Keats

In reading John Keats I one day came across this quote from his love letters to Fanny Brawne,  "I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death.  O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute."  The quote puzzled me.  That he brooded over his Love was easy enough to understand, but that he brooded over the hour of his death and looked forward to it with fondness, that was thought provoking.  I believe that I understand Keats now.  Keats did not live a life of ease and pleasure.  He saw much sorrow, and lived with more.  To be separated from his Love, both in distance and circumstance of life, was his greatest hell.  He was tormented from day to day, yea, even breath to breath, and though he may temporarily take pleasure in a fine cup of tea or a beautiful sunset, he was yet tormented in those pleasures, in that he took them alone, without his Love.  For Keats, the hour of his death was also the hour of his soul's delivery from torment and hell.  Yes, I do understand Keats...

In Passing

People have oft asked me how it is that I can work with sick children.  In disbelief they deny that they could ever do such themselves, stating that it takes a special kind of person to cope with the stress of nursing an ill child back to health.  The fact of the matter is children rarely let anything hold them back from playing with their whole capacity.  This attribute often disguises just how sick they may be, making it easy to forget that the child is even sick at all.

Today in passing a nurse who recognized me stopped me to inform me that one of my patients passed away recently.  This particular patient was the little girl that I've been giving oil painting lessons to.  I've worked with her for the past seven years.  She was one of my favorites.  I now know how it feels to loose a patient...

Barbaric

In response to an 'article' that I read yesternight, I'd like to relate a passage from my journal, titled "Running Off Without Your Head" from February 2005 (Yes, I title my journal entries).

"Our Society today has become quite accustom to the modern conveniences that has been yielded to us from the generations of toil before us.  For this reason I enjoy going to the mountains and slaying my own food, cleaning it, and cooking it over the open fire.  It reminds me of who we are and where we come from as a species, and truly what we have now.  (Though I'm sure my children will question how I grew up with such primitive technology).  It may seem barbaric to those who have never killed and prepared meat, but let them enjoy their fine plate of veal or their filet mignon at their fancy restaurant.  Let them enjoy their prepackaged meat, their processed food from the market.  Let them enjoy the convinces of society with little thought of where and how those convinces are brought to pass.  We go to the market, we buy cooked food and all that we must do is consume it.  Our common man has forgotten how to obtain and prepare food in its most basic form, and he is quickly forgetting how to even cook it, for all has been done for him.  I may be seen as the barbarian when I am hunting, but as I look down the sights of that rifle or bow, I give thanks to God, for his providence in my life.  And before I release that arrow or pull that trigger I view that animal in its glory and I give respect to it.  It is hallowed in my mind.  I was taught this when I was young, by whom I know not.  Now let me ask how many, who call me barbaric, look upon their plate in the walls of their fine dinning restaurant and reverence the animal that yields its life that they may eat.  Now who is the barbarian?  

Upon the farm there are acts that accomplished that many see as wild and barbaric.  I have memories of dad slaughtering chickens, that could be disturbing to the modern man.  What is done?  The chicken is caught (by no means an easy task), its head is placed across a log, and the ax falls.  Thereafter the nerves in the chicken continue to fire, and it runs around briefly without a head, and then falls to the ground.  Then the feathers will be plucked, it will be cleaned, then butchered, seasoned, and sold.  To live by the land, whether that be planting and harvesting, or raising and slaughtering, commands a respect to that land that all farmers posses.  They understand that they  are at the mercy of the land.  It is not barbaric to live and joy in life, but it is barbaric to live and joy in life without the understanding, respect, and thanks to God and the land for the life we have been given."  

What is more barbaric?  To kill and butcher an animal with reverence, or to buy and cook prepackaged meat with little regard that that was once a life?