There is no way in which a man can earn a star or deserve a sunset.
~G.K. Chesterton
Tag: G. K. Chesterton
Why Two?
Here dies another day
During which I have had eyes, ears, hands
And the great world round me;
And with tomorrow begins another.
Why am I allowed two?
~G.K. Chesterton
Even a Monday,
despite chills and cough,
there is work
that must be done;
I’ve been allowed
this day
to do my best
and maybe as this day dies
there will come
another.
Peaks and Valleys
Mt. Baker sunrise
One sees great things from the valley, only small things from the peak.
— G. K. Chesterton
It is all a matter of perspective and what we see from where we stand:
it takes great strength and determination to climb out of the valley.
Yet much of what gives life meaning and instills hope
is how we live when we find ourselves at a low point.
from top of Mt Baker at sunrise by Josh Scholten
An Oath of Loyalty to Life
It is…the refusal to take the oath of loyalty to life…
The man who kills a man kills a man.
The man who kills himself kills all men.
As far as he is concerned, he wipes out the world.
~ G.K. Chesterton
Suicide rates globally have climbed 60% in the past forty years,
particularly in developed countries.
Based on the distress of the patients I see every day,
the easy contemplation of suicide,
if only a passive “I wish I were dead”,
there will be no slowing of this trend.
…when there is no sense of loyalty to life, as stressful and messy as it can be,
…when there is no honoring of the holiness of the created being,
…when there is no resistance to the buffeting winds of life,
only a toppling over, taking out everything and everyone in the way,
…the world is wiped out, all people killed in one act of self-murder.
For Your Grazing Pleasure
The mere brute pleasure of reading–the sort of pleasure a cow has in grazing.
~G.K. Chesterton
Setting me loose in a room of books is like cows let out on green grass — so much to consume, so little time. I’ll nibble away, blade by blade, page by page, word by word, but the greatest pleasure of all is settling down into a good long cud chewing session, redigesting and mulling over what I’ve already taken in.
It is brute pleasure to take in words that grow roots so deep they never go away, words that sustain and make me grow and keep me alive.  Words illuminate from without and within.
Something to chew on.
Startle and Wonder
We should always endeavour to wonder at the permanent thing, not at the mere exception. We should be startled by the sun, and not by the eclipse. We should wonder less at the earthquake, and wonder more about the earth.
~ G.K. Chesterton
As a physician, I’m trained to notice the exceptions. Ordinarily I’m not particularly attentive to everything that is going well with the human body, instead concentrating on what is aberrant or could be made better. This is unfortunate; there is much beauty and perfect design to behold in every person I meet.
Instead I am looking past the every day miracles to find what’s wrong.
To counter this tendency to just find flaws, I’ve learned over the years to talk out loud as I do physical assessments: your eardrums look just as they should, your eyes react normally, your tonsils look fine, your thyroid feels smooth, your lymph nodes are tiny , your lungs are clear, your heart sounds are perfect, your belly exam is reassuring, your reflexes are symmetrical, your emotional response to a stress and your tears are completely appropriate. I want to acknowledge what is working well, as it should, as it was designed to be. I want a wonder of the human body and mind to extend to the person who inhabits it as well.
When the exception occurs, it is likely to startle and frighten the patient but I don’t want it to surprise me. We must tackle it with everything we’ve got.
What gives us the strength to deal with the exception is how much in every person is right and wondrous.
Just as it was meant to be.
Choosing Sides
The issue is now clear. It is between light and darkness and everyone must choose his side.
~G. K. Chesterton
…love has always sought to put back together that which hate has broken.
…our hands have always been able to heal as much as harm.
…since the dawn of humanity, each of us contains three people—
the angel, the demon, and the one who decides which we will obey.
~Billy Coffey
It should not require an act of evil for us to recognize the human capacity for love, caring and compassion. It should not take fearsome suffering and death of innocents to remind us all life is precious and worthy of our protection, when others would discard it.
We are created to choose sides. Our Creator chose to suffer to guarantee we are eternally worthy of His protection.
How then shall we choose?
The Subject is Cheese
The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.
G.K.Chesterton
Until now, that is…
It may be gouda for us to know
that cheddar is better
It would take a swiss kick to the asiago
to dubliner our efforts to string the praises of gorgonzola
It could be a muenster of a havarti
to provolone the colby truth
Edam, what a mozzarella we’ve made for ourselves
ever since we got caught leyden and didn’t know jack
But it is all up to quark-y feta;Â ask for parmesan
and it may gruyere on me
Ricotta go now~a farmer is waiting for me
Lenten Grace — One Far Fierce Hour
With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings…
The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.
Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.
G. K. Chesterton from “The Donkey”
Palm Sunday is a day of dissonance and dichotomy in the church year, very much like the donkey who figured as a central character that day. Sadly, a donkey gets no respect, then or now– for his plain and awkward looks, for his loud and inharmonious voice, for his apparent lack of strength — yet he was the chosen mode of transportation for a King riding to His death.
There was a motley parade to Jerusalem: cloaks and palms laid at the feet of the donkey bearing the Son of God, the disorderly shouts of adoration and blessings, the rebuke of the Pharisees to quiet the people, His response that “even the stones will cry out” knowing what is to come.
But the welcoming crowd waving palm branches, shouting sweet hosannas and laying down their cloaks did not understand the fierce transformation to come, did not know within days they would be a mob shouting words of derision and rejection and condemnation.
The donkey knew because he had been derided, rejected and condemned himself, yet still kept serving. Just as he was given voice and understanding centuries before to protect Balaam from going the wrong way, he could have opened his mouth to tell them, suffering beatings for his effort. Instead, just as he bore the unborn Jesus to Bethlehem and stood over Him sleeping in the manger, just as he bore a mother and child all the way to Egypt to hide from Herod, the donkey would keep his secret well.  Who, after all, would ever listen to a mere donkey?
We would do well to pay attention to this braying wisdom. The donkey knows.  He bears the burden we have shirked. He treads with heavy heart over the palms and cloaks we lay down as our meaningless symbols of honor.  He is servant to the Servant.
A day of dichotomy — of honor and glory laid underfoot only to be stepped on.  Of blessings and praise turning to curses. Of the beginning of the end becoming a new beginning for us all.
And so He wept, knowing all this. I suspect the donkey bearing Him wept as well, in his own simple, plain and honest way, and I’m quite sure he kept it as his special secret.
Seeds of the Heart
If seeds in the black earth can turn into such beautiful roses, what might not the heart of man become in its long journey toward the stars?
—G.K. Chesterton
We are mere seeds lying dormant, plain and simple, with nothing to distinguish us one from the other until the murmurs of spring begin, so soft, so subtle. The soil shakes loose frosty crust as the thawing warmth begins.  Sunlight makes life stir and swell, no longer frozen but animate and intimate.
We will soon wake from our quiescence to sprout, bloom and fruit. We will reach as far as our tethered roots will allow, beyond earthly bounds to touch the light and be touched.
There is renewed hope seeded in the heart of man, ready and waiting to unfurl, with a precious fragrance that lingers, long after the petal has dried, loosened, and fallen to freedom.
Barnstorming 