Night had fallen and obscurity engulfed the city while the lights glittered in the palaces and the huts and the shops. The multitudes, wearing their festive raiment, crowded the streets and upon their faces appeared the signs of celebration and contentment.
I avoided the clamour of the throngs and walked alone, contemplating the Man Whose greatness they were honouring, and meditating the Genius of the Ages Who was born in poverty, and lived virtuously, and died on the Cross.
I was pondering the burning torch which was lighted in this humble village in Syria by the Holy Spirit.... The Holy Spirit Who hovers over all the ages, and penetrates one civilization and then another through His truth.
As I reached the public garden, I seated myself on a rustic bench and commenced looking between the naked trees toward the crowded streets; I listened to the hymns and songs of the celebrants.
After an hour of deep thinking, I looked sidewise and was surprised to find a man sitting by me, holding a short branch with which he engraved vague figures on the ground. I was startled, for I had not seen nor heard his approach, but I said within myself, "He is solitary, as I am." And after looking throughly at him, I saw that in spite of his old-fashioned raiment and long hair, he was a dignified man, worthy of attention. It seemed that he detected the thoughts within me, for in a deep and quiet voice he said, "Good evening, my son."
"Good evening to you," I responded with respect.
And he resumed his drawing while the strangely soothing sound of his voice was still echoing in my ears. And I spoke to him again, saying, "Are you a stranger in this city?"
"Yes, I am a stranger in this city and every city," he replied. I consoled him, adding, "A stranger should forget that he is an outsider in these holidays, for there is kindness and generosity in the people." He replied wearily, "I am more a stranger in these days than in any other." Having thus spoken, he looked at the clear skies; his eyes probed the stars and his lips quivered as if he had found in the firmament an image of a distant country. His queer statement aroused my interest, and I said, "This is the time of the year when the people are kind to all other people. The rich remember the poor and the strong have compassion for the weak."
He returned, "Yes, the momentary mercy of the rich upon the poor is bitter, and the sympathy of the strong toward the weak is naught but a reminder of superiority."
I affirmed, "Your words have merit, but the weak poor do not care to know what transpires in the heart of the rich, and the hungry never think of the method by which the bread he is craving is kneaded and baked."
And he responded, "The one who receives is not mindful, but the one who gives bears the burden of cautioning himself that it is with a view to brotherly love, and toward friendly aid, and not to self-esteem."
I was amazed at his wisdom, and again commenced to meditate upon his ancient appearance and strange garments. Then I returned mentally and said, "It appears that you are in need of help; will you accept a few coins from me?" And with a sad smile he answered me, saying, "Yes, I am in desperate need, but not of gold or silver."
Puzzled, I asked, "What is it that you require?"
"I am in need of shelter. I am in need of a place where I can rest my head and my thoughts."
"Please accept these two denars and go to the inn for lodging," I insisted.
Sorrowfully he answered, "I have tried every inn, and knocked at every door, but in vain. I have entered every food shop, but none cared to help me. I am hurt, not hungry; I am disappointed, not tired; I seek not a roof, but human shelter."
I said within myself, "What a strange person he is! Once he talks like a philosopher and again like a madman!" As I whispered these thoughts into the ears of my inner self, he stared at me, lowered his voice to a sad level, and said, "Yes, I am a madman, but even a madman will find himself a stranger without shelter and hungry without food, for the heart of man is empty."
I apologized to him, saying, "I regret my unwitting thought. Would you accept my hospitality and take shelter in my quarters?"
"I knocked at your door and all the doors one thousand times, and received no answer," he answered severely.
Now I was convinced that he was truly a madman, and I suggested, "Let us go now, and proceed to my home."
"Who are you?" I inquired, fearfully, slowly.
With a voice that sounded like the roar of the ocean, he thundered, bitterly, "I am the revolution who builds what the nations destroy.... I am the tempest who uproots the plants, grown by the ages.... I am the one who came to spread war on earth and not peace, for man is content only in misery!"
And, with tears coursing down his cheeks, he stood up high, and a mist of light grew about him, and he stretched forth his arms, and I saw the marks of the nails in the palms of his hands; I prostrated myself before him convulsively and cried out, saying, "Oh Jesus, the Nazarene!"
And He continued, in anguish, "The people are celebrating in My honour, pursuing the tradition woven by the ages around My name, but as to Myself, I am a stranger wandering from East to West upon this earth, and no one knows of Me. The foxes have their holes, and the birds of the skies their nests, but the Son of Man has no place to rest His head."
At that moment, I opened my eyes, lifted my head, and looked around, but found naught except a column of smoke before me, and I heard only the shivering voice of the silence of the night, coming from the depths of Eternity. I collected myself and looked again to the singing throngs in the distance, and a voice within me said, "The very strength that protects the heart from injury is the strength that prevents the heart from enlarging to its intended greatness within. The song of the voice is sweet, but the song of the heart is the pure voice of heaven."
So, I re-arranged my blog layout a bit - took me a while to get it worked out right, and I learned a bit more about CSS in doing it... anyway, the stuff in the left sidebar is now stuff related to this blog - my profile, past posts, and labels. The stuff on the right is stuff related to other places - my music, my photos, books I've read, my shared blog items from Google Reader, and links to other sites. If you have any feedback about the layout or have any suggestions of things you'd like to see on either side, let me know :)
well, since it is starting to really feel like spring around here in Portland, I thought I would take myself back to the glory of winter. And what better way to do it, than to dream about a place with REAL winter... so, here we go, back to Lithuania.
The day these next few pictures were taken, it was about -25 degrees celsius (which is about -13 degrees fahrenheit)
The trees were just encrusted with ice, and looked like silver
It was one of the clearest, brightest days I've ever seen, but stunningly cold
We were at a conference, and a group of us were going to take sleigh rides
It turned out the horse was pregnant - I felt so sorry for it. We mostly hid in the barn, because we couldn't stay outside for more than a few minutes at a time (and this was with shoes, wool socks, thermal underwear tops and bottoms, pants, t-shirt, sweater, long wool coat, glove liners, gloves, stocking cap)
Prior to leaving for the conference, we had noticed these icicles in our building courtyard
That long one in the middle is about three feet long, I'm guessing, and good 3-4 inches wide maybe... and that's small compared to some of the ones that hang down from the tops of buildings.
The combination of the constant snow for 3 months, and the overwhelmingly grey and bland soviet architecture everywhere makes for a very colorless winter...
with the exception of old and non-soviet architecture
Outside the city, there is nothing but white anywhere
In the city, they have dump-trucks to haul away snow they have shoveled off of streets and sidewalks, because it just doesn't melt, it keeps accumulating for 3 months. In some places, snow piles build up to 6 or 7 feet along the sides of paths when they don't take the snow away.
The cathedral gets some beautiful lights
A tree goes up in cathedral square
Pieces of ice float down the river
And everybody walks as quickly as possible to get wherever they are going. You have to learn to walk all over again, because the snow just compacts and compacts as people walk on it, and you end up with a thick layer of ice beneath the snow, which is extremely slippery.
Remember that park that I said was near our flat, back in this post? Here it is in the winter
Finally, here are some panoramas from the hill where the Verkiai estate is:
Given these views, you can imagine how, after seeing nothing but grey and white for 3 months, spring feels like you are being born all over again. The snow melts, and everything is brown and wet. And then suddenly... GREEN! And blooming flowers, and trees! It's almost like watching creation, and just marveling at each new thing that unfolds.
Every year, the white witch takes hold and is vanquished
See, they even have the lamp-post
Thanks again for coming along for the ride. See you soon!
today we are going to take a walk through part of Vingis Park, which is in the middle of Vilnius, quite near the center. We start our journey on Čiurlionio street (named after M.K. Čiurlionis, a famous Lithuanian composer/painter), just outside what used to be the dorm building of our friends Deimantė and Gintarė.
We keep walking down the street
and eventually we come to the park gates:
we're surrounded immediately by tall trees amidst open fields...
the sign says "let's stay a while with the trees..."
yes, let's do...
As we walk down the path, we come across some play equipment. Care for a turn on the swings (they call the teeter-totter swings as well)?
or the more traditional swing:
ok, let's keep going a little bit further, shall we? you can always come back to the swings later if you'd like.
if we keep going this way, we get to a petting zoo, a small amusement park, and a huge outdoor amphitheater. this park is really gigantic.
but, for now, I'm going to turn around and head back, as I never took pictures of the rest of it (shame on me).
there's the swings again, if you'd like to head back over there for a while.
thanks for coming with me on my walk. it's been really nice.
I had forgotten how Vilnius smelled in the late spring... it sure is beautiful.
If you'd like, you could also try to climb a tree before we leave. Be careful though. Or you could just give one a hug. They're great to hug, you can squeeze them as tight as you want and they don't mind.
well, off we go then, back to the city.
hope you've all enjoyed this late afternoon jaunt. come again next time, for more "look, it's Lithuania!"