Sunday, April 29, 2007
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Adventures in Albion
Weep, weep O Walsingam, Whose dayes are nightes,
Blessings turned to blasphemies, Holy deedes to dispites.
Sinne is where our Ladye sate, Heaven turned is to helle;
Sathan sitte where our Lord did swaye,
Walsingam, oh, farewell!
3 comments:
(1) Stop that. Stop that right now. Never write again about your "raw feelings." Published writing is not for venting. It is for recollecting in tranquility. I somehow think you made this mistake before, which is why it is not clear you can be trusted with a Blog!
(2) For the first point of your meditation, consider what it means to be in via, a viator, a peregrina, an exile in this vale of tears. Stop feeling sorrow for yourself as if God designed the human condition or the unfolding of his providential plan of history to thwart you personally. Quite the contrary.
(3) For the second point, consider St Philip Neri: "Men are often the carpenters of their own crosses."
(4) For the third point, cf. Dorothy's speech at the end of the Wizard of Oz (movie version).
Get a grip, girl.
Well. Seeing as Fr. Cross has suitably applied the necessary spiritual medicine, I shall only rep[ort that I have successfully accepted your gracious invitation.
Fr McDonald
Did I miss something? Dang.
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