The Dream of the Rood

I simply had to post this, 'twas optional under literature for school. I had seen bits and pieces before, but one really must read all of it.

Listen! The choicest of visions I wish to tell,
which came as a dream in middle-night,
after voice-bearers lay at rest.
It seemed that I saw a most wondrous tree
born aloft, wound round by light,5
brightest of beams. All was that beacon
sprinkled with gold. Gems stood
fair at earth's corners; there likewise five
shone on the shoulder-span . All there beheld the Angel of God,
fair through predestiny. Indeed, that was no wicked one's gallows,10
but holy souls beheld it there,
men over earth, and all this great creation.
Wondrous that victory-beam--and I stained with sins,
with wounds of disgrace. I saw glory's tree
honored with trappings, shining with joys,15
decked with gold; gems had
wrapped that forest tree worthily round.
Yet through that gold I clearly perceived
old strife of wretches, when first it began
to bleed on its right side. With sorrows most troubled,20
I feared that fair sight. I saw that doom-beacon
turn trappings and hews: sometimes with water wet,
drenched with blood's going; sometimes with jewels decked.
But lying there long while, I,
troubled, beheld the Healer's tree,25
until I heard its fair voice.
Then best wood spoke these words:
"It was long since--I yet remember it--
that I was hewn at holt's end,
moved from my stem. Strong fiends seized me there,30
worked me for spectacle; cursèd ones lifted me.
On shoulders men bore me there, then fixed me on hill;
fiends enough fastened me. Then saw I mankind's Lord
come with great courage when he would mount on me.
Then dared I not against the Lord's word35
bend or break, when I saw earth's
fields shake. All fiends
I could have felled, but I stood fast.
The young hero stripped himself--he, God Almighty--
strong and stout-minded. He mounted high gallows,40
bold before many, when he would loose mankind.
I shook when that Man clasped me. I dared, still, not bow to earth,
fall to earth's fields, but had to stand fast.
Rood was I reared. I lifted a mighty King,
Lord of the heavens, dared not to bend.45
With dark nails they drove me through: on me those sores are seen,
open malice-wounds. I dared not scathe anyone.
They mocked us both, we two together. All wet with blood I was,
poured out from that Man's side, after ghost he gave up.
Much have I born on that hill50
of fierce fate. I saw the God of hosts
harshly stretched out. Darknesses had
wound round with clouds the corpse of the Wielder,
bright radiance; a shadow went forth,
dark under heaven. All creation wept,55
King's fall lamented. Christ was on rood.
But there eager ones came from afar
to that noble one. I beheld all that.
Sore was I with sorrows distressed, yet I bent to men's hands,
with great zeal willing. They took there Almighty God,60
lifted him from that grim torment. Those warriors abandoned me
standing all blood-drenched, all wounded with arrows.
They laid there the limb-weary one, stood at his body's head;
beheld they there heaven's Lord, and he himself rested there,
worn from that great strife. Then they worked him an earth-house,65
men in the slayer's sight carved it from bright stone,
set in it the Wielder of Victories. Then they sang him a sorrow-song,
sad in the eventide, when they would go again
with grief from that great Lord. He rested there, with small company.
But we there lamenting a good while70
stood in our places after the warrior's cry
went up. Corpse grew cold,
fair life-dwelling. Then someone felled us
all to the earth. That was a dreadful fate!
Deep in a pit one delved us. Yet there Lord's thanes,75
friends, learned of me,. . . . . . . . . . .
adorned me with silver and gold.
Now you may know, loved man of mine,
what I, work of baleful ones, have endured
of sore sorrows. Now has the time come80
when they will honor me far and wide,
men over earth, and all this great creation,
will pray for themselves to this beacon. On me God's son
suffered awhile. Therefore I, glorious now,
rise under heaven, and I may heal85
any of those who will reverence me.
Once I became hardest of torments,
most loathly to men, before I for them,
voice-bearers, life's right way opened.
Indeed, Glory's Prince, Heaven's Protector,90
honored me, then, over holm-wood.
Thus he his mother, Mary herself,
Almighty God, for all men,
also has honored over all woman-kind.
Now I command you, loved man of mine,95
that you this seeing tell unto men;
discover with words that it is glory's beam
which Almighty God suffered upon
for all mankind's manifold sins
and for the ancient ill-deeds of Adam.100
Death he tasted there, yet God rose again
by his great might, a help unto men.
He then rose to heaven. Again sets out hither
into this Middle-Earth, seeking mankind
on Doomsday, the Lord himself,105
Almighty God, and with him his angels,
when he will deem--he holds power of doom--
everyone here as he will have earned
for himself earlier in this brief life.
Nor may there be any unafraid110
for the words that the Wielder speaks.
He asks before multitudes where that one is
who for God's name would gladly taste
bitter death, as before he on beam did.
And they then are afraid, and few think115
what they can to Christ's question answer.
Nor need there then any be most afraid
who ere in his breast bears finest of beacons;
but through that rood shall each soul
from the earth-way enter the kingdom,120
who with the Wielder thinks yet to dwell."
I prayed then to that beam with blithe mind,
great zeal, where I alone was
with small company. My heart was
impelled on the forth-way, waited for in each125
longing-while. For me now life's hope:
that I may seek that victory-beam
alone more often than all men,
honor it well. My desire for that
is much in mind, and my hope of protection130
reverts to the rood. I have not now many
strong friends on this earth; they forth hence
have departed from world's joys, have sought themselves glory's King;
they live now in heaven with the High-Father,
dwell still in glory, and I for myself expect135
each of my days the time when the Lord's rood,
which I here on earth formerly saw,
from this loaned life will fetch me away
and bring me then where is much bliss,
joy in the heavens, where the Lord's folk140
is seated at feast, where is bliss everlasting;
and set me then where I after may
dwell in glory, well with those saints
delights to enjoy. May he be friend to me
who here on earth earlier died145
on that gallows-tree for mankind's sins.
He loosed us and life gave,
a heavenly home. Hope was renewed
with glory and gladness to those who there burning endured.
That Son was victory-fast in that great venture,150
with might and good-speed, when he with many,
vast host of souls, came to God's kingdom,
One-Wielder Almighty: bliss to the angels
and all the saints--those who in heaven
dwelt long in glory--when their Wielder came,155
Almighty God, where his homeland was.


Now think about that for the next three months.
(It may possibly be that long 'ere I post again.) :P

Washington!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

was awesome.
       Did I even need to say so? How could hiking, kayaking, fishing, cooking, eating, laughing, singing, driving, climbing, falling, ect. be anything else? I was a little doubtful of this Venturing thing at first. The people were so... so... not Norrisopolians. But it has turned out to be something like heaven must be. No doubt heaven will be grander and more glorious, but really, as far as old Terra goes, this is pretty close.
       In the Venture Crew, ever since Otto started wearing a hat all the time to keep his long, flowing, Aragorn hair out of his eyes, there has been a sort of hat thing. So there we were in the car all wearing the next person's hat and singing "My Father's House". You know, rather like this...
       "There'll be a big, big, house - with lots and lots a rooms,
        a big, big, table - with lots and lots a FOOOOOOOOD!!!
        a big, big yard - where we can play SOCCER!!!...."
No football for us! No sirree.
      Then there was the time when Collin told me that he had dropped my Dad's iPhone. Not just dropped it, but let it plummet from the unearthly height of the Space Needle to multileveled Seattle below, maybe even into some iridescent cavern of that building notoriously without right angles (the Seattle Museum of Music). He informed me that my father was extremely unhappy, that he was, in fact, angry - this made me suspicious, my Dad probably would have laughed - but nonetheless, I was worried. Collin had been cheerful for several days (rare) and that would have been enough to plunge a person into "the depths of despair"...
       ...Say! Will you look at that! Gullible is written on the ceiling! Hehe :)
Running out of time! There are too many stories to tell, I'll try to find some pictures eventually...

But oh the horror! Morgan can't be president anymore! What will we do without her!

Thephalumpamathingymajig

          So, ah - ahem, you who might by chance have stopped by may have been thinking to yourselves, "She really hasn't written anything in quite a while," and you Inklings were likely thinking, "Umm, where did she go?" Explanation needed.
         Vell, first there was a deadline for ze house construction, then I went high-adventuring in Costa Rica, then I was so tired that I couldn't think, and then there was another house deadline for some such other thingy. Thence I have been doing "ing things" like Wooton talks about Boy Scouts doing, "hiking, climbing, camping, falling, hurting, losing, screaming for help," and all that good stuff, but I have also been furniture-lugging, praying, house-organizing, cleaning, cooking, Bible studying, sanding, sawing, thinking, polyurathaneing, and cogitating on how to survive the Lego League season this year while attempting school at the same time. Soooooo, that's why I have not written anythinks about space trilogies or life or whatnot, because there's too much life and too much space and everything seems like whatnot when it goes by at this speed.
       That list may not have sounded as hectic as it actually is because I put in things like praying and Bible studying and cogitating. But what I mean is praying that I won't follow suit when all the dearest are either dying or coming apart at the seams, and ravenously devouring that beautiful book trying to figure out what to do when life is hammering in at every side like a jackrabbithammer.
        Oh yeah, and then there was Washington, and the Grand Lake hike, and...did I leave the rest of the summer in Costa Rica? Looks like I'm running out!

BLOG???

You know what? I think it's dangerous for me to have a blog. When I log on here I get like I do around blank paper - you understand, kind of crazy, and with a sudden desperate need for a micron (or keyboard) I start ripping words out of my life and poetry out of the sky until page upon page is filled with, well, me. And with most of me on paper, the rest of me is in a hundred tiny pieces on my desk, each determined to kill the other in twenty horrific different ways. And then with all of them dead, of course nothing gets posted. So tell me, dear Anna, dear Morgan, why am I here and what on mars am I doing? Am I supposed to kill myself in two thousand different ways? I'm marching into a battle with a small army of contradicting ideas at my left and a vocabulary at my right, and guess what? Neither of them are on my side.
Also, I have a mortal fear of Valentine's Day cards.

Hmmm...

Hear ye, hear ye, all ye readers of the post: I, Rosemary, have a thought. (there she goes again)
So, here’s what I was honking about.
Idols.
Be puzzled. OK, thank you, you don’t have to be puzzled anymore.
I was getting to know a storybook character that I am [not] writing about [yet] and things started floating across my mind. You know, the sort that keep me from getting very far in anything without becoming severely distracted.
You’ve all been told this, DO NOT idolize stuff. You see it. You hear it. Maybe you even do it. It is the American Problem of the Century[s]. But as we were talking, my character started to hint of something else.
Idolizing finite material is wrong, you all know that, but supposing idolizing a human being is worse? Are we not to serve? Did not the Son of God give his very life for them? Are we not to love them as ourselves? But that is the very danger! To make a god out of living being created in the image of the one true God is so close! So close to the truth, so much more noble, so much higher than to worship one of those old villains Ego or Mammon (yeah, I personify random things). Unlike your hair curler, mankind is eternal, we will inherit the Kingdom of God. To we who have been gifted with purpose, to we who have been marked with the fingerprints of God Himself, we know how much “more right” it is to live for another - how much “more true”. Like our dear friend Jack said in the Great Divorce (READ IT, I command you), “The higher and mightier a thing in its natural order, the more demonic it will be if it rebels. Demons are not made of bad mice or bad fleas, are they? No! But of fallen archangels!” or something along those lines, I’m paraphrasing. Something about fleas... :S Think about it, what could be higher than agape? Worshipful, all consuming, self sacrificing love. You cannot give that to a stick or a rock. But just as it would have been scandalous for Mary to anoint any old fellow with pure nard - though one could as a very extravagant service - it is wrong to make an idol, to pour out all we can give, to make ourselves a living sacrifice to any other than the One who is agape.
So if something is "more true" or "more right" but not exactly true or right - just like if it should be human but isn't quite (or if it once was but isn't yet) - you keep your eyes on it and feel for your hatchet.
I know this all looks as obvious as “the sum of the angles of a triangle must equal one-eighty” when it’s written out. But for some reason I’ve never thought of it this way before and I wanted to inform you of my discovery.
My character told me about this through the mistakes in his life. And just so you know, he never would have made them if I hadn’t first.


I just love C.S. Lewis. The genius! My awesome, British, forever-Young namesake got to hear him speak several times. Grrrrr, I'm jealous.....

[THIS SPACE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK]

Soooo...I've failed miserably in my attempt to post every other day, but who on mars would want to read random ramblings so often anyway? I'm just here because my outer cerebral cortex feels like it's dead, I shan't say my brain because my cerebellum is just fine, thank you.
'Smorning I invaded Treatville quite successfully and did school there....ummm, not so successfully. At the prospect of Nicholas the First we were suddenly enraptured in painting and in medieval and scriptic fonts. After which followed an argument about the spelling of (ahem) Tsar, which is also correct as Czar, Csar, and Tzar.We decided that the look of the thing is all that matters and that the look differs with *font* - back to that again. But when I was introduced to - http://owlcityblog.com/2011/04/04/hercules-goes-bananas/ - this! laughter ensued with a vengeance. Some time around there we were informed my Johnnynotfat that luncheon was anticipating its hour of vanquishment! And in case you were wondering where education came in, I did complete a portion of Geometry and accidentally learned a lot about Nicholas the First and his brother Alexander among many other things, it's just that those weren't as interesting.
When I came home on my bike, splattered with rain, I was bombarded by a cross between second-breakfast and afternoon tea which would have done justice to the Shire itself.
Then!
Biology.
Imma tell you before you tell me that you don't need to know all the details of vertebrae and dorsal nerve chords at the moment. But apparently I now have a hippocampus made out of bone, how about you?
"Nif" in the Norrisopolian dialect is a word that expresses the wish that things were otherwise, whereas "ni" is an expression of frustration.

Do you ever plead desperately with pacman ghosts?

Today...

I personally think it's weird that I have a blob at all. Isn't it to tell everyone about one's life? But if Morgie and Anna were going to, I was not to be outdone.
I was honking that I should try to post every other day, so I'm loyally a-postin' even though there isn't anything earth-shattering to say.
I have been making signs for the various provinces of Norrisopolis - so that no one gets lost ;) - so far I've finished the sign for Jeremosamareatheriel (so much fun to say, try it!!) and started the Norrisopolis sign - also fun to say.
But I thought, before I made any confusing blunders, that I should introduce Ye Olde Norrisopolian Vernacular, so that all you foreigners will be capable of future comprendation. Hence, I shall put in a word or so with every post.
First off, you say "honking" not "thinking" - in memory of the English spell-check in China.
Otherwise, it's Silly Sleeves Day, everyone!