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Bezig met laden... A Christmas Dream & Other Christmas Storiesdoor Louisa May AlcottGeen Bezig met laden...
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But I was reading this book about Fra Angelico, the Renaissance monk painter, (about whom there is little to say, unless you believe in the scientification of all things, but that’s fine), and eventually you cannot escape dwelling on the Virgin & Child, you know, the Holy Mother….
I guess that that is what Louisa was concerned we were losing, and probably we have or still are, or whatever—thanks to a lot of people, He Who Must Not Be Named obviously not being guiltless, unless you’re a very stable neurotic, you know, in which case it’s nice, it’s fine, keep moving, nothing to see here—and certainly I have lost it, if I ever had it, as I am not really a relationship person but an almost clinical introvert, which is not something you can change…. And I do not suppose that I shall ever marry, or—arrogance of arrogance—Become A Better Parent Than My Parents Were, So There!—so, yeah. I do not say that I regret it, or shall regret it, the way I shall regret gradually and inevitably losing physical fitness with extreme age…. No regret, no, at least none compared with the regret I would feel for lining the pockets of my children’s therapists and rearing new and ever-more-alienated generations, no net regret. Inevitably all over the world fertility has declined and must, so I suppose we all lose something, but it’s not like my family is going extinct or that the world needs me to have more than it has given me: probably in the end, dear LT, I shall have a great deal more of posterity than I could ever ever say I deserve….
But I can only assume that something is lost in the trade, and that makes Louisa’s words intelligible to me now. On the other hand, we perhaps only Go Into The World to heal our childhood, and nothing I think can take that from us, though that of course is a gift. I’m sure that, as things are fine now, that Jesus is capable of loosening and tying whatever needs fixing at the appropriate time.