This week we can identify with the Lord each step of the way from the Mount of Olives to Calvary. When it comes to the resurrection, the imagination boggles, yet it is the centre of our faith. Lord, teach me to love my face and body, my temple of the Holy Spirit. It will grow old and die with me, but that is not the end. My body is sacred, and Easter opens a window for it and me onto a mysterious but endless vista.
--Sacred Space

Today was an encouraging day, even though I'm entirely too tired (from having a cold). I like these kinds of days. I like simple conversation over coffee and biscotti, and prayer of two vastly different forms within the day (book of common prayer and extemporaneous, charismatic prayer). I like thoughtful discussions and disagreeing well. I like found cameras. I am blessed to be reminded that I somehow reflect the Lord's glory. I like conversations over lunch about graduate school and church background and other such things. I like whirlwind tours of the thought of Freud, Lacan, Cixous (with background on Descartes and Kant) and second half of class movie watching. I'm learning to appreciate, perhaps. Dr. Pearse's teasing brand of humor, and am fascinated by the Catholic Reformation. I'm also really enjoying what I've read so far of Letters to a Young Catholic, especially its discussions of G.K. Chesterton and Flannery O'Connor. And I have far too much to do, that I'm ceaselessly putting off, but I feel some kind of joy--for friendship (what an impossibly wonderful gift!), and the binding nature of the Church's (or Christian holy people's) identification and reception of the Holy Spirit, and how this binds us together in such deep, unsearchable richness and compassion. I like these graspings of the hope and joy of the Lord.