Monthly Archives: April 2025

Milk white as light – and honey.

“For in the deepest sense God the Father is Himself the promised land which -– as the Holy Spirit has promised us -– the gentle and the upright in heart will inherit (cf. Matt. 5:5), as they strive in hope to attain it. The honey and milk that flow in that land, which is the Father, are the dawn luminaries, the twin rays, the Son and the Spirit, that are the life and delight and purification of the whole world.

“For the Son, who was begotten from the Father and who is inseparable from Him, may be called ‘honey,’ since He has become incarnate in human nature as in a honeycomb; and through this enhumanization He has sweetened and gladdened everything human in a miraculous way with -– how should one express it? -– extraordinary teachings and graces and countless other blessings and bounties.

“The ‘milk’ is the Holy Spirit, who is simple and uncompounded. He is not the offspring but the ‘going forth’ or procession from the Father. He is white as light, and He feeds with divine nourishment the intelligent beings who are still immature, thus initiating them, as the Lord said, into the kingdom of heaven (cf. I Cor. 3:1–2).

“Thus the ‘land flowing with honey and milk’ is rightly considered to be the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit; and it is to this land that the intellect which ‘crosses over’ is conducted through the guidance, power and energy of the Godhead in three Persons.”

The Philokalia Vol 5, by G.E.H. Palmer

The reality of blood and beetles.

NOTE TO REALITY

Without even knowing it, I have
believed in you for a long time.
When I looked at my blood under a microscope
                I could see truth multiplying over and over.
—Not police sirens, nor history books, not stage-three lymphoma
                                                                                     persuaded me
but your honeycombs and beetles; the dry blond fascicles of grass
                                                              thrust up above the January snow.
Your postcards of Picasso and Matisse,
                                         from the museum series on European masters.
When my friend died on the way to the hospital
                                           it was not his death that so amazed me
but that the driver of the cab
                                              did not insist upon the fare.
Quotation marks: what should we put inside them?
Shall I say “I”  “have been hurt” “by”  “you,”  you neglectful monster?
I speak now because experience has shown me
                                 that my mind will never be clear for long.
I am more thick-skinned and male, more selfish, jealous, and afraid
                                   than ever in my life.
“For my heart is tangled in thy nets;
                              my soul enmeshed in cataracts of time…”
The breeze so cool today, the sky smeared with bluish grays and whites.
The parade for the slain police officer
goes past the bakery
and the smell of fresh bread

makes the mourners salivate against their will.

-Tony Hoagland

Things above and things below.

In the fifth week of Lent we Orthodox have “Thursday of the Great Canon,” on which day the entire Great Canon of St. Andrew of Crete is sung. This penitential hymn is very long, and in the first week of Lent the singing of it is divided among four services. But today we hear and pray it all at once.

“A basic distinguishing feature of the Great Canon is its extremely broad use of images and subjects taken both from the Old and New Testaments. As the Canon progresses, the congregation encounters many biblical examples of sin and repentance. The Bible (and therefore, the Canon) speaks of some individuals in a positive light, and about others in a negative one—the penitents are expected to emulate the positive examples of sanctity and repentance, and to learn from and avoid the negative examples of sin, fallen nature and pride.” -Orthodox Wiki

Here is a small portion from Canticle Four:

“Thy Body and Thy Blood, O Word, Thou hast offered at Thy Crucifixion for the sake of all: Thy Body to refashion me, Thy Blood to wash me clean; and Thou hast given up Thy spirit, O Christ, to bring me to the Father.

“O Creator, Thou hast worked salvation in the midst of the earth, that we might be saved. Thou wast crucified of Thine own will upon the Tree; and Eden, closed till then, was opened. Things above and things below, the creation and all peoples have been saved and worship Thee.

“May the Blood from Thy side be to me a cleansing fount, and may the water that flows with it be a drink of forgiveness. May I be purified by both, O Word, anointed and refreshed, having as chrism and drink Thy words of life.”

In the midst of heady scents.

It is such a blustery day. My helper in the garden was not able to come at all in March, in spite of trying and getting rained out. I think he might come today, though even if the rain stops, it’s so windy and cold, I do not want to go out there and join in the clean up and pruning and weeding. I will just stay in and do a few Greek lessons, and show you more pictures of the garden.

At right is a birthday card I received from my grandson. He’s doing an extensive series of these drawings of which this is only one family member, so I don’t think he was necessarily implying any resemblance. But I immediately felt that this motherly looking cat was a kindred spirit.

More birthday gifts illustrate this post, made by several of the younger, most practical and artistic grandchildren. The ones who live in California keep writing cards and letters wondering when they will next see me; these, combined with the departure of the Colorado clan after they had been available for hugs for a whole week, gave me the idea of making a quick trip north to see Pippin’s brood this weekend — but stop… breathe… It looks better to wait until after Pascha, and more easily accomplished. So I’m looking forward to that, though even then it will be a challenge to squeeze it in. Because of May travels.

In the front garden, more Yellows and Oranges are flowering to complement the purples and blues. The freesias have never smelled so divine; maybe it is the heavenly dampness in the air that carries their scent to my head such that I want to sit down on the wet sidewalk and swoon a while. In the lower right of the picture below you can see the new ceanothus covered with its Lenten purple. The green shag carpet is baby nigella, which I need to thin out severely as soon as the weather is favorable.

The hen hotpad above is the exception in the group — not made by a grandchild, but sent by my dear friend in Arizona ❤

The irises in the front, which are supposed to be tall, but have been short lately, are sending up tall stems with buds now, and they are beginning to open, just as the yellow California poppies are coming on. Now, if the rain will just stop, and the wind turn into a gentle spring breeze…

No one has played an April Fool’s joke on me today — I don’t think. How about you?