Doors to Ancient Poetical Echoes:Journeys through the Door
A reference to the Odyssean image also appears in the late c. AD epic poet Nonnus:. Virgil borrowed the image of the two gates in lines — of Book 6 of his Aeneid , describing that of horn as the passageway for true shadows  and that of ivory as that through which the Manes in the underworld send false dreams up to the living. Two gates the silent house of Sleep adorn; Of polish'd ivory this, that of transparent horn: True visions thro' transparent horn arise; Thro' polish'd ivory pass deluding lies.
Of various things discoursing as he pass'd, Anchises hither bends his steps at last. Then, thro' the gate of iv'ry, he dismiss'd. His valiant offspring and divining guest. Why Virgil has Aeneas return through the ivory gate whence pass deluding lies  and not through that of horn is uncertain.
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One theory is that it refers to the time of night at which he returned. Another explanation is that Virgil is thus indicating that what he has recounted is not to be taken as literal fact. In John Wesley 's last sermon, preached on 17 January , he spoke of how uncertain even the best conjectures about the invisible world were without revelation: Where observe how warily he begins, with that apologetic preface, — Sit mihi fas audita loqui — 'May I be allowed to tell what I have heard'. And, in the conclusion, lest anyone should imagine he believed any of these accounts, he sends the relater of them out of hades by the ivory gate, through which, he had just informed us, that only dreams and shadows pass, — a very plain intimation, that all which has gone before, is to be looked upon as a dream!
Invitation to Poetry: Closing Doors
In his Silvae V iii —, a lament for his dead father, the poet Publius Papinius Statius , expresses the wish that his father may come to him from the abode of the dead in the form of a true dream, passing therefore through the gate of horn:. Thence mayst thou pass to where the better gate of horn o'ercomes the envious ivory, and in the semblance of a dream teach me what thou wert wont to teach.
The 15th century Latin poet Basinio of Parma, employed at the court of Sigismondo Malatesta in Rimini, wrote a panegyric epic poem for his prince Hesperis modelled largely on the Aeneid and the Homeric epics, in which Sigismondo, as epic hero, undertakes a journey to the underworld in order to meet his deceased father Pandolfo Malatesta. Before that he passes the temple of Fama which has a bipartite gate, one half made of horn, one of ivory. On the ivory half not only Sigismondo's descent but also the ones by Hercules, Theseus, Ulysses and Aeneas are depicted.
Disturbing nightmares are conveyed by false rumour on the vain gates of ivory, while true dreams of horn are sent by trustworthy rumours. The gate of horn shows the Spaniards defeated on the Tyrrhenian shore [i. It helped to hear from another that the struggle is ongoing, something that has to be learned and practiced over and over.
Every now and then I imagine what life would be like to focus on one thing…one project, one method, one idea…to live with just that. How would that be? It's not easy, and I'm still in the "considering it" stage. Thank you, Christine, for the image of the closed door.
Invitation to Poetry: Closing Doors
I imagine one hand closing a door that is behind me, and the other hand beginning to open a door that is in front of me. What is most appealing to me right now is to stay for a time in the dark hallway between those two doors. Simply stay and be…Blessings. Well, you said that you wanted to enter," he said. The door was locked then? The peculiar design of your hinges, the bright radiant color of your wood, the solid iron of your handle— these neither invite or deny; they cause me to wonder.
So I'll wait for one who will enter or one who will leave; someone to talk things over with. Then I might know what to make of you — divider of time. Threshold from here to where? Behind the red door are secrets I'll never tell memories good and bad locked away. There are treasures there broken hearts failed dreams shining moments and instants that pierce my heart with joy. Sometimes I open the red door and let the good stuff come out and play Sometimes the bad stuff sneaks out and wreaks havoc And sometimes I wonder what it would be like to open the door, and leave it open To air and share all the things that make me who I am and be me.
I see a red door and I want it painted black No colors anymore I want them to turn black I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes I have to turn my head until my darkness goes.
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Please don't knock I am away I've gone on vacation I need to play. My mind is resting My mouth sealed shut Kicked back and relaxing Firmly planted on my butt. I cannot be social Today is about me No phone calls, or chatting I've no place to be. So if you come calling The reds all you'll see I've gone on vacation With no one but me.
I knelt in prayer to ask the question which ought to be asked so sure of the answer this was a good thing, for me, for the Kingdom of God it wasn't too easy it wasn't certain death and so I raised up my question and my hopes so sure of the answer only to hear something else the rattle of a door not only closed but locked too a different answer which opened doors for other people and kept me where I needed to be for my own self care and I learned that the ways of God are not my ways.
And yet… having too many open doors, our own "surplus doors", is just as real a problem. Closing doors in a sense is a very real part of having a simpler and rooted life, of pruning to bloom, of… deepening peacefulness. Peace is after all one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit…. A closed door can simply become a wall after all…. The door to dreams Years ago, I tried to lock my dreams behind that door. I left the church When they painted the door red. I call myself Congregationalist And I love this church of peace and liberation That honors all people Fights for the rights Of the poor and gay and black And worships a Lord of Life.
But even still When the world seems harsh and frightening When I am anxious or aching or alone I sink inside myself And recognize there still lives The little Episcopalian. Dreaming of the Sea: An Online Retreat with St. Photography as Contemplative Practice Sacred Time: Me and him made this door and many more like. Only mark you open our handiwork now and again, lest the day come when no one can. And suddenly I thought of all the pastors who were walking up to the churches they serve and opening the church door.
And here I was, again, opening not a church door, but a fitness center door.
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Trying to open the door of healing, hope, wholeness, wishing I were walking through a door of ministry rather than health care. Is there a difference? In the last 2 years I have opened hundreds of new doors: There are other kinds of doors that have been opened as well: Is it OK to close the door? What will people think? Is it OK to end that friendship? I don't want to hurt her. Is it OK to put myself first?