And feel thy sovereign vital Lamp; but thou
Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;
So thick a drop serene hath quenched their Orbs,
Or dim suffusion veiled.
. . . Thus with the Year
Seasons
return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of Even or Morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summers Rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds
me, from the cheerful ways
of men
Cut off, and for the Book of knowledge fair
Presented with a Universal blanc
Of Nature's works to me expunged
and rased,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
So
much the rather thou Celestial light
Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers
Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence
Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell
Of things invisible to mortal sight.
This is
Evil for John Milton, given the doctrinal system within which he
worked, did not have independent existence but was a demonic parody of good,
like getting frozen cow paddies instead of flowers. Thus he avoided the heresy
of Manicheeism. His darkness visible is a devilish cartoon of the substance of
things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, and in a narrower frame of
reference his blindness, his individual hell, had less power than the inward
light invoked.
Even a shopping mall can offer entrances for wisdom—as with
people-watching in PG, years ago, when I took my young son to a mall and
usually observed something new. Several times a pair of apparently learning-disabled
older men, both self-reliant, either brothers or longtime companions, came
there--by themselves, walking down the center of the mall, picking up a cup of
coffee or a snack at a fast-food place. They usually gave my child and me a
friendly smile and wave, at least the younger and more outgoing or assertive of
the two did, and I wd smile and wave or nod back. One time he called out to us that my son had a good mother. Made my day.
The mall was a destination of sorts, and relatively
family-friendly, so some local group homes also visited there. More than once I
saw a touching group of mentally retarded students being led by their helpers,
on a mall trip. Sitting in a McDonalds or equivalent one of those times, I got
more of a reflection than usual—seated with my child at one table, I could see
two young African-American guys, barely more than kids, having their McDs
lunch. From the visuals I got the impression that the two were having one of
their first meals out on their own—temporarily—eating together with no adult in
the immediate vicinity. They were obviously brothers, about ten and twelve or
perhaps eleven and thirteen, who had just been allowed to pay for their own
fast food. While we were all eating, a group of the mentally challenged young
people came in, escorted by two or three tired-looking grownups, thronging in
the general direction of lunch. None of them looked affluent, though they
looked adequately cared for. Some were clearly more disabled than others,
including one young fellow who constantly had to use a handkerchief to wipe his
mouth and chin because of uncontrollable drooling.
The two young fellows at the intermediate table, where I was
looking across, were both crying.
Slight as the anecdote is, it made an unforgettable
impression. Two obviously nice, well-brought-up middle-class black kids, brought
instantly to tears of pity by seeing members of a group home for the mentally
challenged--both of them sitting crying over their burgers and fries. It could
have been funny but was not.
This is the picture the corporate media outlets do not let
you see, when the phrase “young African-American males” is used.
Test this proposition: Have you ever seen this anecdote or
one like it, in the news media?
This is the kind of little story that Rush Limbaugh and the
rest of the GOP-supporting noise machine do not let us hear.
Malt may do more than Milton can, to justify etc, but Milton could still hit the nail on the head. As
Stumble It!