Showing posts with label Marilynne Robinson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marilynne Robinson. Show all posts

Saturday 17 November 2012

Branding instead of Beauty

It's the third day of my Nativity Fast, and I'm feeling fond of emotional capitalization. At least, I think so. The weather is cooling, though not cold, as though the days are a preface to sacredness, but not the Thing itself. I have to admit that I'm awful at fasting. Why do I even attempt it? I think one day I'll move past the rudimentary acquisition of discipline and begin to gain something from these moments of self-denial. I've begun reading through Isaiah, which seems fitting, because it starts out in a tone as morbid as my own feelings. Oh, how my thoughts are wandering just now. Yesterday, I finished re-reading Home, by St. Marilynne Robinson, and I feel closely connected to the character of Jack Boughton. 

Jack, the Prodigal Son, can't come home even when he is home. I feel like that sometimes. Jack hears but does not understand, and he sees but does not perceive. And he is lonely. Jack is a faithless character who was raised within the Faith (see the emotional capitalization again?). He is surrounded by others whose lives are filled with Love and Virtue, people who are reaching their arms out to him, longing to comfort him, all day long. But Jack cannot be comforted, it is the nature of his affliction to be alone in his vice. I think his character scratches at my heart so sharply because I often feel like him. I think this is one of the reasons it comforted me to read Home again, because sometimes I need to be reminded that loneliness is part of the human experience. We are born into sin, and alienated from God, after all. What could be more lonely than being at odds with the All-Perfect Creator of your own soul?

So people are lonely. Is there anything more to be said?

I'm currently terrified of reaping what I sow. There are so many verses in the Bible concerned with this general principle: "whatever one sows, that will he also reap." I'm more comfortable thinking that the great Gospel Narrative is about helping me not to reap what I sow.   . . .for all have sinned. . .   No one wants to reap the misery of a fallen humanity.

"Tell the righteous that it shall be well with them,
        for they shall eat the fruit of their deeds.
    Woe to the wicked! It shall be ill with him,
        for what his hands have dealt out shall be done to him.


In these next 37 days, I'm going to try to sow actions I'd actually be glad to harvest."



Turn my eyes from looking at worthless things and give me life in your ways.

Thursday 9 August 2012

What Are All These Fragments For (Why Aren't You Writing, Ayodele)?

Working makes me feel good and responsible, but not working makes me feel amazing. This week, and probably next week, business is slow, so I'm enjoying lots of time off. The problem with time off  is that it feels so entirely natural--the way I expect Heaven to feel--fantastically new and sweetly familiar. With time off, my creative side takes over. Usually, I spend a great deal of time whining about how I'm bad at choosing creativity, but at times like this I know that I only forsake creativity because I'm tired. I don't feel that my profession demands very much creative spirit, so why does it still suck me dry?

This week a few of my best loved activities have come back. Well, not writing. I'm not counting blog posts as creative expression in written form. But time off this summer has meant indulging in culinary arts and paper crafts. Want to see? Ahem.

First, Art Project 1 of 2
OK, so the picture quality isn't great, but it's a quotation from M. Robinson, my favorite. I've been trying to read through some of her non-fiction this week, but it's too hot for intellectual activity, apparently. This quotation is from Housekeeping, which is my favorite book of hers, next to Gilead. I painted the frame gold because it was originally supposed to gird my $3.50 print of "St. Joseph and the Infant Christ" (see previous post); it turns out that St. Joe and our Young Redeemer look really kitschy in a painted gold frame. Lucky for me, this is not true of anything penned by Marilynne Robinson (or stamped by me). Do you like my color scheme? I'm going to hang it somewhere.



Art Project: 2 of 2
I should have done this one a while ago. This is from the last 3 lines of The Divine Comedy, translated into English of course. I added some black dots to the top left side because it seemed out of balance. I just don't know what to do with it now. I can't frame it, like the other one, and if hang it I'm afraid it won't stay flat. I had to pile books on top of it to keep the edges from curling through the entire process.  Oh!  I added punctuation marks, too (this is so not the final draft). I really need to buy punctuation stamps.

Iced Lollies: 1 of 2
Green tea with lavender. Aromatic, sweet, but not worth the thousand words.
Gratuitous Lavender Field















Iced Lollies: 2 of 2
Watermelon Rosemary Popsicles

These popsicle sticks have wee blue hearts on them because I have another flavor of popsicles in the freezer (in the same mold).









Rosemary
Imagine me using this to make simple syrup. This is the actual rosemary I used.










Lemons

Watermelon

And these, the actual lemons.














Note the swirly lines in the watermelon.









Everything all mixed up

Avant garde iced lolly molds
Here they are, the finished product. More pinkish now, than reddish.



My name is Ayodele, and I enjoy cutting, stirring, and pasting as an excuse for not writing. Next week, I'll write while looking at my art projects and eating popsicles. I won't have any excuses then--there won't be anything left for me to do.

Saturday 31 December 2011

The Best Books of 2011: as told by Me

Please note that these books are arranged in no important order, and that exactly 0 of them were published in 2011. Well, ahem:

Best Books of 2011
Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner
Autobiography of a Reformed Jewish girl turned Orthodox Jew turned Episcopalian. It's beautifully written, intelligent, meaningful, and hilarious. As a friend described it, "I kind of hate her. It's like, I love her, but I want to be her at the same time".

Operating Instructions, Traveling Mercies, and Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott
All of these are autobiographical non-fiction. These books I group together because it took reading through the first two of them before I loved Anne Lamott. At first, I passionately hated her. Though I disagree with some of the things she says, I've ultimately learned a lot from her. Anne Lamott stretched my understanding of sin, love, and faith. She's also hilarious and a very good writer. The third book, Bird by Bird, is primarily advice for beginning writers.

Housekeeping and Home by Marilynne Robinson
Two lovely texts by the patron saint of creative writing. I love this woman. The only problem with her writing is that I love all of it completely. It's a mystical experience every time. Her stories are all slow moving, and I love this, because she writes at the pace of my own soul. Home is the sequel to Gilead, an epistolary novel and one of the most beautiful books I have ever read. I cried through both of them. Housekeeping is a simply exquisite work of fiction. It's beautiful language, image, and narrative.

Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw
This fall I tried to read more plays and this is what came of it. I mean, this is my favorite out of the dozen or so that I read. This is the play from which we get the more familiar film, My Fair Lady. I have to say that George Bernard Shaw is generally heavily political and long-winded. I liked Pygmalion because I think he was more focused on real human interaction: Eliza, Prof. Higgins, and the relationship between them. It was entirely enjoyable, if enjoyable includes both the hilarious and the heart-wrenching.

Daddy Long Legs by Jean Webster
Another epistolary novel. It's perfect fall reading, as it's a book about school. Everybody knows that books about school and orphans make for good reading. It's humorous, sweet and makes me want to go to an all-girls college.

Phantastes and At the Back of the North Wind by George MacDonald
George MacDonald is the patron saint of everything. I love this man. This year, I re-read Phantastes after reading At the Back of the North Wind. He's just so good at what he does. What does he do? He takes gigantic, universal themes and gives them to you in beautiful, gloriously-simple fairy tales. He's bursting with truth, light, and beauty. It's like carrying a star in your pocket. It's wonderful.

Mystery and Manners by Flannery O' Connor
Another book largely about writing. I have a secret delight in reading writers talking about the craft of writing. It makes me feel better about my own lack of discipline in that area. In this book, Flannery mockingly and helpfully presents the writing life and the purpose of writing.

Revelation by St. John & the Holy Spirit
Not a first read, but this year Revelation suddenly made sense. I think I made it past all of the bewildering discussions of "pre vs. post-trib" and finally came to see the drama of the book itself. I love it; it's well written, mystical, prophetic, and, as I've recently discovered, unbelievably straightforward. God wins! Revelation is a new favorite.

Pensées by Pascal
Read this for school, back in the early days of 2011 when I was still a student. I loved this because it's like philosophy for the literary. It is beautifully written and has a heart. I don't know how else to say it.

Emma by Jane Austen
Of course I've seen the movies 12,000 times. But, I've somehow never made it through the book before. I'm amazed upon this read to see aspects of myself in Emma Woodhouse. I, too, fall prey to my own imaginative speculations. Shocking, I know.

Portrait of a Lady by Henry James

I didn't like Henry James before I read it, and I didn't even like this work until I was about 150 pages in, but I did really enjoy it. I was surprised, which is the main thing. The characters feel like real people. Good work, Henry.

The Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius

Hard to categorize, but harder to read. Boethius sort of socks you in the belly and makes you consider life's hardest questions. Why is there suffering? Boethius can tell you. Read him.

I don't generally like "best of" lists. But now I've posted for the last time in 2011. Ha!
Let's all choose to believe that I'll post more frequently in 2012. Bonne Année!