Thursday, March 27, 2008

The Panther

In the Jardin des Plantes, Paris

From seeing the bars, his seeing is so exhausted
that it no longer holds anything anymore.
To him the world is bars, a hundred thousand
bars, and behind the bars, nothing.

The lithe swinging of that rhythmical easy stride
which circles down to the tiniest hub
is like a dance of energy around a point
in which a great will stands stunned and numb.

Only at times the curtains of the pupil rise
without a sound . . . then a shape enters,
slips through the tightened silence of the shoulders,
reaches the heart, and dies.

Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Robert Bly

Monday, March 17, 2008

Titillation

Delicate recently emerged from her cave to criticize my choice of pictures. A portrait of G, she said, was perfectly charming. As for jaw-jittering photographs of Cardinalis cardinalis, that is not wholesome, said she.


Not just wholesome, Delicate. Crunchy, juicy, toothsome too.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

The souls of cats, whales, cabbages, and men

The majority are right, for a change. Animals do have souls, and if any human wants further guidance, she can do no better than to read David Albert Jones O.P. on the analogous question, "Do Whales have souls?"

To have a soul, anima, is to be animate, to be alive. Writes Fr. Jones: "Having a soul is having a certain form, a certain organization such that one can move oneself ... This self-moving quality, shown in the processes of nutrition, growth and reproduction, is common to all living things." Thus, St. Thomas Aquinas would affirm that a cabbage, so long as it is alive, is alive in virtue of having a soul. (Although, as Fr. Jones adds, "Plants are a bit of a borderline case, for though clearly alive they are not very lively.") One learns that Genesis uses the same word, nephesh, "living soul," to describe, on the one hand, the living creatures brought forth from the waters and, on the other, the lump that becomes man through the breath of God.

You may read more in the December 1992 issue of New Blackfriars.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Yes alright I'm sorry


So. There. Are you happy? I am also supposed to say:

Did you know that G once wrestled with a baby Magpie? This is perfectly true. They rolled over and over at the bottom of the garden. I don't think Magpie was hurt. He may even be the ugly brute we all saw this afternoon, trying to pick his way into a rubbish bag. Our ears flattened at the sight.

Monday, March 3, 2008

Sketchy



I have drawn a picture of my friend Gooney.

I am not very satisfied with it, but it does capture his embonpoint.

He is pictured where he wants to be:
hunting flies in the grass.

Don't we all.

Saturday, March 1, 2008

Breakout

My dear friend Gooney got his paws wet today. It was sunny, fresh -- the sparrows have not yet lost their winter sense of immunity. They came very close, very close on the twigs of my crabapple tree.

As soon as the back door opened, G shot out. Down Mosquito Alley, which at this time of year is a canal of meltwater on a bed of ice, chilled a degree or two further by the shadow of the house. Goon -- bless him -- waded through and tried to swim under the gate.

He was caught of course, and I saw him licking his paws inside.

(Later: he was allowed to sit in the sun, on his string. Brother Bhiksu was FURIOUS. He was asleep at the time and missed his chance.)