Ash Thursday

It amazes me to think that I’m living in a city where it rains ash.

I’m not kidding. Yesterday night the ash rain started. Little sighs from the Chaitén volcano that has left so many people without a home.

Below are pics taken during a storm in the middle of the night, as the Chaitén volcano erupted (link to the site at the bottom of this post).

Chaitén Volcano Chaitén Volcano

Luckily the government is giving a monthly salary to the people that lost everything and paying for their rent while they stay in a city nearby (my city). These are people that have lost houses, vehicles, clothes… they just got out of bed one morning, got dressed and were evacuated. Their situation is still unclear. If they cannot go back to Chaitén, then they will have to be relocated and start over (the worst case scenario) with a government fund (which is never big enough).

A sad, sad situation.

Going back to the ash rain, as it fell, I just stood there, looking at the sky, holding out my hand…

Nah, just kidding. =)

The ash rain is barely noticeable. You mainly see it on the hoods of cars after they’ve been parked for about an hour. Nevertheless, it’s still raining ash.

Chile… what an odd place it is.

*Pics taken from this site.

…as Wallace Stevens put it “It was evening all afternoon”

…one of the best ways, I think, to learn to appreciate the little things of life a little more, is to look at the sky more often. especially evening skies are great.  The sky is an ever-changing mozaic, and I never get bored with looking at clouds.
Now, my photos are just random snapshots taken with a cell-phone, but i’d nonetheless still like to share today’s evening sky:



poem of the week: a middle english lyric

If anyone were to ask me what kind of poetry is my favorite, i’d definitely reply “middle english lyrics”. they have an intensity and a directness which is unlike anything else I’ve ever read, and because they’re often songs, they’re very easy on the ears.
If you know Jeff Buckley you may recognize this song: his gorgeous interpretation of Benjamin Britten’s version of it can be found on the album Grace.
For a translation of some of the words and for more lyrics and info, go here.

The Corpus Christi Carol

Lully, lullay, lully, lullay,

The faucon hath borne my make away.

He bare him up, he bare him down,

He bare him into an orchard brown.

In that orchard ther was an hall

That was hanged with purple and pall.

And in that hall ther was a bed:

It was hanged with gold so red.

And in that bed ther lith a knight,

His woundes bleeding by day and night.

By that beddes side ther kneeleth a may,

And she weepeth both night and day.

And by that beddes side ther standeth a stoon:

Corpus Christi writen thereon.

Back on WordPress

Mainly because… we like it more than blogger, even if we cannot use our own subdomain.

a medieval legend about St. Augustine.

 by Benezzo Gozzoli

The more you read St. Augustine’s books, the more you become a fan of his: The Confessions are quite amazing and I can’t wait to read his other works.
On a less canonical note, in that gorgeous 15th century book of saints’  lives by Jacobus de Voragine, called Legenda Aurea or The Golden Legend, an amazing story about St. Augustine is found. Taken from this book was translated by William Caxton, the first English printer. You may perhaps find the style old-fashioned, but I didnt have the heart to change anything about it.

Many other miracles hath God showed by his life, and also after his death, which were overlong to write in this book, for they would, I suppose, contain a book as much as all this and more, but among other corrections, I will set herein one miracle, which I have seen painted on an altar of Saint Austin at the black frirs at Antwerp, howbeit I find it not in the legend, mine exemplar, neither in English, French, ne in Latin. It was so that this glorious doctor made and compiled many volumes, as afore is said, among whom he made a book of the Trinity, in which he studied and mused sore in his mind, so far forth that on a time as he went by tbe sea-side in Africa, studying on theTrinity, he found by the sea-side a little child which had made a little pit in the sand, and in his hand a little spoon. And with the spoon he took out water of the large sea and poured it into the pit. And when Saint Augustin beheld him he marvelled, and demanded him what he did. And he answered and said: I will lade out and bring all this water of the sea into this pit. What? said he, it is impossible, how may it be done, sith the sea is so great and large, and thy pit and spoon so little? Yes, forsooth, said he, I shall lightlier and sooner draw all the water of the sea and bring it into this pit than thou shalt bring the mystery of the Trinity and his divinity into thy little understanding as to the regard thereof; for the mystery of the Trinity is greater and larger to the comparison of thy wit and brain than is this great sea unto this little pit. And therewith the child vanished away. Then here may every man take ensample that no man, and especially simple lettered men, ne unlearned, presume to intermit ne to muse on high things of the godhead, farther than we be informed by our faith, for our only faith shall suffice us.