A Luminous Sorrow
Install Theme
Thus we have three answers to our question about the nature of the present: the present is the past, the present is the future, and the present is eternity.

— Paul Tillich
“The Religious Situation”
Introduction (via verilyisayuntothee)

signorcasaubon:

Lady Chapel of the Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Coutances, France

signorcasaubon:

Lady Chapel of the Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Coutances, France

(via verilyisayuntothee)

archatlas:

Paris Roof Tops Michael Wolf

Choruses from The Rock, excerpt

TS Eliot

Choruses from The Rock, excerpt

TS Eliot

transistoradio:

William James Müller (1812-1845), Rouen: Apse of St Vincent (1840), watercolour, gouache, and graphite on paper, 30.5 x 43.8 cm. Collection of Tate, UK. Via Tate.

transistoradio:

William James Müller (1812-1845), Rouen: Apse of St Vincent (1840), watercolour, gouache, and graphite on paper, 30.5 x 43.8 cm. Collection of Tate, UK. Via Tate.

(via verilyisayuntothee)

malakhgabriel:

The police raided a church because they believed that the church was offering hospitality. The police raided a church because giving people a place to rest is against the law. The police raided a church because caring for people goes against the aims of empire and must be stopped.
You cannot serve the United States and the Kingdom of God. You cannot honor a badge and the cross. You cannot love the state and your neighbor.

malakhgabriel:

The police raided a church because they believed that the church was offering hospitality. The police raided a church because giving people a place to rest is against the law. The police raided a church because caring for people goes against the aims of empire and must be stopped.

You cannot serve the United States and the Kingdom of God. You cannot honor a badge and the cross. You cannot love the state and your neighbor.

(Source: twitter.com, via locusimperium)

Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thy intercession was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, I fly to thee, O Virgin of virgins, my Mother; to thee do I come; before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me. Amen.

The Memorare is a very popular Marian prayer that is sometimes attributed to St. Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153), Confessor, Abbot, and Doctor of the Church. While some of his writings do indeed echo the words of the Memorare, he did not in fact compose it. The prayer was first popularized not by St. Bernard of Clairvaux, but by another Bernard, namely Fr. Claude Bernard (1588-1641). More than likely the association of St. Bernard of Clairvaux’s name with the prayer is a case of mistaken identity with Fr. Claude Bernard. (via theraccolta)

Dorothy Day had a practice of saying the Memorare every day of her life. Interestingly, she learned the prayer from J.K. Huysmans’ En route (she did not appreciate his earlier, more purely Decadent works, and apparently Peter Maurin threw one of them in the fireplace at the Mott St. House of Hospitality):

But it was The Return which taught me the Memorare, that beautiful prayer to Mary, which so impressed me that I have said it since every day of my life. Pope John also had this practice. All I think I ever asked of her was that she should take care of me. The prayer is brief and easily remembered.

(via violentcharity)

(via violentcharity)

theparisreview:

The hands are free from guile and coarse use,They echo the face in elemental probity,Holding in quick, almost offhand fashionGulps of sun,Chunks of flameIn the shade of bleached volcanoes.
—Deborah S. Pease, 1943–2014

theparisreview:

The hands are free from guile and coarse use,
They echo the face in elemental probity,
Holding in quick, almost offhand fashion
Gulps of sun,
Chunks of flame
In the shade of bleached volcanoes.

Deborah S. Pease, 1943–2014

putthison:

Actual Japanese Workwear

Check out these absolutely stunning Japanese firemen coats. Known as Hanten coats, these were worn by Japanese firefighters in the 19th century. At the time, the technology to spray water at a high-enough pressure hadn’t been invented yet, so Japanese men had to fight fires by creating firebreaks downwind. Doing so, however, put them in danger of catching on fire themselves, as hot embers can travel up to a mile. To prevent that, they were continually doused with water, so that the thick and heavy coats would be more fire resistant.

The symbols and designs you see are for several things. Some are just for decoration, of course, while some signal the fire crew that the wearer belonged to. Others are lucky symbols, while some might refer to a heroic story or myth, encouraging the wearer to be courageous and strong.

You can see these coats in person (along with many other awesome things) at Shibui, a shop in New York City for Japanese antiques and collectibles. They’re moving at the end of September and are having a sale right now to lighten their load. Select items are discounted by up to 50%, including lots of boro fabrics, which is a kind of heavily patched and mended Japanese textile. You can see examples of boro here.

For those of us outside of NYC, Shibui has a Google+ page you can admire (they’ll take phone orders, if you’re interested). There’s also a book titled Haten and Happi, which is all about traditional Japanese work coats.