The voice received on the outside

I recently viewed some porn online. I wanted to know what's out there.

I'm wise enough to stay away from things that would definitely offend me or injure me emotionally, so I steered in the direction of what doesn't offend me, at least not in the abstract: consensual sex between grown ups.

It didn't take long to learn what I needed to know.

Reflecting on my, um, adventure, I wonder what makes scenes like the ones I saw so hard to forget? Well, that part seems biological; even kind of mechanical. (That word has come up several times during my reflections: mechanical.)

And what was it, exactly, that troubled me about what I saw? What was it that marred the rest of my day, made my sleep fitful, and gave me a sort of spiritual and emotional indigestion?

I found a rich answer in this adapted quote from The Confessions of St. Augustine:

I asked the earth, the sea and the deeps, heaven, the sun, the moon and the stars. My questioning of them was my contemplation, and their answer was their beauty. They do not change their voice, that is their beauty, if one person is there to see and another to see and to question. Beauty appears to all in the same way, but is silent to one and speaks to the other. They understand it who compare the voice received on the outside with the truth that lies within.

Yes! As I reflect on the "voice" of the porn that I looked at and compare it to the truth that lies within, there is a grating and ugly clash. They do not match. The voice received on the outside was not true, and it was not beautiful.

(Click the photo to get a better view of Star Cluster M34.)

What the angel could mean

Luke 1:29

Confused and disturbed, Mary tried to think what the angel could mean.

This evening I parked in the garage behind the YMCA, walked to the elevator, and pushed the call button. The doors opened and a tall woman stepped out. I only saw her for a few seconds as she passed, but in those few seconds.....

Unlike most others who step out of the elevator in the parking garage behind the YMCA, this woman was looking up, and right at me. Her face was lit with unselfconscious recognition, as if she had been hoping it would be me when those doors opened. She smiled right into my face, beautifully, kindly, as she quickly stepped past me and out into the garage. I moved inside the elevator, the doors closed, and the moment was over. But what I felt in those seconds of anonymous encounter was ... love. Recognition. A peaceful belonging.

Later, in the locker room, an elderly woman gave me a warm, kindly smile. It gave me a point of comparison: Okay, this is what a warm, kindly smile from a stranger feels like. It's a nice feeling, and it made my day a little better. But the smile I received from the stranger in the elevator was something else altogether.

I couldn't stop myself from wondering if I had passed an angel who had been on some errand in the Y.

She was headed for her car in the garage, her beatific task for today complete.