Monday \u00a0November 25<\/p>\n
The pre-dawn sky promised a strong sunrise; weather.com<\/a> promised it at 7:36 am. \u00a0 Dawn this morning showed a dance of subtle changing colors lured me to stand a while at an east window on Lansing Reilly’s 2nd floor looking out over Calihan Hall, the LaCrosse and Soccer field, and the big parking lot. \u00a0It turned out that the parking lot caught my attention more than the magnificent sunrise. \u00a0People driving in to park pause before turning off their lights, gathering their stuff, and heading to a work place on campus. \u00a0Two surprises — the scattering of car lights look very different when they play a part in a sunrise, mellow lights that grow a little more delicate as sunrise changes the light around them; \u00a0that was one surprise. \u00a0The other was the serene pace of each vehicle as its driver decided which slot to choose. \u00a0The people pulling into the lot were matching the pace of their parking space choice with the dawn’s opening. \u00a0 The sunrise was worth watching; so was the parking lot.<\/p>\n All that beauty reminds me of one of Gerard Manley Hopkins’ sonnets. \u00a0 Hopkins dedicates the poem “to Christ our Lord,” \u00a0the only explicit faith language in the poem. \u00a0The rest is all falcon \u00a0swooping in the sky at dawn.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The Windhover: \u00a0To Christ our Lord<\/strong><\/p>\n I caught this morning morning’s minion, king-<\/p>\n dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in<\/p>\n his riding<\/p>\n Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding<\/p>\n High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing<\/p>\n In his ecstasy! \u00a0then off, off forth on swing,<\/p>\n As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl<\/p>\n and gliding<\/p>\n Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding<\/p>\n Stirred for a bird,–the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Brute beauty and valor and act, oh, air, pride, plume here<\/p>\n Buckle! \u00a0And the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion<\/p>\n Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n No wonder of it: \u00a0sh\u00e9er pl\u1ed1d makes plough down sillion<\/p>\n Shine, and blue-bleak embers, a my dear,<\/p>\n Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Gerard Manley Hopkins<\/p>\n <\/p>\n post-note<\/span><\/strong>;<\/p>\n Hopkins’ poems are [in]famous for the density of their vocabulary. \u00a0If you want to catch all the descriptive meaning packed in these 16 sonnett lines, bring your dictionary. \u00a0Hopkins’ life-long friend Robert Bridges often ground his aesthetic teeth at what seemed to him to be unnecessary complexity. \u00a0 \u00a0On November 6, 1887 Hopkins wrote Bridges, attempting to explain the density of his poetic language; \u00a0Try reading GMH’s explanation out loud, for that matter, try reading The Windhover\u00a0out loud as the poet intended.<\/p>\n “Plainly if it is possible to express a subtle and recondite thought on a sublte and recondite subject in a subtle and recondite way and with great felicity and perfection in the end, something must be sacrificed, with so trying a task, in the process, and this may be the being at once, nay perhaps even the being without explanation at all, intelligible.”<\/strong><\/p>\n One of the last days before Thankgiving break. \u00a0Yippee!<\/p>\n john st sj<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Monday \u00a0November 25 The pre-dawn sky promised a strong sunrise; weather.com promised it at 7:36 am. \u00a0 Dawn this morning showed a dance of subtle changing colors lured me to stand a while at an east window on Lansing Reilly’s … Continue reading