Value for Sunday of Week 21 in the season of Growth

Awakening

When we awaken, we see the world in a new way.

  • That is the real spiritual awakening, when something emerges from within you that is deeper than who you thought you were. So, the person is still there, but one could almost say that something more powerful shines through the person. [attributed to Eckhart Tolle]
  • The whole art of teaching is only the art of awakening the natural curiosity of young minds for the purpose of satisfying it afterwards. [Anatole France]
  • If every day is an awakening, you will never grow old. You will just keep growing. [Gail Sheehy]
  • I am not dumb now. [Helen Keller]

***

The development of responsibility tempers us and facilitates progress to the next levels of development. Having explored the second development level, we pause to consider the transformative steps that can lead us to a more advanced level. Simply put, the light comes on as we pay the prices necessary to our development of responsibility. We may call that light, newly shining, awakening.

Real

True Narratives

Technical and Analytical Readings

Photographs

Documentary and Educational Films

Imaginary

Fictional Narratives

On the following morning, she perceived on awaking, that she had been asleep. This singular thing astonished her. She had been so long unaccustomed to sleep! A joyous ray of the rising sun entered through her window and touched her face. At the same time with the sun, she beheld at that window an object which frightened her, the unfortunate face of Quasimodo. She involuntarily closed her eyes again, but in vain; she fancied that she still saw through the rosy lids that gnome’s mask, one-eyed and gap-toothed. Then, while she still kept her eyes closed, she heard a rough voice saying, very gently,— “Be not afraid. I am your friend. I came to watch you sleep. It does not hurt you if I come to see you sleep, does it? What difference does it make to you if I am here when your eyes are closed! Now I am going. Stay, I have placed myself behind the wall. You can open your eyes again.” There was something more plaintive than these words, and that was the accent in which they were uttered. The gypsy, much touched, opened her eyes. He was, in fact, no longer at the window. She approached the opening, and beheld the poor hunchback crouching in an angle of the wall, in a sad and resigned attitude. She made an effort to surmount the repugnance with which he inspired her. “Come,” she said to him gently. From the movement of the gypsy’s lips, Quasimodo thought that she was driving him away; then he rose and retired limping, slowly, with drooping head, without even daring to raise to the young girl his gaze full of despair. “Do come,” she cried, but he continued to retreat. Then she darted from her cell, ran to him, and grasped his arm. On feeling her touch him, Quasimodo trembled in every limb. He raised his suppliant eye, and seeing that she was leading him back to her quarters, his whole face beamed with joy and tenderness. She tried to make him enter the cell; but he persisted in remaining on the threshold. “No, no,” said he; “the owl enters not the nest of the lark.” Then she crouched down gracefully on her couch, with her goat asleep at her feet. Both remained motionless for several moments, considering in silence, she so much grace, he so much ugliness. Every moment she discovered some fresh deformity in Quasimodo. Her glance travelled from his knock knees to his humped back, from his humped back to his only eye. She could not comprehend the existence of a being so awkwardly fashioned. Yet there was so much sadness and so much gentleness spread over all this, that she began to become reconciled to it. He was the first to break the silence. “So you were telling me to return?” She made an affirmative sign of the head, and said, “Yes.” [Victor Hugo, Notre-Dame de Paris, or, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1831), Volume II, Book Ninth, Chapter III, “Deaf”.]

Novels and stories:

Poetry

As the immense dew of Florida

Brings forth

The big-finned palm

And green vine angering for life,

 

As the immense dew of Florida

Brings forth hymn and hymn

From the beholder,

Beholding all these green sides

And gold sides of green sides,

 

And blessed mornings,

Meet for the eye of the young alligator,

And lightning colors

So, in me, come flinging

Forms, flames, and the flakes of flames.

[Wallace Stevens, “Nomad Exquisite”]

Other poems:

Music: Composers, artists, and major works

Igor Stravinsky, The Firebird: (L’oiseau de feu) (1910) (list of recorded performances), “was the first international success of the composer’s career.” In Stravinsky’s ballet, a man is entranced by a fantastic creature and then is liberated when he awakes. “The firebirds are creatures of Slavic mythology, mainly present in the old Russian and Ukrainian fairy tales. They were represented as birds made of living fire or light. Finding a firebird’s feather meant that you have found the everlasting magical light that will never cease.

Edvard Grieg must have had an idyllic childhood in his native Norway. Most of his music sounds as though he is reliving happy childhood memories on early spring mornings.

Johann Sebastian Bach, Cantata No. 207a in D Major, “Auf schmetternde Töne der muntern Trompeten” (Arise, Blaring Tones of Lively Trumpets), BWV 207a (1735) (approx 31-34’) (lyrics) (list of recorded performances)

Albums:

Music: songs and other short pieces

Visual Arts

Film and Stage

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