Monday, November 03, 2003
Seasons change, but beatings from St. John do not...
Another Sunday night reading group on the back porch. It seemed like summer would never end! However, last night it was clear; a late fall has arrived. Evidence of this found in the sweater, pants and shoes worn rather than t-shirt, shorts and sandals that previously was the norm. The beer was Gordon Biersch Marzen. The pipe tobacco was old dried zip lock bag blend, given to me by John when I first took up a pipe in trade for cigarettes. The reading was the 22nd step on the Ladder of Divine Ascent, Vainglory.
Like the sun which shines on all alike, vainglory beams on every
occupation. What I mean is this. I fast, and turn vainglorious. I stop
fasting so that I will draw no attention to myself, and I become
vainglorious over my prudence. I dress well or badly, and am vainglorious in
either case. I talk or I hold my peace, and each time I am defeated. No
matter how I shed this prickly thing, a spike remains to stand up against
me.
Lord have mercy!
Another Sunday night reading group on the back porch. It seemed like summer would never end! However, last night it was clear; a late fall has arrived. Evidence of this found in the sweater, pants and shoes worn rather than t-shirt, shorts and sandals that previously was the norm. The beer was Gordon Biersch Marzen. The pipe tobacco was old dried zip lock bag blend, given to me by John when I first took up a pipe in trade for cigarettes. The reading was the 22nd step on the Ladder of Divine Ascent, Vainglory.
Like the sun which shines on all alike, vainglory beams on every
occupation. What I mean is this. I fast, and turn vainglorious. I stop
fasting so that I will draw no attention to myself, and I become
vainglorious over my prudence. I dress well or badly, and am vainglorious in
either case. I talk or I hold my peace, and each time I am defeated. No
matter how I shed this prickly thing, a spike remains to stand up against
me.
Lord have mercy!
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