- Part One
- Playing around with the question, “How can I grow my ideas?” yesterday led me to the etymology of Eidos via Ideas (although Eidos is actually “form”) and from there to wanting to read the bit in the Bible, “in the beginning was the Word…” Hint: It’s not Genesis, at least not in that phrasing (same idea). A friend with better Sunday School attendance than me said, “NT” and then I knew enough to know it had to be John and indeed, John 1:1, In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.
- OK, but Word = Logos, I know that. Read on.
- John 1:3, All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. (King James says it the most elegantly.)
- Wow. I was shaking by the time I was finished reading and I can still recreate the feeling a few days later. Suspect strongly that at the root of “things made” is Eidos, form, sculpture. Creation. Asked the Baptist Preacher who took one year of NT Greek 20 years ago and couldn’t answer from his own information. Expect he will shop the problem because he would like to see me back in church and will encourage any Biblical interest I show. An excuse for a call, too.
- I am allowing this verse to explain the emotional hit I get when I see some forms of creation, most specifically the major window in Mt. Olive Baptist’s new church, which they didn’t need to buy but makes the church, at night, the major architectural feature in this little town. And I am encouraged in my own stumbling way towards art, if I allow that it really does come from God. Reading ArtNews inclines me to think not all artists would explain their calling the same way.
- Part Two
- Em Yates, my neighbor to the south, died today. She was 95+ and had been in bad health since I moved in. The neighborhood shifts. Expect the house will be sold; a friend suggests I buy it. Think not; it’s a money pit and a long way from code if I were to rent it out. I’m writing this entry after the funeral and viewing. I made an effort to be neighborly when I first moved in but pulled away the last two years, unable to handle her constant self-centered whining about her life. A life reviewed and closed in 20 minutes, 10 of which were about Jesus, and a pink-and-white coffin that was nicer than any of the furniture in her house. I hope to leave a different legacy, if nothing other than tangible work that shows I was here.
