This has just joined my list of all-time favorite scenes. Something I've often fantasized about getting the opportunity to do.

Why You Will Marry the Wrong Person - Alain de Botton

This is quite good. I don't agree with everything he says, particularly I think that it is possible to find the right one, with the proper Guidance.

You may wonder, given my seemingly romantic tendencies, that I like and (mostly) agree with this. But I'm not actually a "romantic" in the sense in which most moderns mean it. That is, I don't believe in "follow your feelings," or in wishy-washy emotionalism in making decisions about love (or in any area). I guess I'm what you might call a romantic realist: I believe that there is such a thing as True Love, but that we have to get there through a path of wisdom, discipline, sacrifice, knowledge of ourselves and the other, moral virtue, commitment, hard work, and all the other things that the pragmatists advocate. In other words, I believe that the pragmatists and the romantics are both right and wrong: that each only has half (or in some cases, less) of the picture.

To put it metaphorically, emotions are like flowing water. What we want in flowing water is for it to be a nice, clear, cool, sparkling, fresh stream; and for that, we need solid banks or a channel for the water to flow through. Without banks, a river becomes a swamp: this is the mistake of the pure romantic. But the mistake of the pure pragmatist is to build a dam, and try and stop the flow altogether; this, of course, is eventually going to result in disaster. Not only does the water in the resultant lake become muddy and stagnant, but eventually it will either overflow or burst the dam.

All this is especially true in the case of the most powerful emotion, love, and applies to making our choice of partner, as well as all the choices we make throughout the relationship. Just because we feel an emotional connection with someone, doesn't mean that's the person we should marry. But neither should we marry based solely on how the other person "looks on paper," and stifle and dismiss the emotional element altogether. We've got to use both our hearts and our heads. Similarly, divorcing because you "fell out of love" with someone is foolishness, but so is divorcing because your partner isn't living up to your ambitions and expectations.

I heard once, in a movie, the line; "There's always a moment, when you have a choice: 'Do I give in to this or not?'" And I wholeheartedly agree. I, obviously, believe in and am capable of immensely deep and profoundly passionate love. But it only comes after I have allowed myself to experience it, because I have become convinced that it is appropriate and right, or at least possible and permissible. So if, for example, I met a married woman with whom I shared a very real emotional and intellectual connection, and even a physical attraction, I would not consider that real love, and would never allow myself to fall in love with her (nor to act on the attraction in any way), because it would not be appropriate and possible. I might form a friendship with her, if it were feasible, and any other feelings I had, I would regard as just feelings, and they would fade over time.

This may sound like I am pontificating and don't know what I'm talking about--"it's easy to say these things, but have you tried living them?" Well  yes, I have. When I met again the woman for whom I'd carried a flame for 27 years and was convinced I should have married, I hoped I might have a second chance. But when I found out she was married, I put that to rest forever, and finally was able to move on.

Or, to put it all another way, I believe that genuine True Love is metaphysical love; the Love of God, given as a gift for us humans to share between us and in Him. And this can only be achieved within the context of His order.

Anyway, this is quite a good little talk about love from a psychological and philosophical viewpoint. I especially like when he talks about the courage of openness and vulnerability, and how real love is the choice to see the good in the beloved, even in their flaws. Reminiscent of 1 Cor 13: "Love suffers long and is kind. Love envies not, boasts not, is not proud; is not arrogant or rude. It does not dishonor, is not self-seeking; is not easily provoked, and thinks no evil. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. Love believes all things, bears all things, hopes all things, endures all things." That, and the fact that he closes with Kierkegaard, might explain why he and I agree.

Here's something I just learned, although I'm sure You already knew: Bach's second wife was 16 years younger than he was.

Vivaldi Gloria at La Pieta, Venice

This is pure beauty. The only thing it's missing is You. You would fit so perfectly into this that it's almost as if it were designed with you in mind...many of them even have their hair done like yours. And they seem to have (with one notable exception) selected the most beautiful women: women with true, pure, natural beauty, like yours. (Although I have to add, though I may be partial, that even in this assembly of angels, you would have shined, like the pole star amongst the other stars in the heavens.)

I remember once, you and I had a conversation about beauty and power in music, and how the conventional musicological opinion was that power was much more important, even that "power is beauty". Which is, of course, absurd: if power were beauty, then that would mean that I were more beautiful than you, which is the most ridiculous thought in the history of the world. Power is power and beauty is beauty. There is a beauty in power, and there is a power in beauty, but they are not the same. And this is proof of that.

I don't know if you remember last year, when I was going to sell my house and go back to school, but it didn't work out. So I decided not to sell then because I didn't have a clear idea of where to go.

I've decided to list it for sale first thing next spring. That will give me the winter to get it ready. It's no good trying to sell in the winter anyway, especially up here. I'm going to find a good piece of land; flatter than this one, and only partly wooded with some nice open areas for building and planting. If I can, one with a creek or a spring on it. And I'm going to build a nice little log home on it, then start over with my orchard, vineyard, and garden.

This place has just proved to be so troublesome to maintain, because the forest keeps fighting me tooth and nail to reclaim it, and the ground is so rocky and steep, that it's not enjoyable for me. And the house itself never was ideal: kind of an odd layout, and many things not the way I would have preferred them. Plus, it's become a sort of a symbol of isolation and loneliness for me, because of everything that's happened since I moved in, and I want to start fresh somewhere.

I've waited so long for a number of reasons. But to be totally honest, the main one was that I've had this secret hope, deep down, that next time I went looking for a house, You and I would be looking together. I had this idea that I would put this one up for sale, then move into the new place and get it ready, then you'd join me after our wedding. I know it's silly. But I said I was going to be totally honest, and that's what was in my heart.

Anyway, now I'm going to build a little place just for me. I'm thinking something like this (without the red paint):

On a tract like this:

(edit: Sorry, the link is broken. I guess this lot has sold.)

I'm actually glad I waited, because real estate has gone up quite a bit since then, and so much overall since I bought this place that I should do very well coming out of it, and be set up quite nicely in my new place. I will miss my 2.75% interest rate, though.

The Greatness of Bach and the Glory of the Lord

Enough has been said about Bach's genius, and I can add nothing to it. I am no musicologist, nor even an especially knowledgeable amateur. But I was thinking this morning about the universality and transcendence of it, and of the other great works of Christendom. There is good art in many cultures, that speaks to the heart and moves the soul. But there is that something in these works that touches the universal, the infinite, the transcendent, the sublime, that nothing else can match. It is this which gives the works of artists like Bach, Handel, Dante, Shakespeare, Raphael, Donatello, Donne, Hugo, and Tolstoy that aetherial power which moves the human spirit and not just the soul. It is Truth, and not just human truth, but Divine Truth.

Listening to this, the opening of St. John's Passion, is like gazing, with Dante and Beatrice, from the Crystalline Sphere into the High Empyrean. Listen to the music, look deep into this image by Gustav Dore (but don't just see a monochromatic image: bring the glorious pictures of the heavens you've seen from the Hubble telescope to mind, to bring it to life in your mind's eye), and recall the opening words of St. John's Gospel: 

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not."

Soli Deo gloria

"When someone in need tries to push you away, you have to find the strength to hold on tighter."

-- Unknown

You ever regret stupid things, long after you should have forgotten about them?

There was this time, that I was standing alone with a cup of coffee, after a thing. You were standing near me, talking to some people, with your back to me. It was an evening thing, and you were wearing a sleeveless dress. And you looked cold. I wanted to take off my jacket and put it around your shoulders, but I was afraid it would seem...you know. I wish I had done it.

I confess that sometimes I watch your videos. It's dumb thing to do, because it drives me crazy and makes me miserable. But sometimes I just have to see you, and not only in a picture: to see you moving, to watch your face, your expressions, your eyes. Occasionally I'm even brave (or foolish) enough to listen to you speak or play.

That's to preface that I did so recently, and that I adore that beautiful new thing you've done with your hair. You look like a princess.

Another dream of you:

I was standing at the gates of Heaven. They opened, and the Lord came out, dressed in a rose-colored robe: the color of dawn. He was very tall, like a giant. He opened his robe, and you were there, dressed and adorned as a bride (and, by the way, you were gloriously beautiful): he took your hand, brought you to me, and laid your hand in mine.