RIP Rex; Otter cams; and a last editorial.
RIP Rex; Otter cams; and a last editorial.
3 Things this week and a poem about running to the most open arms.
Happy weekend! Thanks for spending part of your day with Things I Wrote Down. And Happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful women we love and celebrate.
I shared the Miracle of Mom this week and hope it blesses someone in your feather-falling world of wonders.
Here are 3 links and a poem.
1. RIP Rex
Rex Murphy, the witty and erudite Canadian commentator passed away this week after battling cancer. He had a face for radio and a Rhodes Scholar mind, and so many of us knew him for his commentary on CBC then at The National Post. I particularly enjoyed his At Issue appearances with Peter Mansbridge and Chantal Hebert. It was always riveting, sharp and refreshing perspective.
My dad loved Rex and would often email his articles to us kids. They were consistently thought-provoking, politically inconvenient for the party in power, and funny. I searched my emails for the last Rex article dad shared with me and it was this, which took the whole Canadian political apparatus to task.
2. Otter cam
Like me, you didn’t know you needed this, but here it is. Vancouver Aquariam’s live sea otter cam.
We recently saw otters up close and personal at the Montreal Biodome. Their joyful playfulness stole the show.
If you need some levity, bookmark the feed.
3. James K. A. Smith’s last editorial for Image
For his last editorial for Image, the journal of art and faith, James K. A. Smith writes about his distaste for the question, “Why is fiction important for people of faith?”
His answer (and approach) to the question is fascinating. Here’s one line that lands:
Arguing about is easier than being. Perhaps this is true in the same way that it’s safer and more comfortable to talk about God than risk actual encounter.
~ from Issue 20 —Haunted Humanism: Monsters and Mystery in Contemporary Fiction
I interviewed Smith when I worked at Compassion Canada about his book focused on Augustine. If you’ve never encountered his work, this is an interesting place to start.
A poem about running to the arms of Christ
This poem challenges me, sheds all the armour. And ever since I wrote it, whenever I come back to it, I'm humbled and perplexed. As a human. As a writer.
I’d love to know what you think (and if I should rework the title).
today I imagined running to the arms of Christ
today I imagined
running to the arms
of Christ
a picture with
no images
nevertheless a reference point
of comfort in
my mind
the way the
face of a beloved
family member
is absent of
features in
memory
when you are
miles away
or separated
by the portal
of death
I could not see
him
and still I ran
to arms that
were open,
arms that were strong
I could not feel
the embrace
could not hold on
to him
or feel sensation
the way one
feels or touches or tastes
I ran to him
because the world
seemed so dark
ran to him through
a letter to a friend
who I reminded of the
person of Jesus
with the reverence
of a Catholic
like he was alive
like he was real
and could hear
when I imagine
running to the arms
of Christ,
my heart beats faster
I cannot see him
but something tells me
I might
© Andrew Kooman