And Was My Friday Good

AND WAS MY FRIDAY GOOD (Friday 21 March)

A dispassionately mundane retelling of the gospel account of Jesus crucifixion, monotonously narrated by Mary Magdalene, with music of a banality that makes one think that perhaps Lloyd-Webber is Verdi’s natural heir. This was ‘Good Friday Liturgy’ (BBC Radio 4), words by Carol Anne Duffy, in what the Radio Times described as having feminist perspective. If having a woman say that she saw the events, rather than a male recorder of the events voice stating what was happening makes it feminist, then ………..!

Having spent a few of the preceding hours listening to Palestrina ‘Stabat Mater’, Liszt ‘Via Crucis’, a plainsong ‘Stabat Mater’ and sections of the Verdi ‘Requiem’, the banality of this special radio production was all the more striking.

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The following is a random jotting which I failed to get around to completing or posting yesterday, presented in glorious Technicolor incompleteness.

MAUNDY THURSDAY ( Thursday 20 March)

On Maundy Thursday, a few random thoughts spring to mind concerning the Last Supper.

I’ve often felt it ironic that the last meal Jesus shared with his disciples, prior to his death by crucifixion, should have been the Passover Seder, a celebration of the Hebrews release from their Egyptian captivity; redemption and death seemed to have been rolled into one. (Pesach derives from the tenth plague when those households whose doorposts were daubed with the blood of the Passover lamb were ‘passed over’ by the avenging angel, a prelude to their release from the Egyptian captivity).

Some scholars however suggest that the meal may have been on the day, a few days before the Passover Seder, when the Passover lambs were slaughtered; this would of course have provided a more instant symbolism.

The symbolic potency of the last supper ( as Passover Seder) becomes truly significant when we realize that through the death of Jesus and the subsequent event known as ‘resurrection’, death itself was overcome, the ultimate liberation from oppression.

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A later posting for today (Friday), A Little Miracle, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'

PC Pro: News: Phorm "highly intrusive and illegal"

BT, Virgin Media and TalkTalk have all signed deals to sell their customer's data to the company, and both the Guardian and MySpace have agreements in place to provide targeted advertising on their websites.

PC Pro: News: Phorm "highly intrusive and illegal"

Mal the Aquarist

Today's blog posting, An aquarists trials and pleasures, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

Ride on, ride on ...

The demonstrations in Tibet, and neighbouring provinces, being met with brutal suppression strike a particular chord this Palm Sunday. Amongst the people dwelling in Palestine there was much unrest, which in its turn was met with brutal suppression by the Roman occupying power and its Herodian quislings.

Into this political ferment Jesus and his followers, a number of whom were Galileans (not the most respected region to hail from), arrived in Jerusalem. Amongst the crowds that welcomed him there were, most probably, those with an urgent desire for social change. Although many of the ideas he had preached were quite simply an extension of those already being disseminated by sections of the religious community, his teaching was expressed with an urgency that commanded attention. A new kingdom, one which turned the values of the ruling elite on their head, was imminent, choices had to be made! Not for Jesus the full regal panoply of the present rulers; in a way the entry into Jerusalem on a humble ass could be seen as cocking a snook at the prevailing powers.

The reasons for the welcome he received can be linked with a variety of expectations, both political and religious. But could this enthusiasm last, was this movement for change an unstoppable force? In a society riddled with informers and agent provocateurs, fear was soon to overtake these ‘supporters’, indeed before long many of his closest followers were in fear for their lives, even to the point of denying that they ever knew him. Jesus was soon to ask his heavenly father to take the cup of suffering away but, this moment of doubt notwithstanding, his conscience wouldn’t permit him to recant, the die was cast. This was his chosen path. To the authorities he was a nuisance, an agitator, a traitor and, as such, he must suffer the most humiliating and degrading death by crucifixion.

To be continued ….

Mal Posts A Murmur

Today's post, NON-TASKING, can be found on 'Mal's Murmurings'.

Pentagon Hyperventilates About China's Military 'Intentions' | ForeignPolicy | AlterNet

A report accuses China of understating its military spending, which is a whopping one-fifteenth of the United States' defense budget.

Pentagon Hyperventilates About China's Military 'Intentions' | ForeignPolicy | AlterNet

A Delicate Balance

Although I’m frequently aware of the close proximity of contentment to complacency, it’s only on rare occasions that the narrow margin between contentment and frustration comes to my attention. Alongside the health improvements of the past twelve months, I have developed an acceptance of those limitations, compared to my state of being five years ago, which drastically curtail so many of those activities which were once part of my daily round.

For at least 75% of my time I dwell in contented acceptance but, a sudden (albeit short-lived) reinstatement of some of the more debilitating aches, pains, and mental numbness, dissolves this sense of modest well-being, replacing it with a general sense of alienation from all that is ‘normal’.

Last night, as I struggled to make it up the staircase, I was reminded of how things were in my darker days but, alongside a feeling gratitude for recent improvements, a sense of frustration creeps in. Rather than being grateful for the relative state of comfort that I live in, a strong current of anger overwhelms me as I consider all the violence and injustice that surrounds us on planet earth. Perhaps this is a righteous anger but, if all I can do about it is sign a few petitions, make a small donation to some of the charities I support, rather than manning the barricades, its effect can be rather negative like resentment.

In one sense though, it is a relief to recognize that the anger is not that of self-pity; the discomforts I face are so paltry, compared to the daily struggle for existence that confronts such a large proportion of humankind.

I am content but not complacent, frustrated but not in despair.

FROM CLARITY TO CANDY STRIPES and thence to vacancy

Prior to going out, for our thwarted Mothering Sunday Meal, I decided to play about on ‘Old Faithful’ (my original tailor-made PC). As I waited for the anti-virus to update, the occasional vertical pinstripe appeared on the screen. A few minutes later, the whole screen was dressed in almost psychedelic candy stripe array. I attempted to switch off the TFT monitor, (date of manufacture: September 2003), to no avail. An attempted re-start of the computer, via the PCs reset switch (the monitor remaining inaccessible) proved futile; the candy stripes resolved themselves into a state of stasis, regardless of the CPUs activity/inactivity.

At this point there was no other option than a forced shut-down of the system.

Having unplugged the monitor, various tests (using alternative transformers etc) determined that the monitor was totally defunct; no more candy stripes, no power led light, just an inert blank black screen!

Evidently, LCDs lack the stamina of good old CRTs; I’ve had far better service from second-hand (office cast-off) CRT monitors than this ProView TFT. Thankfully I have ready access to other machines, otherwise my frustration would have turned to righteous indignation.

Frosted Garden

I had intended to post these pictures, of our garden (taken on 20/21 February 2008), on Mal's Murmurings but, unfortunately, Windows Live would not permit me to sign in - their loss I suppose!

Bruised Without Bruising

This morning, the winds bluster challenges my lungs; it hits my face and takes the breath away. A plenitude of airiness leaves me gasping for air. My body was already feeling buffeted but, this was not of the winds making.

Strange the way that these elemental forces reflect back on me; my feeling leadenly bruised in limbs and torso, it’s impossible not to identify with the howling wind, a desire to wield rather than yield.

I watch the trees flex and strain, as if to minimize the effects of resistance. If only I could take my cue from them. Unfortunately, neither my physique nor will is quite that supple.

I seem to be suffering from the belated aftermath of last weeks endeavours. Transported by an adrenalin rush, I felt a temporary invincibility; reason (or perhaps vanity) told me I could manage a few more little tasks, having decorated the bathroom. After all, the tasks were of extremely modest proportion, but my body still pays the price in terms of a leaden, numb, aching exhaustion.

Psychologically I feel good, a modest overcoming, but physically quite drained.

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This post would have appeared on 'Mal's Murmurings' had I been able to sign in on Windows Live