the ninth hour

It's the last minute crunch before the end - the final exam that concludes half of my undergraduate education. Granted, the milestone isn't as large as that of finalizing that education, but it is a pillar of a kind.

Had we but world enough, and time,

This last-minute studying were no crime.

Time slips past so quickly, it's wingéd chariot hurrying near. [No, I did not write a seventeenth century exam a few days ago and just quote Andrew Marvell.]

Good Friday, 1613, Riding Westward

LET man's soul be a sphere, and then, in this,
Th' intelligence that moves, devotion is ;
And as the other spheres, by being grown
Subject to foreign motion, lose their own,
And being by others hurried every day,
Scarce in a year their natural form obey ;
Pleasure or business, so, our souls admit
For their first mover, and are whirl'd by it.
Hence is't, that I am carried towards the west,
This day, when my soul's form bends to the East.
There I should see a Sun by rising set,
And by that setting endless day beget.
But that Christ on His cross did rise and fall,
Sin had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I almost be glad, I do not see
That spectacle of too much weight for me.
Who sees Gods face, that is self-life, must die ;
What a death were it then to see God die ?
It made His own lieutenant, Nature, shrink,
It made His footstool crack, and the sun wink.
Could I behold those hands, which span the poles
And tune all spheres at once, pierced with those holes ?
Could I behold that endless height, which is
Zenith to us and our antipodes,
Humbled below us ? or that blood, which is
The seat of all our soul's, if not of His,
Made dirt of dust, or that flesh which was worn
By God for His apparel, ragg'd and torn ?
If on these things I durst not look, durst I
On His distressed Mother cast mine eye,
Who was God's partner here, and furnish'd thus
Half of that sacrifice which ransom'd us ?
Though these things as I ride be from mine eye,
They're present yet unto my memory,
For that looks towards them ; and Thou look'st towards me,
O Saviour, as Thou hang'st upon the tree.
I turn my back to thee but to receive
Corrections till Thy mercies bid Thee leave.
O think me worth Thine anger, punish me,
Burn off my rust, and my deformity ;
Restore Thine image, so much, by Thy grace,
That Thou mayst know me, and I'll turn my face.

- John Donne

one

Just one more.

Sometimes the small things feel like the biggest.

signs of spring

To celebrate St. Patrick's day, the colour green has been prominently displayed about the school. However, the most popular location in which to publish the statement of green is outside. There is not a cloud to be seen with a warm sun on my back as I follow the crowds outdoors. To be sure, the natural greens are lacking but linger in the promise of a return that is near at hand.

surely there must be some truth in this

a jolting reality

"When you look into water, you see a likeness of your face.

When you look into your heart, you see what you are really like."

- Proverbs 27:19

early morning escapades

The sound of running water is a beautiful thing.

let's play that one more time

music was made for two

just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

[Theme song of the weekend. Never let your children/siblings watch too much of Gilligan's Island. You'll soon regret it. No matter how much you need that half-hour nap.]

I really wish there were not a limitation to learning and education. The time has come again for course selections for the upcoming year. My problem lies not with finding the stuff that interests me, but weeding out the extraneous courses that are less interesting and not beneficial to an honours Major. You'd think that the six course difference between a general and an honours would allow you a little more leeway, but it's all a facade. All it does is force you to take four 400-level courses which are interesting anyway.

I want to take it all and simply learn.