1 July 2013: Me Aweddy Awake

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Edward G. Nilges, “Me Aweddy Awake”, pen on A4 size paper 1 July 2013. Copyright (c) 2013 by Edward G. Niges: Moral rights asserted.

Workout 20 min first thing (5:30 AM): walk and three flight stairclimb: almost collapsed and was unable to do 100 risers as “step aerobics” as planned. Still kind of futzy will try again tomorrow with lower goals. Canceled stay in Lamma.

Last night awoke at the hour at which it is said that before electric lighting, in “a world lit only by fire”, people would wake up for a bit and quietly pray or talk in the darkness.

Said my Rosary as before to find peace.

It’s rather amusing that it may not be considered fashionable by the Smart Set or the Airmen and Airwomen of my dream for me to say the Rosary and it is perfectly true that saying the Rosary is often associated with fearful reaction including Hungarian anti-Semitism (although Poles as usual seem to maintain an even strain compared with their MittelEuropische brethren).

Your Spanish Falangiste (spiritual ancestor of the Falange that slaughtered Lebanese and Palestinians under the protection of the Israelis in 1982) carried fancy, expensive beads (mine are baby blue, plastic, and I store them in a Hershey’s Special Dark chocolate box, figuring He and his Mom like the smell of chocs perhaps better than incense. Catholics often find Presences which is a survival of ancient nature worship but don’t tell Father O’Reilly I said that.)

Seriously it is amusing how many well-intentioned expats of my generation will fall in love with Tibet’s Buddhism which (quite unlike Indian or Chinese Buddhism) uses beads and counting all the time to ensure peace at the center: by occupying the Monkey (our midbrain) with something Monkey likes to do. I figure that it’s easier just to return to prayers I know quite well (although I add Protestant material to my Lord’s Prayer, “Thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory” that we use in AA because it sounds cool).

During Lent we’d say ten rosaries (which is about a thousand Hail, Marys and almost as many Lord’s Prayers) as chosen students would recite the Stabat Mater Dolorosa in English: “at the cross her station keeping stood the mournful mother weeping”.

The Stabat Mater has been used by many composers and painters to make art, with the most famous musical work being that of Pergolesi.

The nexus of the Catholic church with art, with elaborate Mexican crucifixions meditated on today by recovering gang bangers, with passion is something that I cannot escape. I love Proddies but their dour services and overemphasis on wealth as a sign of election leave me cold. I love the Jewish people but I can’t be Jewish at this late date. I love the Islamists but same deal, plus I don’t like wearing a beard (the no drinking rule would probably be duck soup).

It might be a heresy in all of these religions, but I say that it’s plain as pike-staffs that they all worship the same god. And this god (“immortal, invisible, God only wise” in the hymn) is above demanding specific forms of worship, but you may be sure He or She is not above condemning massacres of one set of believers by another. Period. No question. No lip, as like Grandfather on the subject of Mark Hanna or the Church I pound the breakfast table. Mark Hanna was an Ohio political boss from the turn of the twentieth century who got McKinley elected.

O worship the King, all Glorious above
O Gratefully Sing His power and his love
Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days!
Pavilioned in Splendor and girded with Praise

This hymning tune used to come to me during early runs, for “this music crept to me by the waters”.

Oops a knock on the door! It’s the Holy Inquisition come to fetch me owing to my unconventional beliefs!

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!


Close to completing the entire work. Found a sentence, in Kant’s chapters on reason and theology, that clocks in at about 180 words and this demands another sentence diagram post for such posts can reveal a lot. This sentence promises to reveal truths about Kant’s analysis of why we cannot through pure reason prove the existence of God, but most assuredly can in practical reason. The question being whether this is what Adorno would call “bourgeois untruth”.

When my son died (died) I did not say “there is no God” as I might have said if he had died when he was a little bitty baby. For Eddie was emperor in his own domain: I found a reference of his in a Tweet to a You Tube clip: the end of Aguirre, Wrath of God, where the mad conquistadore rages on a raft that he is monarch of all he surveys. My son was bound in a nutshell yet may have counted himself king of absolute space. I don’t know, but I warned him at the time to go easy on the booze and the non-bourgeois truthiness as well.


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