“OUR sanctification is an edifice built up of grains of sand and drops of water. For example, it consists of trifles at a glance repressed, a word held back, a smile checked, a line unfinished, a souvenir stifled, a welcome letter read only once and that rapidly, a natural reaction boldly restrained, a wearisome bore politely endured, an outburst of irritation suppressed at once, refraining from a useless purchase, overcoming fits of depression, tempering nature’s transports with thoughts of God’s Presence in us, overcoming repugnances: what is all this? Just insignificant trifles in the eyes of men who may not see them, but wonderfully clear to him who dwells within us. Here is what we have to watch closely. Here are both the smallest and the greatest proofs of fidelity that will draw down torrents of grace upon the soul.”
“THE first thing to see is that this enormous normality is like a mountain; and one that is capable of being a volcano. Every abnormality that is now opposed to it is like a mole-hill; and the earnest sociological organisers of it are exceedingly like moles. But the mountain is a volcano in another sense also; as suggested in that tradition of the southern fields fertilised by larva. It has a creative as well as a destructive side; and it only remains, in this part of the analysis, to note the political effect of this extra-political institution, and the political ideals of which it has been the champion; and perhaps the only permanent champion.
“The ideal for which it stands in the state is liberty. It stands for liberty for the very simple reason with which this rough analysis started. It is the only one of these institutions that is at once necessary and voluntary. Read More »
The Apostles in Prayer, Metropolitan Museum of Art
“THE best crosses are the heaviest, and the heaviest are those which arouse our greatest repugnance, those which we do not choose, the crosses we find in the streets, and better still those we find at home. These are to be preferred to hair-shirts, disciplines, fasts, and all other practices of austerity. There is always something of overnicety in the crosses we choose; because there is something of self in them, they are less crucifying. Humble yourself, therefore, and accept those which are imposed upon you against your will.”
“[T]he efficacy of contrition does not simply consist in ceasing to sin, or in resolving to begin, or having actually begun a new life; it supposes first of all a hatred of one’s ill-spent life and a desire of atoning for past transgressions.
“…. The word means the breaking of an object into small parts by means of a stone or some harder substance; and here it is used metaphorically, to signify that our hearts, hardened by pride, are beaten and broken by penance. Hence no other sorrow, not even that which is felt for the death of parents, or children, is called contrition. The word is exclusively employed to express the sorrow with which we are overwhelmed by the forfeiture of the grace of God and of our own innocence.
“… for as ulcers are lanced with a knife in order to allow the escape of the poisonous matter accumulated within, so the heart, as it were, is pierced with the lance of contrition, to enable it to emit the deadly poison of sin.”
— Catechism of the Council of Trent, Transl. by John McHugh and Charles Callan, 1923
Susan Bell,
Chair of the Board
National Audubon Society
Dear Mrs. Bell,
I am an ordinary bird lover who recently visited the society’s museum in Audubon, Pennsylvania. I am also a longtime admirer of the society’s namesake, John James Audubon, one of the greatest artists who ever lived.
Audubon, as you well know, has been accused of “racism.” In an exhibit at the museum, on my recent visit, his life was described as, in part, “despicable.”
I do not believe Audubon, who wrote so movingly of the virtues and nobility of the American Indians he met in the wilderness, was “racist.” Not at all. Even so, I would like to join with those requesting his name be erased and his legacy officially canceled.
Please remove his name and disassociate his great works from your “non-profit” corporation. I only offer this suggestion because your organization has solicited advice.
The truth is, Audubon doesn’t belong anymore.
A quixotic genius and self-taught explorer who experienced poverty and other hardships in his project to render the birds of America, Audubon wasn’t impressed with the Puritanical zealotry of certain 19th-century abolitionists. He would have even more so, I strongly believe, disavowed the fanatical Puritans of today, the zealots, killjoys and thought cops who rule “non-profit” corporations such as yours and who are imposing a variety of political guilt trips on every visit to the woods, mountains or wetlands.
Certainly Audubon would not have approved of the society’s use of political buzzwords such as “equity, inclusion and diversity.” He knew almost anyone with two legs could walk into the backwoods and anyone with ears could listen to birdsong. He well knew that birds are universally accessible, the most “inclusive” of creatures.
He was also a family man to the end, through great sacrifice. He wouldn’t have approved of your perverse promotion of drag queens and “queers.” Audubon loved nature. He was not at war with it, except in minor practicalities. As for your organization’s political obsession with “climate change,” there too he doesn’t belong. He fought with weather on his exhausting excursions to capture and view birds, not against it in a cosmic political project that just so happens to coincide with the totalitarian objectives of a world state, which he certainly would have abhorred, valuing freedom and the wilderness as he did.
Audubon was a self-made man — not a crybaby or a whiner. He worked against extraordinary odds. He wasn’t anything like the pseudo-scientific technocrats, political victimologists or social engineers the Audubon Society promotes today. Audubon wasn’t even, first and foremost, a scientist.
He brought incalculable joy and wonder to humanity. His dramatic prints of birds are even better than real birds, such is the mystery of true art. Please let him be. Let him fall into obscurity.
Let those of us who love birds and beauty, who are proud of all that Americans of the past did to expand the knowledge of birds, cherish Audubon’s works without any trace of guilt. No offense, but we don’t need you as we continue to hold his legacy close to our hearts. I don’t mean this as a personal attack, but your organization has become a boring, scolding, obscene, sex-mad, equality-addled, over-funded, ornithological super-nanny, a monstrous threat to any genuine love of nature. Please let him rest in peace.
Cows in a marshy landscape, Jean-Baptist-Camille Corot
A March Calf
Right from the start he is dressed in his best – his blacks and his whites
Little Fauntleroy – quiffed and glossy,
A Sunday suit, a wedding natty get-up,
Standing in dunged straw
Under cobwebby beams, near the mud wall,
Half of him legs,
Shining-eyed, requiring nothing more
But that mother’s milk come back often.
Everything else is in order, just as it is.
Let the summer skies hold off, for the moment.
This is just as he wants it.
A little at a time, of each new thing, is best.
Too much and too sudden is too frightening –
When I block the light, a bulk from space,
To let him in to his mother for a suck,
He bolts a yard or two, then freezes,
Staring from every hair in all directions,
Ready for the worst, shut up in his hopeful religion,
A little syllogism
With a wet blue-reddish muzzle, for God’s thumb.
You see all his hopes bustling
As he reaches between the worn rails towards
The topheavy oven of his mother.
He trembles to grow, stretching his curl-tip tongue –
What did cattle ever find here
To make this dear little fellow
So eager to prepare himself?
He is already in the race, and quivering to win –
His new purpled eyeball swivel-jerks
In the elbowing push of his plans.
Hungry people are getting hungrier,
Butchers developing expertise and markets,
But he just wobbles his tail – and glistens
Within his dapper profile
Unaware of how his whole lineage
Has been tied up.
He shivers for feel of the world licking his side.
He is like an ember – one glow
Of lighting himself up
With the fuel of himself, breathing and brightening.
Soon he’ll plunge out, to scatter his seething joy,
To be present at the grass,
To be free on the surface of such a wideness,
To find himself himself. To stand. To moo.
“HAVE mercy on me, O God, according to Thy great mercy. And according to the multitude of Thy tender mercies: blot out my iniquity. Wash me more yet from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my iniquity, and my sin is always before me. Against Thee only have I sinned, and done evil in Thy sight: that Thou mayst be justified in Thy words, and mayst overcome when Thou art judged. For behold, I was conceived in iniquities: and in sins did my mother conceive me. For behold, Thou hast loved truth: the uncertain and hidden things of Thy wisdom Thou hast made manifest unto me.” Psalm 50
In the 1950s-‘60s, this corner storefront in south St. Louis was the home of Mrs. Smith’s Confectionary.
On summer days in 1958-’59, my boyhood pal Jeff and I walked into this confectionary to buy as many packs of Topps baseball cards as our dimes and nickels would allow. The baseball cards were wonderful. The pink bubble gum that came with them was a challenge to endure for more than five minutes. At that time, there was no Diversity in the neighborhood. The building looked much the same as it does in this newspaper photo from 1976.
Below is Mrs. Smith’s Confectionary, 2022 A.D. (After The Diversity):
There is no word yet on whether a plaque will be awarded to The Diversity who added these charming touches to the building.
“Every kind of suffering.” The things men suffer may be understood in two ways. By “kind” we may mean a particular, individual suffering, and in this sense there was no reason why Christ should suffer every kind of suffering, for many kinds of suffering are contrary the one to the other, as for example, to be burnt and to be drowned. We are of course speaking of Our Lord as suffering from causes outside himself, for to suffer the suffering effected by internal causes, such as bodily sickness, would not have become him. But if by “kind” we mean the class, then Our Lord did suffer by every kind of suffering, as we can show in three ways:
1. By considering the men through whom He suffered. For He suffered something at the hands of Gentiles and of Jews, of men and even of women as the story of the servant girl who accused St. Peter goes to show. He suffered, again, at the hands of rulers, of their ministers, and of the people, as was prophesied, Why have the Gentiles raged; and the people devised vain things? The kings of the earth stood up, and the princes met together against the Lord and against his Christ (Ps. ii. i, 2). Read More »
“THE Religion of Man is propagated by all modern means. One of its popular appeals is to Peace, but there is no peace, only agitation. ‘Peace’ as constantly shouted simply means surrender — surrender to the forces striving to bring all mankind to a condition of state slavery. The Church’s most persistent enemies have always contended that it was only religion, particularly the Catholic religion, by insisting upon divinely revealed absolute truths, which obstructs a peace based on secular good fellowship. Presumably peace and the good life would follow from a worldwide brotherhood in which all men would be equal. And so it is that such words as ‘discrimination’ and ‘prejudice’ have taken on a special meaning. They are the capital sins of the Religion of Man.
“‘Love’ is another ‘relevant’ word. As it is now commonly noised about, literally no one takes it to mean or even include the love of God. Man is now to be the sole object of love, which as conceived now is only sentiment and emotion. Quite certainly those who will openly oppose this new religion in the future will reap the hatred of the Love shouters, as they do even now in some degree. Pope Benedict XV warned in his time that ‘all the worst and most disordered elements of society ardently desires the revolution.’ Long before Pope Benedict’s time, the French revolutionists set up the guillotine in the name of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.”
Be those few hours, which I have yet to spend,
Blest with the meditation of my end:
Though they be few in number, I’m content:
If otherwise, I stand indifferent.
Nor makes it matter Nestor’s years to tell,
If man lives long, and if he live not well.
A multitude of days still heaped on,
Seldom brings order, but confusion.
Might I make choice, long life should be withstood;
Nor would I care how short it were, if good:
Which to effect, let ev’ry passing-bell
Possess my thoughts, “next comes my doleful knell”; Read More »
“SOME think that one should not speak of the dead except in sighs and tears, or in the accents of tragedy. This may be the reason why some persons absolutely bar this subject from their conversation, and sometimes even will not have the name of a departed member of the family mentioned in their presence. This indicates a false conception of sorrow and also of immortality. To live in the memory of the departed does not mean to live in the horrors of their agonies and to perpetuate the heartbreaks of separation. On the contrary, it is to live in their former presence and in its continuation in the spiritual world. It means to feed on their instructions, to rekindle the living flame of their tender affection, and to put into our lives and conduct the seal of their good example.
“This should be the aim of our conversations when we speak about the dead. These conversations might be serious, but they should remain serene, and nothing should prevent their being sweet and enjoyable; indeed the proper discipline of grief demands it. Man cannot bear the doleful and lugubrious for any length of time. To speak of our departed in such tones will soon tire others and even ourselves. In that case nothing else is to be done but to banish them from our thoughts and from the course of our daily lives, and thus bury them a second time and forever.
“We can do something better to prove that we mourn their loss; it is to allow them to continue holding the place they occupied while they were still alive, and to include them in our confidences, our chats and in our meditations as well.
“Whether our solitary meditations be silent reveries or our meditations in public be an unburdening of ourselves to friends, they must always be endowed with the same character, that of a tonic and cordial for the soul. All that might depress, weaken us, render us less apt to accomplish our task, or bear our burden less bravely, must be banished. All that can purify, strengthen us, increase our love of life and our power for greater good must be found in them.”
“LIVING on the surface of the soul, we come to live on the surface in everything; for he who knows not how to penetrate within the soul has forgotten how to penetrate into the depths of anything else. He is taken up with externals, and matters of detail become chiefly important to him. Thus in duties and obligations, he sees the letter rather than the spirit, the bark rather than the sap, the body rather than the soul. He knows that such and such details are prescribed, ‘and certain others forbidden. He sees the external side of the law, the material fact of the prescription, and this is the only thing to which he attaches a certain amount of importance. He does not see the inward side, the reason and end of the prescription, the spirit of the law ; and thus he brings an external and mechanical fidelity to the material observance of the letter which he sees and which killeth, without drawing any inspiration from the spirit which quickeneth,! and which he does not see. Read More »
“NOT far from the Jordan, there rises a rugged mountain, which has received, in after ages, the name of Quarantana. It commands a view of the fertile plain of Jericho, the Jordan, and the Dead Sea. It is within a cave of this wild rock that the Son of God now enters, his only companions being the dumb animals who have chosen this same for their own shelter. He has no food wherewith to satisfy the pangs of hunger; the barren rock can yield him no drink; his only bed must be of stone. Here he is to spend Forty Days; after which, he will permit the Angels to visit him and bring him food.
“Thus does our Saviour go before us on the holy path of Lent. He has borne all its fatigues and hardships, that so we, when called upon to tread the narrow way of our Lenten Penance, might have His example wherewith to silence the excuses, and sophisms, and repugnances, of self-love and pride. The lesson is here too plainly given not to be understood; the law of doing penance for sin is here too clearly shown, and we cannot plead ignorance; let us honestly accept the teaching and practise it. Jesus leaves the Desert where he had spent the Forty Days, and begins his preaching with these words, which he addresses to all men: Do penance, for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand [St. Matth. iv. 17]. Let us not harden our hearts to this invitation, lest there be fulfilled in us the terrible threat contained in those other words of our Redeemer: Unless ye shall do penance, ye shall perish [St. Luke, xiii. 3].”
“NGOs, Think Tanks, Globalist Billionaires, and Multilateral Organizations all conspire to engineer the movement of non-European peoples into the West. Their goal: the replacement of Europeans and their cultures. The major financiers of this agenda are discussed in this [2020] video.”
