I walked in my Grandmothers Footsteps...

I'm spending the month of July in Klaipeda, Lithuania and

I will be blogging the experience. Some posts will be intentional but a lot of it will be stream of consciousness. I chalk up any terrible culturally insensitive things I may say to jetlag. Enjoy the journey with me!!

The other day I visited the village of Kretinga. Kretinga is a small town. For once, this isn't deceptively so. Most "small towns" in Lithuania aren't. This fact comes mainly from the still very high population density. Most people still live in Soviet era apartments, which while they look extremely decrepit are actually very nice. The buildings are run like co-ops so any

cosmetic work falls to the wayside until it becomes unbearable. Residents won't collectively shell out the money otherwise.

HOWEVER, I digress. I went to Kretinga this past weekend. Kretinga is the childhood home of my Grandmother. She didn't grow up in town, but lived in the farmlands surrounding the city. I wasn't able to make any prior contact so I arrived in town under the radar and not really knowing ANYTHING about Kretinga or my grandmothers relationship to it. This visit was the bare minimum of "ancestral exploration." I was shoved into it very enthusiastically by Kel, a man from New Zealand (with very red hair)

who currently lives in Klaipeda. He was adamant that I needed to visit Kretinga and was also very disappointed that I hadn't done more homework. The difficult thing about trying to connect ancestral dots is that in all the regime change and government turnover, centralized records can be hard to find. I would have needed to really dig in advance, and now that I know the country a little better, there isn't much keeping me from potentially coming back.

I wouldn't say that the ghost of my Grandmother walked before, it wasn't that emotional or visceral. However, I was able to imagine her walking down some of the same broad thoroughfares that I did. I found an evangelical lutheran church, which was her denomination. For all I know she might have attended it. ....I have to admit this doesn't sound like the deep and emotional

narrative one would expect with visiting a very important piece of my personal history. Though I suppose to a certain extent history is like that sometimes. Routinely the most mundane things end up being meaningful. I don't mean to imply that Kretinga is mundane, or my grandmothers life was mundane for that matter. Far from it...the woman worked two night jobs and raised two boys in inner city chicago...alone. This of course, was AFTER being ripped from her home to forcibly work for the Germans in a labor camp. History, while extremely important and significant usually lacks that cinematic quality we like to impose upon it.

History grounds individuals and societies. There is an implicit understanding that with an understanding of history comes a greater understanding of how each of us is connected to a narrative that is bigger than ourselves. This point was driven home for me especially while walking around Kretinga. My life is very much the product of intentional and unintentional choices made by others. And their life comes from the same cascading reality. Life has a tendency to bubble forth like a pot of noodles you shouldn't have covered while boiling. History can help us make sense of Life's randomness. It can help draw some contours and give shape to something that might have originally been thought to be formless and amoeboid.

I wish more of my friends had an opportunity to walk in the footsteps of their ancestors. My generation has known nothing but rapid social and technological change. Few other generations in history have witnessed the sorts of transformations I seem to bump into every 4 years or so. We're an unsentimental lot, but that doesn't mean we can't connect to a larger narrative or an older and subtly relevant time. I'm very glad that I visited Kretinga. You can see more pictures of it here.

Why The Hill Of Crosses is Cooler Than It Sounds

I'm spending the month of July in Klaipeda, Lithuania and I will be blogging the experience. Some posts will be intentional but a lot of it will be stream of consciousness. I chalk up any terrible culturally insensitive things I may say to jetlag. Enjoy the journey with me!!

Imagine that your entire life you feel the identity you've been given is wrong. You spend your days being educated under one system that drills you constantly on what your supposed to be. You learn one common language, you learn one common history, you're told that the world is supposed to look and act a specific way.

Imagine you had a nagging suspicion that this world wasn't right. No matter how often the authority figures around you assured you that this is the way things should be, YOU feel that its not right. Perhaps the more you try and push against the way your told this world should be the more resistance you get. Friends begin to reject you, teachers begin to eye you warily, people you trust whisper that if you don't stop thinking the way your thinking you might be shunned. That job your supposed to get might disappear. But you don't care, and you're desperate to find a way to express your rejection of this reality boldly and evocatively. Your tired of the suffocating existence this world forces you to accept.

You begin to hear rumors of a place...a place that passionately and clearly declares that this reality is

a sham. A place that claims this reality holds no exclusivity over anyone's existence. Wouldn't you want to find this place? Wouldn't you want to do something to participate in the revolutionary statement it made?

This scenario is the basic story of "The Hill of Crosses." No one really knows exactly how it was started. There's a few stories that go back to 1850. Originally it was believed that the son of a local merchant promised to plant a cross on a hill outside of Šiauliai. When the boy was healed, he obliged his promise.

Lithuania, through much of its history, has fought constantly for cultural relevance. First the Poles, and then the Russians worked hard to absorb Lithuania. While the Poles favored language dominance and reserving good land for Polish nobility, the Russians had a tendency to ship anybody who complained too loudly off to Siberia. Lithuanian culture was continually struggling for its own survival. After the failed Lithuanian insurrection against Russia in the 1860s more crosses began to appear.

The Hill of Crosses gained new relevance during the Soviet occupation. The Soviets deported the Lithuanian population in earnest. Schools were set up to erase the Lithuanian language and culture, and Russian transmigrants were flooded into the country in an effort to overwhelm the natives. In 1961 the Hill of Crosses was labeled an undesirable place by the communist party and bulldozed. Still...the crosses kept returning and it was bulldozed several times over the next 2 decades.

The Hill of Crosses is an incredible reminder that belief matters. To quote Rob Bell, "....some things are true, but some things are TRUE." There may be forces or circumstances that continually reinforce the idea that this reality is all you have, or that things, no matter how hopeless can never change. But this reality pales in comparison to the signs of reality just beneath the surface of life. The Hill of Crosses, in its proper context is a stark reminder and a peephole into that truth.

More pictures of the hill of crosses can be found here.

The First Thing I do When I Get Back to America...

I'm spending the month of July in Klaipeda, Lithuania and I will be blogging the experience. Some posts will be intentional but a lot of it will be stream of consciousness. I chalk up any terrible culturally insensitive things I may say to jetlag. Enjoy the journey with me!!

......find a decent Chinese restaurant and get order something with a heavy sauce.

I think I may be going through culture shock. Today a colleague and I went to a chinese restaurant in Klaipeda. We had been told by some locals that the food was really good, and that it was pretty authentic. While the food in LT is overall REALLY good, generally fresh ingredients, low sodium, and cheap...sometimes I still crave good old fatty and SALTY U.S. cuisine. I thought it would be cheese burgers, but lately I'v

e really desired a taco or chinese.

SO, I was extatic, but to make a long story short I was strongly disappointed. Not only was the food extremely expensive (given the regular prices) but there were pickles in the stir fry...yes...pickles. Need I say more?

All that to say that when I return to America I am going to find the nearest, slightly dodgy, greasy chinese restaurant I can find and I am going to eat an entire order of Beef w/Broccoli all on my own...with extra white rice....and a ginger ale....

...mmmmmm.

P.S. I have started using Google+ (its pretty awesome) and have created a picture album...because I somehow forgot that I have a mac, which can do just about anything involving the word media. Find the album here.

Klaipeda

I'm spending the month of July in Klaipeda, Lithuania and I will be blogging the experience. Some posts will be intentional but a lot of it will be stream of consciousness. I chalk up any terrible culturally insensitive things I may say to jetlag. Enjoy the journey with me!!

So. I have another confession. I forgot to pack the usb cable that connects my camera to my computer. This means that any lovely pictures I've taken won't be able to be seen until I get back to the states.

...I also know this may cut my readership permanently in half.

KLAIPEDA

I've now been in Klaipeda, LT 4 days. While it hasn't felt like its been that long, the speed of the days is only going to increase. Tomorrow students arrive at LCC and each and every one of them gets packed into every available bed in the hall I'm helping manage.

It's been quite a journey so far. Klaipeda is a nice town. Its deceptively large. In this area of Eastern Europe (I can't speak for everywhere) most families still live in the Soviet era tenement that their parents or grandparents were given. A town that covers the area of a 25,000 person city in the US houses over 200,000. Whats interesting is that while the outside of many of these buildings look very eroded, some of the apartments must be VERY nice. I've passed one to many Beemers and Benzes to believe that those are simply the vehicles of the people that run the place. It's an odd juxtaposition.

Mostly a port and tourist town, Klaipeda was rebuilt by the Soviets as a military base and somewhat of a tourist/vacation spot. The oldtown has some very ancient buildings, but you can tell most of them were rebuilt a few decades ago. Still the town gives off that southern florida vibe that things are busy when the tourists are in town, but are probably pretty sleepy the rest of the time.

Lithuania, and Eastern Europe in general has slowly started growing on me. I think those of us in the U.S. forget how extravagently wealthy we are. I don't mean this in the typical "we're a bunch of greedy capitalists that only care about stuff" way. The U.S. social environment is filled with businesses and market oriented enterprises designed to find every obscure and conceivable way to make the U.S. citizen part with his money. Its striking how WELL these enterprises do. While Lithuania is oriented around a market economy, that well oiled- pristinely designed undercurrent isn't there. People who only use public transportation and people who own BMWs use the same beaches and eat at the same restaurants with the chipped paint on the exterior. (The food is AMAZING here btw....seriously, its mostly cheap and very well made)

Lithuania has a surprisingly unstratified culture, which is something you CANNOT say anymore about America. I only have to go as far as Benton Harbor vs. St. Joe in MI to see how true this is. This isn't to say that it doesn't have a dark underbelly...because this country does...alcohol abuse is pervasive, homelessness is a serious issue and there are some parts of the city I've been told to stay away from entirely, but above that undercrust things don't shatter so completely...most Lithuanians have a remarkably common experience of life.

So...a few fun and interesting observations:

-Bicycles have a designated part of the sidewalk and they USE it. Bikes definitely have the right of way and I've almost been flattened a lot.

-Europeans really do like speedos...

-Waiters will only bring you a bill when you've asked for it, and your allowed to seat yourself. Seriously, you could sit there for hours and they won't do a thing until you track them down.

-Nobody speaks 1 language...we Americans are pretty helpless in this regard

-If you every come to Lithuania get the Kepta Duona...its this amazing combination of rye bread, garlic, cheese, and a deep frier...completely fatal in high doses but incredibly good

Greetings from Lithuania

I'm spending the month of July in Klaipeda, Lithuania and I will be blogging the experience. Some posts will be intentional but a lot of it will be stream of consciousness. I chalk up any terrible culturally insensitive things I may say to jetlag. Enjoy the journey with me!!

So...I don't actually have any pictures of time in Stockholm because, well, I forgot to unpack my camera. It rode comfortably in the belly of a jumbo jet.

Stockholm was a gorgeous city, but DEFINITELY a tourist trap... lots of retired british pensioners and people from other parts of Europe. Btw...Australians, they're EVERWHERE. The city is also ingenious at finding ways to pull money out of you, seriously I spent an insane amount yesterday just going through one national meusem and moving from 2 islands.

One thing I did appreciate about Stockholm was how well they blended some very old culture with very relevant modern activity. Much of the city is concentrated along three islands between a very large lake and the Baltic sea. The city has a very baroque feeling, especially when it comes to architecture, and while there were a few gaudy post-modern facades poking out of the relatively uniform skyline but overall most of the business in Stockholm found a way to meld itself into the established city. There were some very beautiful old apartment buildings that looked like they had been transformed into office buildings. Also, everything ran precisely on time…it was awesome.

BUT ON TO THE MAIN EVENT….

I arrived in Vilnius around 10, which is pretty late, but because of how far north we are the sun was only just setting. The airport is a ways out of town so we had to travel to get to the Hostel I planned to stay at for the night. The airport was also located in what I assume to be one of the seedier districts in Vilnius because it was surrounded by decaying Soviet era apartment complexes...and a few old farmhouses…with goats. There was barely anybody out on the streets and I was almost completely hazed over from having not slept in about 24 hours. When we got to “oldtown” which is where I was staying the sun was basically set and there was no street lights. I was also royally screwed over by my cab driver…I payed almost 3 times what I should have, but who can blame the guy…I was exhausted and in a very unfamiliar place with no one around, I might as well have been a calf.

That being said Vilnius is a beautiful city. I didn’t have the best first impression of Lithuanian, but then again ya gotta give em a second chance! The next morning after much rest and a shower I made a point to walk around Old Town and to visit the Hill of 3 Crosses. You can see most of the city from there and it was pretty breathtaking…once again, I forgot my camera, but don’t worry, I’ll be back there at the end of July.

The weather here is perfect and the food I’ve had so far is phenomenal. Good cheese, good sausage and some INCREDIBLE rye bread. I had these Zuchinni pancakes for lunch with sour cream, Lithuanians seem to find a way to put sour cream on everything. Everything (besides my first cab ride) has been very decently priced as well. I love how a lot of these European cities are dripping in history without seeming like they drown in it.

I’m off to Klaipeda this afternoon! I’ll be sure to take pictures this time.

European Travels- Stream of Consciousness 1

I'm spending the month of July in Klaipeda, Lithuania and I will be blogging the experience. Some posts will be intentional but a lot of it will be stream of consciousness. I chalk up any terrible culturally insensitive things I may say to jetlag. Enjoy the journey with me!!

I've finished the first leg of my journey and I am traveling into the city of Stockholm. The airport is about 30 minutes outside of town but the bus has wifi, which is pretty awesome.

Its currently 3:20 in the morning in chicago. We are 6 hours ahead and I think Lithuania will jump 1 more timezone. The plane trip went okay, not a whole lot of trouble, there was one crying baby but I more felt sad for the parents than upset. This was probably one of the worst times to fly on a plane because jetlag won't kick in until later this afternoon since the night only felt like traveling till 2:00am. It was weird in that we flew far enough north to fly over greenland. The sun never set, they had to close all the windows and turn off the lights to give the impression of darkness and night.

What I've seen of Sweden thus far is really beautiful. If you ever been to the Northwoods of Wisconsin than you get the picture. Lots of lakes, rivers, evergreen trees and farmland. I've seen enough volkswagens to permanently bruise someone's arm. The odd thing is that mixed in with all this evergreen beauty is a lot of IKEA looking factories...lots of flat roofs, clean lines, and proportionally spaced windows and sections. Stockholm should be fun!

Fall From Grace

A poem by an Irish poet. "Fall from Grace"

Returning another autumn we discover a changed regime.

A community reshuffled,

Losing my sponsors in that shake-up,

Roots too shallow.

I fall from grace.

New brooms with fresh sweeps

How easily we become how we're seen.

Failure throws an oblong shadow,

I cover hurts with a jaunty humor, pretend not to care, affect disdain,

Harden the core to day by day humiliations.

Tiny erosions of respect,

learn the slow rustings of shame

And laugh a bitter laugh while inside discs of trust skew and warp.

Were can you turn, you've made your bed now widower to your dream.

How many faces must a wound wear

Iconoclast, windmill tilter, self-saboteur.

Stunted years of a poise too hard won,

Yet in such moves the spiral turns,

Nothing,

A squall in a child's cup.

But you're the child, this is your cup.

I owe no master, my gods of innocence fallen

I cling a fragile self-reliance.

In Memoriam

A friend and mentor of mine tragically passed away last Sunday. His death was a complete shock and an utter tragedy. He was a great man who mentored and counseled an untold number of college students. He will be greatly missed.

His funeral is today, and in honor of his passing I post the lyrics and a video of "In Paradisum." This chant is frequently the concluding refrain of a Musical Requiem.

May Angels lead you into paradise;

may the Martyrs receive you at your coming

and lead you to the holy city of Jerusalem.

May a choir of Angels receive you,

and with Lazarus, who once was poor, may you have eternal rest.

Against Depression

A Prayer of Saint Ignatius for those suffering from depression, or weary hearts.

O Christ Jesus,
when all is darkness

and we feel our weakness and helplessness,

give us the sense of Your presence,

Your love, and Your strength.

Help us to have perfect trust

in Your protecting love

and strengthening power,

so that nothing may frighten or worry us,

for, living close to You,

we shall see Your hand,

Your purpose, Your will through all things.

-St. Ignatius of Loyola

The Prayer St. Patrick

In belated honor of St. Patricks Day: A Prayer of St. Patrick.

I must give credit for finding this to Skye Jethani, an thinker and author. Read his blog here.

A brief history of St. Patrick's life can be found here.

I arise today

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,

Through the belief in the threeness,

Through confession of the oneness

Of the Creator of Creation.

I arise today

Through the strength of Christ’s birth with his baptism,

Through the strength of his crucifixion with his burial,

Through the strength of his resurrection with his ascension,

Through the strength of his descent for the judgment of Doom.

I arise today

Through the strength of the love of Cherubim,

In obedience of angels,

In the service of archangels,

In hope of resurrection to meet with reward,

In prayers of patriarchs,

In predictions of prophets,

In preaching of apostles,

In faith of confessors,

In innocence of holy virgins,

In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today

Through the strength of heaven:

Light of sun,

Radiance of moon,

Splendor of fire,

Speed of lightning,

Swiftness of wind,

Depth of sea,

Stability of earth,

Firmness of rock.

I arise today

Through God’s strength to pilot me:

God’s might to uphold me,

God’s wisdom to guide me,

God’s eye to look before me,

God’s ear to hear me,

God’s word to speak for me,

God’s hand to guard me,

God’s way to lie before me,

God’s shield to protect me,

God’s host to save me

From snares of devils,

From temptations of vices,

From everyone who shall wish me ill,

Afar and anear,

Alone and in multitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and those evils,

Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,

Against incantations of false prophets,

Against black laws of pagandom

Against false laws of heretics,

Against craft of idolatry,

Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,

Against every knowledge that corrupts man’s body and soul.

Christ to shield me today

Against poison, against burning,

Against drowning, against wounding,

So that there may come to me abundance of reward.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,

Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,

Christ on my right, Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in every eye that sees me,

Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,

Through belief in the threeness,

Through confession of the oneness,

Of the Creator of Creation

Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday. A poem by T.S. Eliot

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is
nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessèd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.


II
Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been
contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.

Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other,
Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.



III

At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitul face of hope and of despair.

At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jaggèd, like an old man's mouth drivelling, beyond
repair,
Or the toothed gullet of an agèd shark.

At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind
over the third stair,
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair.


Lord, I am not worthy
Lord, I am not worthy

but speak the word only.

IV
Who walked between the violet and the violet
Who walked between
The various ranks of varied green
Going in white and blue, in Mary's colour,
Talking of trivial things
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour
Who moved among the others as they walked,
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the
springs

Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand
In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary's colour,
Sovegna vos

Here are the years that walk between, bearing
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking,
wearing

White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but
spoke no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

And after this our exile


V
If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.



O my people, what have I done unto thee.


Where shall the word be found, where will the word
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence
Not on the sea or on the islands, not
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,
For those who walk in darkness
Both in the day time and in the night time
The right time and the right place are not here
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny
the voice

Will the veiled sister pray for
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose
thee,
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season,
time and time, between
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who
wait
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray
For children at the gate
Who will not go away and cannot pray:
Pray for those who chose and oppose


O my people, what have I done unto thee.


Will the veiled sister between the slender
Yew trees pray for those who offend her
And are terrified and cannot surrender
And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks
In the last desert before the last blue rocks
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert
Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.



O my people.



VI
Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth

This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the
garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

Ash Wednesday
T.S. Eliot