Working Papers or "Veniam Pro Laudo Peto"
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Thoreau's Walden and St. Patrick's Lorica

Thursday, October 14, 2004
The possibilities and wonders of life are gifts from God to us and to our children. Everyday offers new wonders and new fears new joys and new sorrows that are contained in infiniate wonders. "I arise today.." as St. Patrick states in his Lorica. What we arise too has numerous possibilities...who we arise to should have one possibility. I arise to God. All the joys, sufferings, prayers and possibilities are offered up to God through Mary. Such wonders that this life has, such possibilities for doing good even through our pains...if we just offer to Him and belive.

Text below from the conclusion of Walden by Henry David Thoreau:

The life in us is like the water in the river. It may rise this
year higher than man has ever known it, and flood the parched
uplands; even this may be the eventful year, which will drown out
all our muskrats. It was not always dry land where we dwell. I see
far inland the banks which the stream anciently washed, before
science began to record its freshets. Every one has heard the story
which has gone the rounds of New England, of a strong and beautiful
bug which came out of the dry leaf of an old table of apple-tree
wood, which had stood in a farmer's kitchen for sixty years, first
in Connecticut, and afterward in Massachusetts -- from an egg
deposited in the living tree many years earlier still, as appeared
by counting the annual layers beyond it; which was heard gnawing out
for several weeks, hatched perchance by the heat of an urn. Who
does not feel his faith in a resurrection and immortality
strengthened by hearing of this? Who knows what beautiful and
winged life, whose egg has been buried for ages under many
concentric layers of woodenness in the dead dry life of society,
deposited at first in the alburnum of the green and living tree,
which has been gradually converted into the semblance of its
well-seasoned tomb -- heard perchance gnawing out now for years by
the astonished family of man, as they sat round the festive board --
may unexpectedly come forth from amidst society's most trivial and
handselled furniture, to enjoy its perfect summer life at last!
I do not say that John or Jonathan will realize all this; but
such is the character of that morrow which mere lapse of time can
never make to dawn. The light which puts out our eyes is darkness
to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more
day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star.
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