Random Observations

Started an iPod game and a hour later I finally separated myself from it. Surreal how addictive Bubble Pro is. Sort of reminds me of basketball in the way you toss the ball up and try to make it through passageways to the goal. It's a game that doesn't teach Pelegianism; I've reached a level where it takes some luck or grace to survive. Help arrives when you least expect it in the form of a "bomb" that clears the way free of obstacles, so one can never despair. But it also takes a high degree of human effort and will. It's a paradox in that everything depends on you, while at the same time nothing does.

* * *
Found a fellow bibliophile at librarything.com, a prof at Franciscan U who is a retired psychologist, is a fellow runner, and very much liked "The Song is You" by Arthur Philips. That novel was so good, which is rare to find, that I thought maybe he might be a shortcut to other good novels. We'll see. I'm afraid taste is so idiosyncratic that it may not avail, but he gave me a lead on my next one via his reviews.

* * *
The promised sunny day had a haze of clouds, which lent too much of the Victorian atmosphere, the kind I rather liked on Sunday. I read a rich broth but not enough Chesterton, who proffers hope and wonder (related?). I gazed up at the trees during a hike and saw the intricate web-like strands far above me. I saw trees older than me who will likely also survive me. I saw trees reaching heaven-ward and thought how they'd be less than toothpicks to God. If there's one thing the universe has taught us, it's that size doesn't matter. God takes note of the intricate cells and protoplasm as well as galaxies. DNA seems to me the universe in miniature.

* * *
Missed Mass Wednesday morning due to temporal laziness, and said morning prayers just after noontime. It was the remembrance of St. Polycarp, a name odd enough to draw me in to research him. He was a very early martyr, dying by way of fire. His courage, like that of so many other martyrs, is other-worldly (literally). I thought briefly of how Jesus said that his disciples would do greater things than Him, and I wondered if this was a greater thing, in how Polycarp went to his death with such joy. He considered it a gift of God, to be able to drink of the cup of Christ. St. Polycarp is reputed to have said that he wouldn't recant Jesus because "eighty-six years I have served Him and he hath done me no wrong. How can I speak ill of the King who saved me?"