly hateful?
Via A Beautiful Day
Do I know how physically hellish pregnancies can be? I got pregnant with my first son when I was 17 years old. I was the top of my class, dating my high school sweet heart for 3 years (Mr. prom king himself). I was a cheerleader, varsity team since I was a freshman, runner up for Miss Wallace, and the school “artist”. When I got pregnant, absolutely everyone around me told me I should get an abortion. My boyfriend and his parents, my parents and my friends, and every single one of my teachers (who I considered my friends). I wanted to keep my son, but every day I got pulled out of class, pestered by my teachers to get an abortion, that they would drive me to the clinic themselves, that “nobody would have to know”. I was firm on my decision. I wanted to keep my son. I was harassed to get an abortion until I was about 6 months pregnant, in which at that point I was rejected by my family and friends, and my teachers. To make matters worse, I began to get a pain in my leg that was so severe I couldn’t stop vomiting. I went to the E.R. and they found that I had a D.V.T. Deep vein thrombosis. After several tests they confirmed that I had 2 types of blood disorders, that are so severe I need to be on anti coagulants for the rest of my life, so severe that any pregnancy is life threatening. The doctors urged me to get an abortion, and once again I refused. I was admitted into the hospital for 2 weeks, with the only anticoagulant approved during pregnancies: lovenox. Lovenox is a shot to the stomach that you take every 12 hours, for the remainder of the pregnancy and 2 months after. The feeling of a D.V.T when it completely clots your leg, is like hooking up a hose to the inside of your leg, filling it up with water until your skin is ready to burst, then plugging the hole. It is beyond excruciating. To deliver my son, was even more dangerous. When you are on blood thinners, your blood is kept 10 x thinner then the average person, so I was at an extreme bleeding risk. If for some reason I needed a c-section, or I had other problems, I could have simply hemorrhaged to death. I delivered my healthy baby boy a few months later, the delivery went wonderful. After I had my son, I went to school at the University of Idaho, to study physiology. Here is a photo of my son, who is now 8 years old. He plays the piano, enjoys legos, minecraft, speaks 3 languages and by his choice is a vegan. He is vibrant and compassionate and loves to make others happy, in the morning when I wake up he makes coffee, and occasionally leaves notes under my bedroom door telling me how much he loves me. He always fights for the smaller person, loves babies and children, and tells me that he cannot wait to get married (often asks me how to get a wife lol). This is the face of the boy that every one I knew told me to abort.
But dear, that isn’t it. When my son was very young, I began to date a man and we were intimate very early in our relationship. He was much older then I was, and he told me he was sterile. He lied. After we had been dating for 2 months I became pregnant again. He was unsupportive of the pregnancy. He urged me to get an abortion. I refused. And so began the abuse. At first it was just control of my life. He took away friends, family. Then he took away my car, my phone, my job. He stole my life. Eventually the abuse became so severe I tried to run away. I bundled my son up in a winter coat and began to walk. We lived in a very first class neighborhood, and he was very well respected, and very well off. When the cops picked me up they told me that if I tried that again, they would take my son away. Then he locked me in a bathroom for 3 days. When I finally cut a hole in the window screen, and climbed down off the roof to run across the street he grabbed me by the neck and tried to kill me. I can barely remember what happened, all I know is there was not one part on my body that was not injured bruised. After months of trying to escape, I finally was able to contact my mother who took me in. But that wasn’t the end of it. When I was about 5 months pregnant, I began to feel a sharp stabbing in my chest when I inhaled. I went to the E.R. They found a Pulmonary embolism in my lungs (blood clot in my lungs). These are extremely fatal. This part of the story is similar, I was admitted into the hospital, I took a shot ever 12 hours into my stomach, and after months finally delivered my second son. He is 7 years old. Here is a photo of my son. For his safety the photo I attached he is actually about 4 years old. He is a very quiet and gentle little boy. He literally cannot kill a fly (he catches them and throws them outside), he enjoys cuddling, hugging random strangers (unfortunately), praying, and day dreaming. I have personally never met anyone who is as sweet, unselfish, gentle, and loving as him. He loves to pray, and also loves scary things like ghosts and skeletons because they are “misunderstood”.
After I got my life back together, I married a wonderful man. After we were married for sometime, I got pregnant with my daughter. During this pregnancy I had a D.V.T and a P.E. I was hospitalized for nearly a month hooked up to machines to make sure my heart did not stop (the clots pass through the heart before they are thrown into the lungs). The doctors threatened to sterilize me without my permission. They called me “selfish” for wanting to keep my child. They told me that I was a bad mother because I wanted to keep my child. I delivered my princess, my vibrant, brilliant daughter. She has the longest most beautiful hair I have ever seen, she is soft spoken but wild and a true lady like little girl.
The Doctors told me they weren’t worth dying for. All the suffering I went through, all the shots I took, the bruises in my belly, It means nothing. In fact the second I held them in my arms I nearly forgot all of it. It meant nothing in comparison to the PEOPLE they are.
But dear, that isn’t the end of the story. A few months ago I had a pain in my leg that i noticed while at work. it wouldnt go away and got worse and worse. I went to the E.R. and they found not only a D.V.T that went up my leg, but also giant bi-lateral clots (P.E. in both lungs). But that’s not all they found. I also found out that I am expecting <3 I spent a few weeks in the hospital. It has been difficult to breath but I get a long just fine (it feels as if I am constantly out of breath from running). I am taking my shots, every day, in my stomach to be sure that the clots desolve, and that I don’t get anymore. And this February I will meet my child, my little person.
I’m 26 years old. I own a home, I live a wonderful life. I am well educated, I own a business, I have a family, and it is ONLY because of my children that I have pushed myself. It is ONLY because of my children that I have lived the life I have, that I never gave up. A lot of anti-pro lifers ask me, why would you risk your life for your “fetus”? Because this life in me, isn’t a fetus, its a child, its a person. And there is no greater glory to a Mother, then to give her life for the life of her child. I’m not scared of pregnancy, I’m not scared of death. I live a beautiful simple life, full of love and joy. I am satisfied at 26 to the point I feel I have lived a 1000 years of happiness. So, to answer you question, do I know how difficult pregnancy is? Absolutely. In fact, I am my obgyns FAVORTIE patient. I see 4 doctors every other week, and take weekly blood tests. My stomach is covered with bruises from the injections, bruises that I have to shove a needle back into to inject again and again. And I would do it all over. Any ‘pro choicer’ has absolutely NO right to speak for women who have life threatening pregnancies. Any ‘pro choicer’ has absolutely NO RIGHT to speak about the value of children, when you have never even held your own. You want to speak for women who want abortions? Speak for another group, because I have met women who would and have risked their life to have a pregnancy that wasn’t “convenient”. You telling me about emotional, mental and physical stress of a pregnancy, when I lied in a hospital when I was 17 months old mocked by every one I loved while i lived in fear of death? You are telling me that I just don’t “care” about any of that, that it proves that my views are hateful? Think again. When I risk my lives for my children, I do it because my love is completely unselfish. Because WHO am I to decide that my life is more valuable than anyone else life? Who am I? They were worth it. I promise you.
Meet Portia, born Feb 9th.
"Community has pulled off one the most patient easter egg: in one episode of each of the first three seasons, the word "Beetlejuice" was used off-handedly in a joke. If you’ve seen the movie Beetlejuice, the titular mischievous ghost would appear in the world of the living if anyone said his name three times. So, sure enough, on the third mention by a Community character, this guy appears in the background for exactly two seconds. They patiently waited three years to reach that punchline."
Via trek yourself before you wreck yourself
If you want to know how much God hates sin, look at the cross.
If you want to know how much God loves sinners, look at the cross.
Technology then and now
at first i thought it was the same number then I noticed it said GB and damn
As one of the tech review magazines said a few years ago when the first 32 GB micro SD cards came out, “At last it is possible for a single human being to accidentally swallow all of the data collected by the Apollo Program.”
now that is a review
It is through conversation that we dicover how to relate the story of a community and that of the individual. Such conversations necessarily pass through moments of puzzlement, of resistance, as I discover that other people do not accept the image that I have of who I am. This is the labour of becoming someone. Walter Davis wrote that ‘the self is not a substance one unearths by peeling away layers until one gets to the core, but an integrity one struggles to bring into existence’.
The failure of Enlightenment attempts to justify morality will explain our own culture.– Alasdair MacIntyre (via crematedadolescent) Via oo the death of god dollar big dollar huge dollar