While at the haidresser's today, I caught up on some magazine reading, including a recent issue of Rolling Stone. The cover story was on U2 and their new album, No Line on the Horizon. Hie thee off to iTunes and download it; you won't be sorry.
Anyway, the RS article talked about the inspiration behind "Magnificent," one of those songs that can make you break out in wild goosebumps. "Magnificent" was influenced by the Gospel of Luke, specifically, the Magnificat, a joyous prayer told in Mary's voice. Here it is in English, followed by the Latin:
My soul magnifies the Lord,
And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.
For He has regarded the low estate of His handmaiden,
For behold, henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name. And His mercy is on those who fear Him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with His arm:
He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has put down the mighty from their thrones,
and exalted those of low degree.
He has filled the hungry with good things;
and the rich He has sent empty away.
He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of His mercy;
As He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to His posterity forever.
Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.
As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen
-*-
Magníficat ánima mea Dóminum,
et exsultávit spíritus meus
in Deo salvatóre meo,
quia respéxit humilitátem
ancíllæ suæ.
Ecce enim ex hoc beátam
me dicent omnes generatiónes,
quia fecit mihi magna,
qui potens est,
et sanctum nomen eius,
et misericórdia eius in progénies
et progénies timéntibus eum.
Fecit poténtiam in bráchio suo,
dispérsit supérbos mente cordis sui;
depósuit poténtes de sede
et exaltávit húmiles.
Esuriéntes implévit bonis
et dívites dimísit inánes.
Suscépit Ísrael púerum suum,
recordátus misericórdiæ,
sicut locútus est ad patres nostros,
Ábraham et sémini eius in sæcula.
Glória Patri et Fílio
et Spirítui Sancto.
Sicut erat in princípio,
et nunc et semper,
et in sæcula sæculórum.
Amen.
-*-
Goosebumps, I tell you.
The RS article also talked about the process of making music and how the group recorded songs all over the world, how they immersed themselves in the beauty of whatever moment moved them to song, how they sometimes took the piss out of each other when necessary. ;) U2 the group is nothing more than four men who are a welter of contradictions in themselves, from the lofty to the earthy, from the spiritual to the profane.
I just love 'em.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Missing
Our white cat, Noelle, has been missing since Tuesday night. I was the one who let her out for her once-in-a-while front porch forays. She doesn't usually like to stay out there a long time; she prefers the security of the screened in back porch. But she had gone to the front door, mewing over her shoulder for me to follow her, and I let her out.
I forgot her. I went to bed, and Noelle stayed out all night. It was bitter cold that night. When we got up the next morning, a hard frost made the yard sparkle. When I realized what I'd done, I ran outside without my coat to call for her. It didn't take long for my hands to start to ache from the cold, and all I could think about was how her paw pads were so pink.
Robby and I spent most of the afternoons and nights that have followed calling for her---in the woods behind the house, in the overgrown tangle of Mimosa trees across the street, up and down our road. We've driven over to our old house several times in the hope that she got confused and headed for the old homestead. We've looked for a limp bundle of fur along the highway and have been grateful for its absence.
But she's still missing.
Well meaning friends have told me stories about cats who normally don't stray taking off for extended walkabouts and coming home just fine. They tell me not to give up. I'd settle for not tearing up at the sight of her litter box in the laundry room or her food and water dishes in the kitchen. I'd settle for not automatically glancing over into the spare room as I walk by with the expectation of seeing her belly-up on the bed. I'd settle for not going to the front door and peering through the kaleidoscope jumble of the leaded glass panes somewhere between five and twelve times a night.
I probably don't have to tell you how much I blame myself for what happened. I probably don't have to tell you about the what-ifs on constant playback loop in my head. I probably don't have to tell you that every time I walk past the Saint Francis statue in the flower bed, I whisper 'help' in his direction.
Maybe I should ask for Saint Anthony's help too; he's good with lost things.
Prayer for the Animals
by Albert Schweitzer
Hear our humble prayer, O God, for our friends, the animals.
Especially for animals who are suffering; for any that are
hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry;
for all that must be put to death.
We entreat for them all Thy mercy and pity,
and for those who deal with them, we ask a
a heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words.
Make us, ourselves, to be true friends to animals,
and so to share the blessings of the merciful.
I forgot her. I went to bed, and Noelle stayed out all night. It was bitter cold that night. When we got up the next morning, a hard frost made the yard sparkle. When I realized what I'd done, I ran outside without my coat to call for her. It didn't take long for my hands to start to ache from the cold, and all I could think about was how her paw pads were so pink.
Robby and I spent most of the afternoons and nights that have followed calling for her---in the woods behind the house, in the overgrown tangle of Mimosa trees across the street, up and down our road. We've driven over to our old house several times in the hope that she got confused and headed for the old homestead. We've looked for a limp bundle of fur along the highway and have been grateful for its absence.
But she's still missing.
Well meaning friends have told me stories about cats who normally don't stray taking off for extended walkabouts and coming home just fine. They tell me not to give up. I'd settle for not tearing up at the sight of her litter box in the laundry room or her food and water dishes in the kitchen. I'd settle for not automatically glancing over into the spare room as I walk by with the expectation of seeing her belly-up on the bed. I'd settle for not going to the front door and peering through the kaleidoscope jumble of the leaded glass panes somewhere between five and twelve times a night.
I probably don't have to tell you how much I blame myself for what happened. I probably don't have to tell you about the what-ifs on constant playback loop in my head. I probably don't have to tell you that every time I walk past the Saint Francis statue in the flower bed, I whisper 'help' in his direction.
Maybe I should ask for Saint Anthony's help too; he's good with lost things.
Prayer for the Animals
by Albert Schweitzer
Hear our humble prayer, O God, for our friends, the animals.
Especially for animals who are suffering; for any that are
hunted or lost or deserted or frightened or hungry;
for all that must be put to death.
We entreat for them all Thy mercy and pity,
and for those who deal with them, we ask a
a heart of compassion and gentle hands and kindly words.
Make us, ourselves, to be true friends to animals,
and so to share the blessings of the merciful.
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