Transfixus Sed Non Mortuus

Here I Stand, Pierced and Transfixed

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All my original works are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License, except where otherwise noted.

Browsing Posts tagged love

A Father’s Love

February 13, 2013 at 1:48 pm Comments off

The other day, I was riding my bike down Packard. The sun was squinting through some big puffy clouds and the weather was fairly mild for the winter. There wasn’t a spot of snow on the ground, so I was riding gently along admiring all the things I passed.

As I was coming up on one particular parking lot, I noticed a very tall thin man in a black coat and hooded sweatshirt. He was facing partly away from me and I took note of him because his back was arched over while he walked. It looked very strange to me. However, as I drew nearer to him, I realized that in his left hand was a small toddler’s hand. The toddler had on a fluffy pink coat that made her look like a little pink marshmallow. He was bent over so that this girl (who I assume was his daughter) could walk with him.

I was nearly past them when the little pink marshmallow pulled her daddy’s hand down nearly to the ground and she seemed to be concentrating on the ground in front of her. This big dude just went right along with it, and was as patient as a saint while she studied the ground with deep earnestness. I slowed my bike a bit to see what she was looking at.

She gently reached on the ground and picked up an old maple leaf. Then, she brought it close to her face as if she was taking in every detail. Very gently she motioned for her dad to take the cold wet leaf. She placed it in his hand and he brought her up to his face for a kiss. I kept riding.

That small moment in time made me think about a father’s love. The love that man had for his daughter radiated to me, a random passerby. It definitely looked like he was arching his back in a very painful way so that his daughter could walk alongside. I thought about how I might have caused my own dad pain in trying to walk upright in this life. But I also saw the love of his daughter. A leaf that might mean nothing to the rest of the world suddenly had a lot of meaning for that dad because it was a gift from his daughter. I thought about what gifts I might have given my own dad that might not have much meaning outside of his and my little world. These things kept me thinking about a father’s love in general.

A father’s love has to be malleable, durable, and strong. A father’s love has to be gentle, patient, and kind as well. I think that I don’t always know how best to show love, but a father’s love always shows the best and brightest.

Musings ,

Lauren Aquilina – Fools

September 24, 2012 at 11:37 am Comments off

Lauren Aquilina’s first official music video:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uodUCtmCRME

You can buy her CD on iTunes. Here’s her web site: http://www.laurenaquilina.co.uk/

Music , , ,

The Flame of Thought and Love

July 18, 2012 at 4:39 am Comments off

Let us keep alive the flame of thought and love; they are one and the same flame. Let us communicate to those around us the desire to understand and to give (and also to receive). There are too many walled-up consciences.
~Abbe Monchanin

Information ,

The Mickey Finns – Tanks and Barbed Wire

July 6, 2012 at 5:27 am Comments off


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDPeeO7jY4E

My friend Mossy asked me for the lyrics to this song, and that reminded me what a good/sad song it is. I believe it is an original song by the Mickey Finns, and also that it is a true story. Anyway, I thought I would share it with you all.

She was a Catholic. He was a Protestant man.
And they both came from Belfast, divided by tanks and barbed wire.
Brought up in the Troubles on two religious beliefs,
but they both loved each other despite of what they might face.

Oh, to be brought up on two different sides of the fence,
Separated by concrete, tanks and freedom fighter men,
Separated by concrete, tanks and freedom fighter men.

Every night, they’d meet by the old shoe factory wall.
They walked the canal bank to a place that they called their own.
They talked about marriage and raising their own family.
And for a short while, they held each other tight.

Oh, to be brought up on two different sides of the fence,
Separated by concrete, tanks and freedom fighter men,
Separated by concrete, tanks and freedom fighter men.

One night, he lay sleeping all alone in his bed.
His door was kicked in by three armed and masked men.
They shot him three times in the head and once in the chest.
His only crime was the lovin’ of a Catholic girl.

Oh, to be brought up on two different sides of the fence,
Separated by concrete, tanks and freedom fighter men,
Separated by concrete, tanks and freedom fighter men.
Oh, to be brought up on two different sides of the fence,
Separated by concrete, tanks and freedom fighter men,
Separated by concrete, tanks and freedom fighter men.
~The Mickey Finns

Music , , , ,

The Opposite of Love

February 29, 2012 at 5:59 pm Comments off

This isn’t a well-thought out musing, so caveat emptor (“buyer[reader] beware”)! In fact, I think I just need to type it out to get some ideas out. So, here goes:

Someone told me the other day that “the opposite of love is not hate. It is fear.”

This really struck a chord with me even though I’m not sure if I completely agree with it. I think of hate as anti-love because it lacks all the things that make love what it is. It’s visceral, dangerous, and volatile, while love is warm, honest, and humble.

Most of the time, I view fear as a selfish emotion that is caused by desiring something that I want but don’t have or thinking something I do “have” will be lost. Yet, there is a grain of truth in the light of my own experience. When I am afraid, I can act very unloving towards the people or things that “caused” my fear. I see that when I am filled with so much joy that I don’t have fear, I can act lovingly to those who would do me harm. While that kind of compassion is certainly radical, it is not that unknown throughout history. In addition, I am starting to see that those types of actions are where love really exists.

I’ve heard the term “looking for love in all the wrong places” parlayed back and forth, but when you put it in the context of fear, I think it can take on a deeper meaning. When I am afraid, I can very easily look in the wrong “place” to allay my fear. Fear can hurt a lot and it’s easy to try to alleviate the hurt as quickly as possible, but not really get rid of the fear. It isn’t until I look in the deeper parts of myself and face my fears that I can fully alleviate that fear. As I alleviate my fears, then I can find room for love, and love fills the parts that were being eaten away by fear.

So, perhaps fear is the opposite of love, or maybe fear is AN opposite of love. I still don’t know a lot about these things, but I am really grateful for the chance to find out more about them. Thanks for reading!

Musings , ,

Happy St. Valentine’s Day

February 14, 2012 at 7:50 am Comments off

I hope that love and laughter are yours today. I hope that happiness and joy bring you gently to the other side of today. I hope that every person you meet builds the love of your fellow-man today. I hope you have a very very Happy St. Valentine’s Day today!

Prose , ,

Sounds of Silence

January 25, 2012 at 5:45 pm Comments off


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bo7fAjfp098

Daniel: “I like you.”
Hannah: “I like…frogs.”

Cool Stuff , , ,

In My Darkest Hour

January 10, 2012 at 2:27 am Comments off


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjZBSbFG0xU

It’s the tenth of January
And I still ain’t had no sleep
She comes waltzing in the night time made of wings
She is dressed up like a bandit
With a hundred sparkling rings
Looking for my company to keep
Coming closer to me
She doesn’t say a word
In the shadow of the carved rock tower
Where the sounds of the night
Were the only things we heard
In my darkest hour

She don’t want to hear no secrets
She would guarantee me that
She knows there ain’t no words that can describe her
With her white silk scarves
And her black Spanish hat
She knows there ain’t no way I can deny her
Yes her blue velvet perfume
Filling up the night
The guards are all asleep that watch the tower
The moon light held her breast
As she easily undressed
In my darkest hour

Her father’s in his chambers with his
Friends all gathered ’round
They are plotting their enemy’s demise
With their last detail done
They await the coming sun
While I am staring in my lover’s eyes
Her brothers and her sisters
Are all through for tonight
Pretending that they’ve just come into power
But she far most of all
Knows that they can only fall
In my darkest hour

Hungry wings; their melodies
While my love awakens me
In the midst of the sunburst first light
Her hands are holding up the skies
As I hid my opened eyes
Every move just for herself, and that’s so right
Soon I went along my way
With no words that could explain
As she began descending to the tower
Her safety now concerns me
Her circumstance to blame
In my darkest hour
~Arlo Guthrie

Music , , ,

David Attenborough’s What a Wonderful World

December 12, 2011 at 7:41 am Comments off

Have a listen to David Attenborough’s “What a Wonderful World.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B8WHKRzkCOY

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Vincent Black Lightning

November 30, 2011 at 7:44 am Comments off


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7bXBOfgvJ4

Oh, says Red Molly to James, “That’s a fine motor bike.
Ah, a girl could feel special on any such like.”
Says James to Red Molly, “My heart’s off to you!
That’s a Vincent Black Lightning, Nineteen Fifty Two.
And I’ve seen you at the corners and cafes it seems,
red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme.”

And he pulled her up behind
and down to the Box Hill,they did ride.

Oh, says James to Red Molly, “Here’s a ring for your right hand,
but I’ll tell you in honest I’m a dangerous man.
For I’ve fought with the law since I was seventeen.
I’ve robbed many a man to get my Vincent machine.
Now, I’m twenty one years, I might make twenty two
and I don’t mind dying but for the love of you.
And if fate should break my stride,
then I’ll give you my Vincent to ride.”

“Come down, come down, Red Molly,” called Sargent McRae,
“for they’ve taken young James Addie for armed robbery.
Shotgun blast in his chest left nothing inside.
Oh, come down Red Molly to his dying bedside.”

When she came to the hospital there wasn’t much left
He was running out of road, he was running out of breath.
But he smiled to see her cry.
He said, “I’ll give you my Vincent to ride.”

Says James, “In my opinion, there’s nothing in this world
beats a Fifty two Vincent and a red-headed girl.
Now Nortons and Indians and Greeveses won’t do
Ah, they don’t have a soul like a Vincent Fifty Two.”

Oh, he reached for her hand and he slipped her the keys
Said, “I’ve got no further use for these.
I see angels on Ariels in leather and chrome
swooping down from heaven to carry me home.”
And he gave her one last kiss and died.
and he gave her his Vincent to ride.
~Richard Thompson

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