#﹣matrimonial dogma.

[fatalistickiss]

MATRIMONIAL DOGMA

seonghwa x married!reader

summary ; You are not a good woman. Born poor and bitter, you were picked up by a wealthy and good man for your brand of intellect and wit which wasn't confident or bright but was skeptical and negative. Of course, there's no happy ending for glum gwens like you. After ten years of your promising youth married, your husband does what many husbands do and grows even more distant than he already was. When things appear grim though, your senior high friend who's been a famous pop star this entire time appears at the most convenient place for blooming affairs.

wc ; 8.9k

tags ; cheating, canon compliant (eh) seonghwa, afab reader, not very good with tags uhhh!! doggy style in a shitty motel (ok its not shitty at all but the sentence looks funny let me be), unprotected sex (yk the standard drill always use a condom), breeding/creampies/i genuinely dont know the difference, cunnilingus, missionary, oral (both receiving and giving), reader is suffering from "success" (being married to a rich dude), conspiring to murder, reader has shitty eyesight and wears glasses, descriptions of blood and violence, lmk if i forgot any 👍

disclaimer : please do not do any of the following, if you're unsatisfied with your irl relationship then do the mature thing which is to break up/divorce. and also please dont murder people that is (unfortunately) illegal.

Where do you start? Oh right, so you're at this bar, alone. Your hair and appearance is all done but what's missing on your face is the beauty that they see clinging onto the arms of pigs with pens made of gold. Swishing the near empty glass of hennessy, you simultaneously readjust your glasses. If a man wanted to approach you right now, he would. If your husband wanted to fuck you and think of you as he does so tonight, he would.

Well, what do you care about your husband anyway? You already have a high position thats pays well at your office job and close connections with others in your part of society. So what if he ditches you for someone younger and better and then you get labeled by the media as someone who didn't know or appreciate what she had until she lost it? ... Now you know. That's the thing.

There's those unhealthy thoughts again, you look at your watch to see the time; 8:36 P.M. You aren't a kid anymore and you don't live with the concept of "curfew", but you do want to be the best wife possible so you can at least fall from grace and be brought back in some next few decades to be hailed a scorned woman who did no wrong. You laugh hoarsely at the thought, maybe there'd be some good to it after all. But you don't intend on facing that initial wave of shame just yet.

Enter Park Seonghwa, a man who you've made quite fair acquaintance with in senior highschool. News has it he's now a member of the famous boy group "ATEEZ". He's been on your radar for quite some time, but not because you're thinking of fucking another man before your husband can fuck another woman. That thought hasn't occurred to you yet. He's still in your contacts, but how you'll approach this guy is still a plan in the works.

But that won't be necessary tonight. The sound of shoes tapping around the cement floor of this bar has been completely tuned out of your ears, so you don't notice when someone sits down on the chair next to you.

"Long time no see, Y/N." you hear a familiar voice call out; slowly, you turn to your left and find the man himself before you. You are very reasonably shocked and flinch at the sight of him. How could you be so sure that this Seonghwa is the real deal? He's not wearing anything that could obscure his identity, is he not at all concerned about whatever insane spies news outlets have? Or could this just be a marketing scheme planned between both your company and his company that you for some reason weren't informed about in advance?

"Ah, hi..." you wave, with each time your palm swayed you grew increasingly aware of your face's cells. He chuckles in response, "You've changed quite a bit from the last time we saw each other." "People aren't still images, if that helps." you quip, taking a sip out of your near-empty glass. Seonghwa tosses a glance your way, to which you add on, "Just messing with you." Softly he smiles. "I heard you're married?" he suddenly admits, your movement halting for a brief second. "Indeed, I am. Do you know my husband?" "I've also heard of him, he's the CEO of a prominent property management company here, right?" You nod, making eye contact with him as you both spoke.

Looking back to your glass, you find that it is now completely empty. After you ask the bartender for a refill, Seonghwa watches you with intent. "It's a shame honestly," he sighs dreamily, "A woman like you, married to such a simple man." "What do you mean by that?" you immediately ask after nearly choking a little on your drink. "Ah, i'm not insulting you. It's just that..." his gaze strays a little as his knuckles lightly press against his lips, "You always seemed bored in your photos together. Surely, you must not be having much fun in your marriage if you don't even smile once being seen with him.." You don't interject, letting the idol dig at your husband for as long as he'd like. It's not like he's too wrong, after all. In fact, dare you say it's even amusing that a man who has such a kind and caring reputation to uphold would even be so bold as to talk shit about a wealthy man to that man's own wife.

Your mood brightened by this encounter you've subconsciously needed for so long, you take one long sip as you listen to Seonghwa point out all of your husband's weak points as a person; it's music to your ears, as they say. Shortly after, you join him in this bashing, even letting the star in on some of his most humiliating of secrets. This conversation is something that could only be heard by the both of you and the bartender, who you're already well acquainted with and can just pay to shut up should anybody ask what went down here.

In the middle of your incessant giggling and dragging, your phone dings. You quickly pause your conversation and check what it could be—a text message from the man himself. Unaware of Seonghwa's sudden switch in facial expression from gleeful to grim, you excuse yourself to read the text.

this guy again: what time will you be home tonight? mother says she's worried somebody might do something to you.

this guy again: oh, on top of that we will also be going out tomorrow to visit them.

You sigh, pinching your nose bridge as you try to think of a good response so you don't look like you're taking his family's kindness for granted. In fact, one of the few remaining good things about this man is that his side of the family actually likes you as an inlaw. Before you two got married you were very much from a poor background yes, but the same reason he married you back then is also the same reason his parents also liked you and still like you today. That's what you explain to Seonghwa after apologizing to him for the hold up. "I can tell they genuinely mean well, it's just that their son could find a nicer lady any day now and..." you pause. Why are you so worried about something like that in the first place? Other wives don't have to deal with harrowing fears of their husbands cheating. After all,

there are other ways he could leave you for dead, alone and nothing.

"You don't love him anymore, Mrs. L/N." Seonghwa claims, his hand on your back. This is undoubtedly true. It dawned on you how he could take everything from you should he not want you anymore. Your job, your money, and your name. Not once did you consider the love you could have had for him, because it was never there to begin with. How did you go all those years without that sort of revelation? You turn to Seonghwa, handsome in this lighting. Are you that sort of person now? His hand crawls up your spine and to the back of your head, urging you to come closer on your own volition. Well, it wouldn't hurt you at all. Giving in, you hold his face and kiss him. The moment your lips press together, he holds you for an embrace. You pull away for a moment to ask, "Do any of your group members know you're here?" "They don't have to. Let me be your secret."

That was good enough for you to go with him. Luckily, your face or style of dress isn't all too remarkable or distinguishable from any other woman having a fun night out. All you do is slap back on your mask and the two of you sneak to his car. Hopping into the front passenger seat, you voice out a thought, "This is going to sound really dumb, but it feels a little bit weird knowing that some idols have their own cars.." Naturally, whenever an idol or idol group travels, publicly they're shown accompanied by their members or staff. That sentiment was indeed not very smart, and while you weren't at all completely oblivious to the k-pop scene and how insane some fan statements and beliefs can get, there were some parts to it that stuck with you subconsciously. Which is why you were surprised at yourself for even thinking that it would be weird for a grown adult to have their own car. "I get you. Most of the time I do just use the company car or walk to go somewhere." he laughs.

Perhaps it's because you're an inexperienced cheater, but you feel something heavy coming down on you as he drives. You know that you're making a very huge mistake, one that will eventually not end up biting you in the ass so hard they'll make movies out of it. But at the same time, it feels exhilarating. After all, this isn't just any guy that you're going to two time with, it's a beautiful artist with tons of applause to his name. Maybe just this one night you'll go and tomorrow it'll be just the past between you two and nobody will ever find out.

The two of you end up at your destination which is a rather simple love hotel, not that you were complaining. It isn't mediocre but it isn't luxury like your husband would take you to during vacations. Humbling yourself however, you shrug it off; although you are a bit worried about the possibilities of someone working here accidentally ratting you out while talking to a coworker during lunch hours, Seonghwa puts a hand over your shoulder and gives you a reassuring smile as you both enter to check in.

The entire time that he was talking to the lady at the front desk, you felt slight tingles which you merely brush off as the cold air sweeping over your bare skin. It was a simple few minutes or less process that felt like an entire hour had swept by. You inhaled and exhaled a huge sigh of relief when you two finally got to the elevator. Now, you aren't going to turn back. Very much so are you open to the idea of night dancing with this fine man. Getting off the elevator and finally entering your room, he asks you if you want to take a bath first, as to which you politely decline and let him go before you. While you wait, you sit on the bed and check your phone for any updates. You didn't open your phone to look at the message so that means your husband didn't get the read notification; which you thank your earlier self for. This does mean though that he added more while you two made the trip.

9:12 P.M

this guy again: if you're too drunk to make the journey back home yourself, dont worry. i sent yujun to pick you up. he should be there any minute now, so stay where you are i will also notify your bartender friend not to let you go anywhere.

Your stomach drops to the ground floor. Yujun is your personal driver though, and to seem the least class traitor as you could be being a successful office woman married to a landlord, you have also made good friends with him; therefore, you calm down a little knowing you could stop him before it's too late. But you also stiffen up again knowing that you can't just tell this guy not to pick you up from the bar. You can trust that the bartender wouldn't tell a single soul what you just did, but your personal driver who also drives for your husband is also another story. Quickly, you open the app and go straight to Yujun's contact. You call him so as to not leave a single trace of evidence on your phone or his phone that you said anything about this; and luckily he picks up.

"Yes, ma'am?" "Yujun, i'm sure you got Daeho's order to pick me up from Babylon, but I met Heera there and she wanted to invite me to her and Yang's place for the night. My phone just so happened to die out before I could tell him about this which is why I didn't tell him first. Be a dear for me and relay the message, okay? I'll be home next morning, and tell Mrs. Lee that I love her and her homemade samgyeopsal. Thanks." you hang up immediately before he could say a word, but rest assured that Heera would most definitely have your back behind all this, even if she has no idea that you finally heeded her advice from seven years ago the first time you brought up your husband's distance.

Seonghwa hops out of the shower as soon as you finally relax. You look to the open bathroom door, the steam flying out of it like a legendary item had just been unboxed. As it clears, there he is, tightening the robe he's now wearing. He is very clearly handsome, and that is only exemplified by his utterly stellar appearance fresh from the heat of a warm shower. Locking eyes with you, he smiles and lets you know, "It's your turn. Sorry for the wait." With that, you nod and walk to the bathroom, being greeted by the nice warmth left by him.

Waiting for you, Seonghwa lays on the bed, resting his head on his hand. He didn't tell you why he was there or why he wanted to do this, but he's happy regardless that you agreed so easily. It does seem like his initial suspicions about your marriage were indeed true. Part of him does feel bad that a friend that he hasn't seen for so long was trapped in a marriage that isn't even worth the salt of being toxic or unhealthy, just absence from both sides for years. But the other part of him is also over the clouds at this opportunity. His phone at this time also receives a call from his group's leader. "Hello?" he says, picking it up knowing the question that's going to proceed next.

"Seonghwa, where are you? Our manager's been wondering when you're going to come back to the dorm." "I'm at an old friend's place. Tell him i'll be back by tomorrow." he hums. "Okay. Be safe." "Thanks, Hongjoong. See you then." The call ends, and he is still waiting for you.

Inside the bathroom, you're already finished but you try to think things over a bit as you look into the mirror. Taking off the shower cap, you let your hair finally free as you stare long and hard at the face that's supposed to be yours. Is this the face of an unfaithful wife? Your hand finds itself on your cheek, seemingly as a way to ensure that you are currently here. But then you remember, and that's all it takes for you to decide that this is what you truly want. Still, you don't question why Seonghwa would approach you so suddenly. When you come out, you find Seonghwa sitting there and his face lighting up as soon as you appear before him.

"Come here." he urges, gesturing with his finger. You obey, and crawl onto the bed and into his hold. Your face burns up a little being this close to him, you knew this man and you'd never thought something like this would happen between you two. He grins and plays a bit with your hair, "Pretty... Should I take you here now?" "Isn't that what's supposed to happen?" "It is." he answers before undoing his robe, revealing his bare body. He quickly bundles up the robe and tosses it to the side; pinning you down onto the mattress after you shyly stumbled to take yours off too. "You'll be seeing stars by the end of it all." Seonghwa giggles as he undresses you. Your nude form now out in the open before a man that you are not married to, your entire face begins to feel like it's been set on fire.

Slowly, Seonghwa lowers down to in between your legs, lightly pushing them apart so he'd have an easier time eating you out. The second you feel his tongue on your heat, your spine jolts up. Continuously, he licks at your cunt and then goes so far as to begin sucking on your clit. Such a sensation had you making light breathing noises before, now it has you moaning—something that you previously weren't even aware you could do without it being forced. He pulls your body in closer, his tongue now entering inside your pussy. A hand weak at the rush of ecstasy finds itself tugging on silk raven locks of hair as the other arm tries to support the rest of your body. The night had only just begun and yet you could already feel yourself rapidly approaching orgasm. Before that actually happens though, Seonghwa pulls away leaving you to look at him with a concerned expression—then he pulls you downward, face to face with his hard on. You don't need an explanation as to what he wants you to do now, do you?

With what strength he left you with from that first bout, you adjust yourself properly and take hold of his shaft with one hand and slowly take it into your mouth. It's overall thickness and length was fine, which is your shy way of saying that you could already feel your innards making way for this thing. Getting down to the base was a bit of a challenge, but luckily you're able to push through. Sucking on it, you bobbed your head up and down as you could hear the sound of Seonghwa getting off to what you were currently doing. When he ejaculates, you feel a rush of a familiar stringy white fluid shoot down into your throat and you swallow it. He continues to stroke it as you cupped your breasts with your mouth still wide open, your face and cleavage area being doused in his semen. This night is still far from over. Seeing as your glasses were soiled by the liquid, you nonchalantly place it on the nightstand and proceed.

Next, you get on all fours and spread one of your asscheeks; giving him another full view of your rear. Eagerly, he takes hold of your ass and slides the tip up and down your slit before sliding it in; which elicits a small gasp from you before he starts fully pounding into your hole, making you clench the sheets below you. Very quickly, a clear white fluid begins gushing out of your cunt. Glorified piss spills out with each time his hips snapped against your behind. With how fast he's doing you, you can't help but let yourself fully go; your mouth agape as saliva seeps out. This would be absolutely humiliating to remember, you think to yourself. But you can't stop, not when you're feeling this good. You only just notice that you two aren't using a condom when he pulls out, the sensation dipping only slightly as soon as you felt like you were going to cum.

"Turn over." he pants, sweat glistening down the side of his forehead. You oblige, lying down flat on the mattress. Seonghwa then pushes up the both of your legs and gets back to work down there. Being face to face with him as he does such things to you makes you feel even more tingly than before, resulting in you trying to look away—only for him to kiss you. His saliva permeates onto your tongue, pushing you even closer towards a full orgasm. You try to let him know, but you can't speak with his mouth on yours; your hands immediately flying to his back, your nails starting to dig into his flesh. It's there, you can feel it, the feeling of pure ecstasy that you haven't felt in so, so long. Seonghwa's lips are so, so soft. Your legs cross, pulling him in even closer. The steel clawing of your nails is now starting to draw blood, yet he doesn't stop.

When your lips finally separate from eachother, you can't even utter a single word; only mumbling incoherent sounds and pulling him even closer and tighter into your embrace. One of your hands makes its way to the back of his head and tugs on his hair strongly as you finally came. Your back arches as you're overwhelmed by the pleasure washing over your entire body and inside it. The sound that comes out of you is completely distinguishable from the woman you normally regard yourself as. Right now, you don't have time to worry about the fact that you look absolutely debauched.

In need of some rest before continuing, you let Seonghwa rest his head on your bare chest; your hand placed gently on his hair as he talks with you. "Y/N, are you on birth control?" "... No." you breathe, a slight bit of regret to your tone. This understandably thickens the air around you two a bit. But you already know exactly what you're going to do if you get pregnant and it rhymes with torsion. ".. My apologies, I got too careless there.." he says, but in all honesty you're just wondering why you didn't marry this man—even if neither of you even thought this would or could happen at all at first. The way you remember Seonghwa was a total sweetheart, hell you were one of the girls crushing on him at one very brief point; even so, you found much more satisfaction being just someone he sometimes hung out with then. To think that it would all come down to this, I guess you could say you felt a small tinge of glory inside. But you don't think you love him, he's as cute as you and everybody else from your highschool remembers him—but you're not sure if you could see yourself making him your number one.

"It's alright. I'll be able to handle it fine by myself." you whisper, playing around with some of the semen in between your fingers. He doesn't believe you, but you're married and he's not. Although a little sore and tired, you still recovered enough to sit up and excuse yourself to go wash the cum off your face. After all, you most certainly wouldn't want to experience the effect it would have on your hair should you let it dry.

With you out of his sight, Seonghwa sighs and sits properly against the pillows. The sting of your scratching then surges into him. Hissing from the initial onset of pain, he then notices the blood left by your nails.

As soon as you were about to open the bathroom door, Seonghwa beats you to it, and you see the bloody mess left by yourself. Under the realization of what you did earlier, you feel the clear need to apologize, to which he stops you from doing so kindly and just heads to the shower. Of course, the scratches may be minor, but you can't help but feel like you have to at least help him somewhat. You make the decision to step into the shower to his surprise and offer to help wash his back. He doesn't give you a response, but still gives you a small nod. Unbeknownst to you, his face is blushing, clearly flustered by this reasonable act of kindness from you. "This might sting a bit, sorry.." you say, about to start scrubbing the soap bar on his wounds. "I.. It's fine..." he mumbles, letting out a small wince after feeling the soap initially soak into his skin. It very quickly stops though as you quickly make sure you cover all the areas and immediately rinse it off, grabbing the shower head from behind him to make it faster. "I'm not sure if this hotel has a first aid kit, but i'll do what I can. After all the scratches don't look that deep..." you tell him, putting the shower head down. Seonghwa looks back and gives you a small smile, "Thanks." Subconsciously, you smile too.

Back on the bed, you lay on your side as Seonghwa looks out at the starry sky. "The sky looks gorgeous tonight. Do you wanna see?" "If I wanted to look at stars, I could simply look up pictures of a starry sky." you hum, browsing your twitter feed. "I personally think that stars look better when you see them in person." he says, still watching the sky. "I totally agree." you joke. Having caught up with the weird happenings all over the world packed into your phone today, you turn it off and prepare to go to sleep; although you aren't really feeling sleepy at all. Shortly, Seonghwa gets back into bed with you, running one hand down your side. "Are you going to sleep now?" he asks. "No." you answer, your hand that your head was resting on earlier stretching out after it was starting to feel numb. Suddenly and slowly, Seonghwa takes hold of one of your legs and raises it. "Still in the mood?" "Yes."

He puts it in, and you can feel it getting harder as he pushes it inside. His movements this time are slow but with just as much passion as before. You use your left hand to pull him in for a kiss, the room being filled with nothing but the sound of you making love to another man behind your husband's constantly turned back.

The night fades as it walks.

Next morning, you make it home safely without looking the least bit suspicious as you notified Heera first thing in the early morning at 6:43 A.M about your whereabouts, your alibi, and to not notify a single person—not even her husband—about what went on that night. You and Seonghwa parted ways, with you thanking him with a kiss on the cheek before going with your friend who was over the moon (in a quiet way so as to not alert anybody).

On the way home, your thoughts are filled with last night's memories. You trust that Yujun complied to your abrupt request that night, well, surely he must have, right? Too deep in thought, you fail to notice when you've already come back to your home. Before you exit the car, Heera grabs your wrist. When you look back, you see a woman so happy that she could start incoherently screaming—but instead, she gives you a tearful thumbs up and lets you go.

When you finally come inside, you find your husband sitting on the couch with a single paper on the table in front of him. You freeze at the sight—groaning obscenities inside your head as you think the worst. Slowly past the servants, you try to walk to the stairs to head to your room; but he catches you before you could do so.

"Y/N." he calls out. Immediately, you start thinking of sliding down to your knees and pleading for forgiveness. But when you answer to his call, he hands you the paper. "Are you okay? Don't tell me you drank again this morning." he cocks his brow seeing your grave expression, to which you quickly brush it off as the morning air being so cold that even your arms got cold under your sleeves. Being handed the paper, you see that it isn't really what you expected it to be. Then your husband explains what it is, "Yujun told me that Heera took you to her house last night, and that you wanted to tell my mom that you love the samgyeopsal she makes. So I told her that and in return at around 6:40 this morning she sent me this letter that's supposed to be for you."

Relieved, you nod along and read the contents of the letter. It was just a sweet message from your mother-in-law for the small note you added at the end of your favor to Yujun. You can't help but genuinely smile reading all the nice things she has to say to and about you. All of this.. makes your stomach sick. Now what you have done is starting to weigh in on you, but not for your husband—but for the people who believe that you are not such a person. "I see. I'm happy that Mrs. Lee was happy to hear what I had to say." "Of course she's happy, you are the first woman i've had in my life that she likes this much." Without further ado, you're allowed to go back up to your room to dress into some comfy home clothes.

You both share a bedroom, but due to the large expanse of your home you've made the room next to your bedroom your personal hangout. Setting down the plastic bag containing your underwear, you undress and toss both your clothing from last night along with last night's underwear into the basket. Lounging down on the chair next to the window naked, you can get a nice view of the pool from here. After a brief second of rest, you stand back up and look into the second closet that you own in search of something to wear. While you're putting on your leggings though, you are still brought to think about last night. You have to get ready again in about a few hours. For now, you ponder what you should do now. You could forget, surely Seonghwa would move on from this fairly easily as well. Mindlessly, you spin around in your chair until the maids tell you that breakfast is ready. You wonder why they still made breakfast for you when you just came home from a friend's house, but you shrug it off—it is actually your first real meal of the day.

The morning Seonghwa comes back to the dorm, the members are all minding their own business. Wooyoung is the first to greet him.

"Ah! Welcome back, Seonghwa!" he beams, hugging him tight. Seonghwa pats Wooyoung's back and greets the other members good morning. They suspect nothing, after all he did say he was just at an old friend's place. It's still quite early in the morning, and their schedule for the day doesn't start until later so he still has time to switch into something comfortable.

Much later in the day, you have now prepared to go outside with your husband to your parents-in-law's home. During the drive there, your husband as usual is looking absentmindedly outside the window while you.. sit there. With what you've done you have now relegated yourself to the acceptance of the fact that you no longer have any right to try and pursue his participation in this relationship. A small hopeful part of you still wishes that for some odd reason he starts paying more affectionate attention to you out of seemingly nowhere now, but you know that's not going to happen; and you're right. Maybe you should really just divorce him, it's not like you had too many good memories with him. After all, you have Seonghwa now. But you are very well acquainted with the saying "you lose them how you get them", and the degree of his devotion to you is still very uncertain. Although, you could do some things to ensure that he won't ever leave your side...

Having finally arrived outside their front gate; when your husband rings the doorbell, the gates suddenly maneuver open and your mother in law suddenly appears and holds you in for a deep embrace. "Y/N! My sweet dear Y/N! It's been so long since you and Daeho last visited! Did you get my letter? Ah, you really are such a sweet girl!" she continues showering you with compliments as you and Daeho both walk into his parents' just as lavish living space. His father politely greets you and naturally you greet him back, showing off your perfected 90° bow. "You know, I was actually just thinking of making samgyeopsal for our meetup today last night and then Daeho called me telling me what you wanted to say! Everyday, I can't help but feel so proud that my son had found such a stunning and perfect wife!" "Ahaha, i'm so glad you think that way, Mrs. Lee! I really do mean it when I say I love your cooking, but i'm not so sure if I can agree with me being a perfect wife.." you say, a hundred percent of those words actually being true. "How many times must I tell you? You can call me mom! And oh, don't be so shy my dear.. Any man in the world would be so lucky to have a woman like you as his wife!" she giggles gleefully. His dad then chimes in, "Indeed. Your mother-in-law and I are eternally happy that you came into our son's life. Your pure heart and your demure soul is one in a million."

You can't help but feel somewhat embarrassed, his parents seem to be more in love with you than he is with you. "Oh, you're both too kind. In fact, i'm already happy just knowing that i'm married to such a wonderful man and blessed with in-laws like you.." Before they could both continue with their incessant praise, Daeho puts a stop to it. "Yes, my wife is amazing. But we won't get anywhere with this meeting if we keep going back and forth." In any other context this would be seen as an asshole move but in all honesty you are just insanely glad somebody put an end to it.

Without further ado, the food is brought to the dining table and it's several larger-than-normally-provided-for-just-a-simple-lunch-with-in-laws courses for only four people. Of course, you immediately aim for the samgyeopsal which is further to your husband's left while you're on his further right. You quietly get his attention and ask for the serving plate, to which he obliges. The problem with you two isn't that you argue, but you simply don't talk enough to even have the energy or spite to. He tolerates you, and you tolerate him. Your phone is on the table, face up, and off. While you're thoroughly enjoying the food as your husband talks with his parents about recent events in life, your phone suddenly lights up with a notification. Normally, the reason why you have your phone out is in the case of an emergency. Checking the notification and who it's from however, you instantly put it face down on your lap. "And what about you, Y/N?" "Huh—" "Anything interesting happening at your workplace?" your father in law asks. "Hmmm, not really, haha. Just functioning as it always does."

The rest of the afternoon goes fairly well, but the entire time you felt all sorts of negative emotions ranging from immense guilt and nervousness all on your lap.

Walking to the car, Daeho suddenly questions, "Where are your glasses, by the way?"

Fuck.

Your hands fly all over your face, and then you realize that you forgot your damn glasses at that hotel. It's just a wonder how you didn't end up accidentally tripping over something for the entire several hours that you weren't wearing it. "... Oh shit." you mutter. "I-i'll call Heera, maybe she has it." "Okay, but do it at home."

The drive home consisted of your husband being completely oblivious to the abomination that your mental state is right now, and you staring dead outside the window with a powerful sense of dread lurching in your abdomen. To escape this somewhat, you finally decide to check your phone and read what Seonghwa sent you.

Seonghwa: hey, you left your glasses at the hotel so I kept them. do you want to come get them?

Pinching your nose bridge, you sigh and reply. However, before you hit send, you suddenly change your mind and backspace rapidly.

You: I have something different in mind. But first, no. If possible, please come to my house with the glasses at 10:15 or later. My husband goes to sleep at around 9:45. I'll make sure that im the one to answer the door.

Seonghwa: alright. I dont have much time to talk with you more so i'll see you then 💕

Cute. He sent you a heart emoji.

When you finally come home, your first instinct is to rush up to your personal hideout, change clothes, and wait. You expected to go home at 1:00 P.M but all that chit chat postponed that to six in the evening. Considering how you only got four hours of sleep and chose to power through the day making the fact that you did not have your glasses all the more egregious, you decide that now would be the time to take a nice nap to use up your freetime for today.

At around 10:00 sharp, Seonghwa prepares to go outside, your glasses safe in a spare empty box he found lying around.

"You're going out again?" Yeosang sleepily asks, catching his hyung in the act of leaving. "Yeah. The same friend I was with last night forgot their glasses so i'm just giving it back to them." "Oh ok..." With that Seonghwa leaves. After dragging his feet back to his own room, Yeosang goes, "Wait. How could his friend forget their own glasses at their own home..?" Again like last night, Seonghwa opts to drive his own car which is parked right beside the company one. Whenever pictures are taken outside the building, fans always assume that car belongs to another employee.

You wake up at 10:21, much later than you assumed you'd wake up but in time to know that Seonghwa's here now. Creeping downstairs barefoot, you tiptoe all the way to the door, hastily opening it as fast as you can. There he is, he gives you the box containing your glasses—which is all that you needed from him. However, on an impulse, you look around cautiously before inviting him in. Since you and your husband aren't on vacation to somewhere else and as soon as you came home, the servants have turned off the surveillance cameras. This you know since one of the maids woke you up in the middle of your nap to inform you. Convenient how everything just falls into place. "Do you want a drink?" "Just water will do." Seonghwa answers, taking off his hood and mask. You nod and then go to fetch him a cup.

Sitting down right next to him in jogging pants and a tank top that barely covers your bra, you drink the cup of water that you also got for yourself. He in turn has also discarded his hoodie, and drinks the cup that you got for him. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" "It was last night." "No, I mean since we last saw each other before that." you say, setting the cup down on the table. "Yeah." his eyes clearly on your bust area. Well, it's not like you two could talk a whole lot about the time you've spent together in high school. You had a crush him for four weeks which was initially why you were hanging out with him in the first place. Even then, you didn't talk all that much in class or just in general. You mostly saw eachother at lunch or at dismissal. You just both knew that the other existed.

It's not like you invited him in for sentimental chat anyway. You look at him while he looks at you. "Do you want me to waste your time, baby?" "Please. He already does that to me daily."

With that same fond smile, he unzips his pants and pulls out his dick. It's already hard, and you don't know how long it's been that way. Nevertheless, you get on the floor and between his legs. You lick your lips before taking him in. Slowly, your head moves up and down. In no time, his cock is already practically drenched in your spit. Gradually, your pace quickens, making him toss his head back and letting out a quiet gasp. When he finally cums, you swallow down every single drop of it—licking up any residue from your lips.

Standing and turning around, you pull down your jogging pants along with your panties, revealing how wet you've gotten just from sucking him off. His hands go onto your hips to guide you as you sit down on his still erect cock. You are playing a way riskier and more dangerous gambit than last night. Seonghwa bites his lip to suppress any sounds, just tightly holding onto your hips as you bounced on his lap. It's peculiar, how you went from being absolutely guilt ridden for the entire day to doing it again tonight without any hesitation. Together, you both reach climax—your love fluids gushing out from underneath you and spilling all over his dick, the strength of your orgasm causing you to clench your knees together.

Considering how you both didn't want to up the risk any further, you go to the bathroom without your pants to clean yourself up.

Returning to the living room, you wonder if you should let Seonghwa go for the night, so you ask him if he wants to stay. "But your husband's here?" he looks at you with confusion. "I have an extra room where he doesn't go to that you can hide in for the night. But if you want to go back to your dorm that's fine as well." You make it clear that you both have choices here, and that you won't make any fuss should he decide to leave. But to your surprise, he chooses to stay. After putting back on your pants, you quietly lead him upstairs to where your personal space is. "I took a nap here while waiting for you. You can sleep on the bed over there." you point to the spare bed right behind the chair you sat on this morning.

That's where he ends up sleeping for the night while you watch. In time though, you also end up falling asleep again. Once you wake up, it's already nine in the morning. Apparently as he usually does, your husband had left for other important matters without telling you. Before, this would put you off immensely, often feeding into your fears about him having found someone on the side. But you're just relieved that he never checks in on you first. In this situation now that would be hazardous. You find that Seonghwa is also awake, as he's currently sitting in front of you. "Mh, wait here. I'll talk with the maids." Downstairs, you can smell the aroma of freshly made pancakes. Perfect, you could just ask for two on your plate. After briefly greeting the maids good morning and receiving the two pancakes on your plate in question, you head back upstairs.

As you both eat breakfast, you catch Seonghwa glancing over from time to time to outside your window and at the pool. "Is something wrong?" "Ah, no.. I was just looking at the pool you have outside there, it looks nice." he says, finishing up his plate. You end up letting him use the second bathroom downstairs which was where you went to wash yourself up the night before. Meanwhile, after doing your business in the bathroom on this floor, you put on some more presentable clothes—namely, your usual office attire. You have work only in the later morning during the near end of the month, so you still have some time before you have to go. Meeting Seonghwa downstairs in the living room, you find him looking outside at the pool again. "Do you want to go swim?" you raise your brow.

He did. As you stand on the side with your folder over your head to shield your eyes from the morning sun despite spring only having begun, Seonghwa's having the time of his life fooling around in the water. The sun does calm down though and you put your folder down to look at your watch. Still a bunch of time left before you have to part ways again. Instead of sitting down on one of the chairs, you choose to continue standing, observing as your shirtless new boytoy has fun in your pool. In the middle of watching him however, you wonder if he told any of his group mates that he was going to be gone for this long.

Eventually, time comes and you have to bid your temporary farewells. "Seonghwa." "Hm?" "I have work today, therefore i'll have to go and so will you. Thank you for last night and the other night." you smile. "Let me drive you there." he says, splashing the water around him as he jumps to your feet. "Huh? Oh, that won't be necessary. Yujun should be here any minute now—" "I want to spend more time with you." You stare at him blankly, genuinely surprised to hear the words that came out of his mouth. Needless to say, you agree and call Yujun to tell him that a friend would be driving you to work today instead.

While he drives, you ponder giving him the directions to the quickest shortcut you know from your home to your office. But he did say that he wanted to spend more time with you. Despite that, you both barely say anything during the drive there. While you were looking through the window, Seonghwa would look at you with a certain gaze.

When you finally get there, you get out of the car and take a single step forward before looking back at him. Before you leave, you crawl back inside for a brief moment to kiss him again. With that, you both go back to your own lives.

You happen to be right on time, getting off the elevator at the exact time that you're supposed to be here. As you walk to your personal office, you greet everyone as you usually do. Like any normal day, you hear small chatter amongst your coworkers, but you never pay any mind to it since it's their business. Sometimes you eavesdrop just a tiny bit to hear what the goods are. As you put your hand on the door however, a woman approaches you.

"Hello! You must be Mrs. L/N, right?" People randomly approaching you isn't anything new, especially if it's a new employee. "Yes. That's me, may I help you with anything?" you answer, facing her completely. "Oh, Mr. Nam hasn't introduced me to you yet! I'm Song Mira!" she grins, extending her hand out to you. Mr. Nam. Nam Daeho. Your husband? You slowly nod and shake her hand. Surely there's other men with the surname Nam in your department who have some sort of obligation to introduce people to you. "I see. What brings you here? The day has just started." "Oh, actually, your husband and I have been great friends for quite some time now—" What? You know all of your husband's friends whether they be close or mere acquaintances. But, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt; surely, they must not talk too often if he hasn't thought of introducing her to you first. "Are you okay, miss? You look—" "I.. I'm fine. Apologies, continue." "As I was saying, Mr. Nam wanted me to tell you that he'll be away for a trip for the next entire month." As suspicious as this would be had your relationship been any healthier than it isn't, you know that your husband couldn't care less to let you be the one to know first, that's just how it goes for you two. He'll let a random stranger on the street know where he's going and when he'll be back before he tells you upfront, instead he sends people or texts to relay the message. Therefore, you brush it off and thank Mira for informing you.

The bright young lady skips off and you enter your office. You may have seemed cool about it, but inside you were still fretting about the relationship between that woman and Daeho. All sorts of thoughts, fears, and scenarios play out in your head as you try to keep it together. Your fingers curl at the thought that Daeho did already beat you to the punch of infidelity. You may be no better, but at least you didn't do it out of nothing but pure lust. As you type away on your desktop, you can feel your teeth pinching the flesh of your thumb and your sight becoming blurrier despite you finally having your glasses. The pain of your teeth puncturing your thumb is completely discarded as you press hard on one key, ruining the thing you were working on as the letter 'y' fills your screen in rapid fire speed. Rather than making a fool out of yourself by bringing the issue to your husband and accidentally misunderstanding the situation, your mind immediately flies to how to solve this. Collecting yourself again, your inhale deeply and breathe. You select all the extra y's you accidentally spammed, delete them, and continue working.

Do you file for divorce? Do you ignore it altogether? Do you use Seonghwa as a spy? No, no, and no... Those all have ways that they could end up going horribly. Like a faint red light slowly dying the landscape of your mind, something suggests itself to you. It's immoral, perhaps even more immoral than infidelity. Murder. There'll be no one to embarrass or take anything away from you if they're dead. Out of the picture. But of course, you can't just stab or shoot him and get rid of the corpse. You have to make sure that absolutely nobody tries to take revenge or matters into their own hands—whether it be that girl or the authorities. You are not willing to let your coveted lifestyle fall into the hands of another. The cards all fell into place for you to have your affair, so surely, it'll all fall into place for you to murder your husband. Unlike other murderers, you will walk out of this the same person—unscathed. Finally having calmed down, you continue working.

Seonghwa on the other hand comes home to his concerned group members. Remembering his faulty excuse last night, he stands in front of the table. "Seonghwa. What were you actually doing those past two nights?" Hongjoong asks. "I was with a friend." he answers, feigning innocence. "But you most definitely were not at their place." "Technically I was." he hums, fixing his hair. This is out of character for him, they know. He's a softball, a cute and kind person in front of the fans. He also has his dorky parts, but he's not what he's presenting to the other members of ATEEZ.

"You know our company doesn't have strict rules on dating, why would you keep this a secret from us?" Yunho questions, although what happens is his privacy, the way he went on about it seemed like he was hiding something crucial. "She's married." That sentence alone renders all of them speechless. "Y-you're joking, right? You're not actually having an affair with a married lady, are you?" Wooyoung stutters in disbelief. To add fuel to the fire, Seonghwa adds on, "It's the wife of a man who owns a property management company." "Seonghwa, you can't be serious! You'll be getting into serious trouble not just with that man for getting involved with his wife!" Hongjoong argues, but ultimately, the look on Seonghwa's face tells that there is no convincing him out of it. With a heavy sigh, the leader buries his face in his hand. "I guess you better be prepared to make sure that absolutely nobody else finds out about this if you don't want to give her up." The others exchange glances before turning to their eldest, who knows very well what he's getting into. Whether or not they'll help cover for him is still something they'll have to debate amongst themselves.

Your work day ends at 6:30 P.M, as the sun starts to go down and the sky is a cold shade of light blue, you tell Yujun over the phone that you'll walk home today. As you walk down the shortcut with a dull expression on your face, knowing what you will now be conspiring and how you'll plan it, a familiar car stops by. The window rolls down, and for the first time today, you smile. Seonghwa drives you home. Once you get there, you sit on the couch and let him linger for a bit. Before he greets you another goodbye and walks for the door however, you ask him to stay. "I have good news for you, star." you tell him, and he turns around to hear what it is. "My husband's not going to be here for the whole month."

His lips curl up, and he lets out a small breathy laugh. This just got even better.

MATRIMONIAL DOGMA ⋄ 1

prologue of promiscuity

end.

next.

 fatalistickiss

AUTHOR'S SECTION ; Hello! nir eahc chae rin here and I just wanted to say if you're reading this then thank you for checking out this fic. I have other things to do and originally this was an au for my ocs but then I decided to tweak it a little and make it a fic for one of those said ocs' face claim. Of course, there's more to it than just a simple face claim, I for one have been a huge shinestar since 2020 and although I sorta dipped from the fandom, I still have a lot of love for these boys. This was so fun to write because well the au's been brewing in my head for how long now considering how many fics I see focusing on the woman that the man is cheating with rather than a woman doing the cheating and although infidelity is something that I am very obviously against, I had to feed myself some of that taboo stuff as well,, Anyhow, ty for reading and if you're going to repost then please credit me @fatalistickiss!

[imparareilnuovodinuovo]

Glosario #9: Roma: la ciudad de la eterna rivalidad

- 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐨:  El anglicanismo es una doctrina religiosa cristiana derivada del catolicismo, que se inició en Inglaterra durante el siglo XVI. Su fundador fue el rey Enrique VIII (1509-47), quien, en el contexto de la Reforma protestante, separó a Inglaterra de la autoridad de la Iglesia romana, por motivos políticos y personales.

A pesar de sus diferencias con el catolicismo, tiene más similitudes con la Iglesia romana que otras vertientes protestantes, como el luteranismo y el calvinismo.

Fuente: https://enciclopediadehistoria.com/anglicanismo/

- 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚:  s. f. ARQUITECTURA Serie de columnas colocadas entre los barandales el proyectil rompió la balaustrada de la fachada.

Fuente: https://es.thefreedictionary.com/balaustrada

- 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐨: Es un término que nace en la época medieval, indica una estructura ricamente decorada que protege al público o a objetos de gran valor. La palabra italiana “Baldacco”, se refería a Baghdad, como prestigioso centro de producción de preciosas telas.

Durante siglos, en las celebraciones litúrgicas cristianas, se protegía el altar con una bella estructura: el ciborio. Formado por cuatro columnas y un revestimiento. Gian Lorenzo Bernini, el maestro del Barroco romano, fundió los dos elementos creando una especia de innovador híbrido para cubrir el altar de San Pedro.

Fuente: https://www.voxmundi.eu/el-baldaquino-de-san-pedro/?lang=es

- 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐨:  1. Civ. Estado del hombre o mujer que vive sin casarse.

2. Can. Elección voluntaria y libre de no adquirir un vínculo matrimonial y de vivir la continencia sexual por un motivo religioso.

Fuente: https://dpej.rae.es/lema/celibato

- 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐨: Reunión que se lleva a cabo con el objetivo del tratamiento de algún asunto de interés. También se llama concilio a los documentos que surgen de dicho encuentro.

Fuente: https://definicion.de/concilio/

- 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨:   Los filibusteros eran los piratas que actuaban por su cuenta. En el siglo XVIII, se definía con este vocablo a los aventureros que sin patente ni comisión de Gobierno alguno invadían territorios ajenos a mano armada. Posteriormente, este término se empleó, a finales del XIX, para designar a aquellos que trabajaban por la independencia de las colonias españolas de ultramar y, más concretamente, por la independencia de Cuba.

Fuente: https://www.muyinteresante.es/cultura/arte-cultura/articulo/iquienes-eran-los-filibusteros

- 𝐇𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐚:  Doctrina u opinión que no está de acuerdo con la sustentada por la mayor parte de un grupo (que constituiría el dogma, ‘statu quo’ o posición ortodoxa) y, en especial, la que aparece ante la gran mayoría como disidente, herética, extraña o insólita, o incluso apartada de lo aceptable y reprobada.

Fuente: https://es.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heterodoxia

- 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Es el antiguo nombre otorgado a los protestantes franceses de doctrina calvinista durante las guerras de religión. A partir del siglo XVII, los hugonotes serían denominados frecuentemente Religionnaires, ya que los decretos reales (y otros documentos oficiales) llamaban al protestantismo en forma desdeñosa como una «pretendida religión reformada».

Fuente: https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugonotes

- 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢ó𝐧:  Transverberación es una experiencia mística que, en el contexto de la religiosidad católica, ha sido descrito con un fenónemo en el cual la persona que logra una unión íntima con Dios siente traspasado el corazón por un fuego sobrenatural. El ejemplo más conocido es de Santa Teresa de Jesús.

Fuente: https://educalingo.com/es/dic-es/transverberacion

[dogmascutie]

WEDDING?! 💀

LSKFLSLA this energy is incredible i feel like i’m sharing local gossip

in the latest dogma’s babygirl installment, quiet, babygirl, quiet there’s an ummm matrimonial scene, one could say. if you already read it and missed that part, i’d suggest checking the mando’a translations for the scene just before dogma and babygirl enter fox’s office 😌 might be something interesting there 😏😏😏

[antilagardelle]

On Separation Of Church And State

(My latest work. I haven’t written in a while)

It would be convenient to believe that a pons asinorum were not immovably fixed at the heart of the subject. Indeed a sufficient lot of time and intellectual exertion would be spared, if only the subject could be reduced to the simple solution of relativity. One must not kid himself, however, in imagining that the philosophic truths which govern The Separation of Church and State, much less the entirety of political discourse, are not riddled with perplexities. The intellectual who eschews to embrace the cross of high-resolution thinking is scarcely an intellectual at all.

Dogma* rests at the heart of religion.* And one is justified in observing that it carries two principle connotations: the epistemological, and the moralistic. Examples of the former are as follows: the earth is round. The speed of light is 186,000 miles per second. The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. Examples of the latter are as follows: One must attend church every sunday. Eating animals is wrong. Sexual activity is intended for the confines of matrimony. What unites these two interpretations of dogma is their authoritative nature. A dogma is a thing which is held to be true. It is here that the fruit of the subject turns sour with the worm of acrimony: the absolute rejection of epistemological dogmas, is in itself an epistemological dogma, and any suggestion that moralistic dogmas are bad, is itself a moralistic dogma. The conclusion? That dogma is inescapable so long as one holds opinions on anything, and, dogma constituting the essence of religion, we further this assertion into arguing that religion is likewise inescapable. In the realm of opinion, all is religious.

What follows from this truth, much to the chagrin of Rowe V. Wade advocates, is an indispensable effect had upon juridical adjudication by religious belief. Those who labour under the all-too-commonplace slogan which would condemn the practice of sanctioning, or opposing laws based solely on “religious reasons,” condemn the whole of law in itself. A book of worship, a building of worship, a series of prayers, vespers, recurring sacraments or rituals never were requisites of religion. It is dogma, and dogma alone which suffices in their stead.     

The foregoing is not likely to be received without such arguments being made in return as, “The state has no business dictating whether a woman can or cannot elect to have an abortion, on the grounds of their inability to understand the full gravity of her plight,” and further, that, “these grounds are sufficient in the absence of religion upon which to base the exercise of adjudication.” Some will argue that “Utilitarianism is an adequate foundation upon which to establish our laws, and not some set of religious doctrines.” What these critics fail to perceive, however, taking into account the vital importance which the asterisks below play in my following assertion, is that neither of these arguments have successfully divorced moral dogma and legislation; but rather, they designate empathy, in the first case, and Utilitarianism, in the second, to the arbitration of moral dogma, and continue to suggest that each serves an acceptable basis for the application of law. For if morality is precisely that mode in which one ought to conduct his behavior; and if it is contended that the state ought to stay out of a woman’s decision to have an abortion, then one may conclude that morality is not eliminated from their version of jurisprudence, but instead, that morality is their religion, and that it influences their juridical philosophy in the same manner as Christianity might influence the judgement of a Christian Jurist. Man has his choice of organized religion, or disorganized religion.    

Having thus shed light on what The Separation Of Church And State does not imply, it is now imperative to explain what it does imply. The Separation Of Church And State is an institutional phenomenon. Violations of this separation include monks, priests, or nuns holding public office, The State lending, or dispensing any sum of money to a church, or Churches being mandated to pay taxes. The dominant philosophy of our age has misconstrued this version of Separation Of Church And State with separation of belief and state; which, as I have already shown, is impossible.   

*Miriam Webster defines Dogma as “Something held to as an established opinion. Especially: a definite authoritative tenet.”

*Miriam Webster defines religion as “a cause, principle, or system held to with ardor and faith.” This--in tandem with the fact that the very essence of faith is measured in the fact that an absolute deference to skepticism is self-negating, and therefore, there is a nebulosity to all conclusions, and that it is this nebulosity for which the notion of “faith” is accounted--and in tandem with the entirety of the paragraph in which I have placed the asterisk--justifies my application of religion to all opinion.

[cruger2984]

D4DJ (Dig Delight Direct Drive DJ) and its Saints - RONDO

Unleash the Nirvana and the Horizontal Oath. Here are the ladies of RONDO!

January 7 - Tsubaki Aoyagi

St. Raymond of Penyafort: Spanish Dominican friar who compiled the Decretals of Gregory IX, a body of medieval legislation that remained part of church law until the Code of Canon Law was promulgated in 1917. The following year he revised and reissued his 'Summa de casibus', with an added part on the law of matrimony. Canonized by Pope Clement VIII in 1601, he is the patron saint of canon lawyers and his major shrine can be found in Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain.

August 15 - Nagisa Tsukimiyama

Assumption of Mary into Heaven (Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary): According to the beliefs of the Catholic Church, Eastern Orthodox Churches, Oriental Orthodoxy, Church of the East, and some Anglo-Catholic Churches, among others, the bodily taking up of Mary, the mother of Jesus, into Heaven at the end of her earthly life. The Assumption is a major feast day, commonly celebrated on this date. The feast is also marked as a Holy Day of Obligation in the Catholic Church in many countries. The Catholic Church teaches as dogma that the Virgin Mary 'having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory'. On November 1, 1950, this doctrine was dogmatically defined by Pope Pius XII, in the apostolic constitution Munificentissimus Deus by exercising papal infallibility. The New Testament contains no explicit narrative about the death or dormition, nor of the Assumption of Mary, but several scriptural passages have been theologically interpreted to describe the ultimate fate in this and the afterworld of the Mother of Jesus. This feast is also part of the Holy Rosary as the Fourth Glorious Mystery.

March 23 - Hiiro Yano

St. Turibius of Mogrovejo: 16th century Spanish prelate who served as the Archbishop of Lima from 1579 until his death. Toribio first studied in the humanities and law before serving as a professor and later as the Grand Inquisitor at the behest of King Philip II. His piety and learning had reached the ears of the king who appointed him to that position which was considered unusual since he had no previous government or judicial experience and his noted work for the Inquisition earned him praise from the king who nominated him for the vacant Lima archdiocese. The pope confirmed this despite his protests.

July 7 - Aoi Miyake

St. Illidius: French bishop of Clermont from the 4th century and is attributed the rise of Clermont-Ferrand as a center of religious teaching and culture. Gregory of Tours mentions him in his work and the fountain at Clermont is known for its petrifying water. According to tradition, he cured the daughter of the Roman Emperor Magnus Maximus at Trier.

[chokotiramisu]

And Us, My Love, We Were Fine

By Amber Ingram Instagram: @chokotiramisu | Twitter: @chokoretomilk Website: https://chokotiramisu.wixsite.com/mysite

  And us, my love, we were fine

So why did you have to

Ruin our perfect relationship

By letting yourself be exposed

To curious eyes and affectionless hands

I guess you were clingy too

Since they found me

Buried under your fingernails

—“Crawling in my skin”

            We were fine. Why couldn’t they see that we were fine? You, with your porcelain skin, that radiated all heavenly glory that God breathed into this world. You, with those soft sun-kissed curls that framed your face more intricately than any ornate fixture residing within the world’s most renowned cathedrals. You, with those penetrating blue eyes and their black eclipses that reflected all the kindness present in this universe in stagnant pools of darkness. Us, two imperfect beings who came together to create a blessed whole, like Jesus Christ himself being reunited with God almighty in the Holy Spirit. Blood and flesh consecrated in glorious matrimony; a sacrament granted to those of His image to become one with Him. Us, my love, it should have only been us for all eternity. Only the timeless space occupied by two infinite lovers.

          Our connection was an unlikely sanctuary, an escape from our own personal hell. Us, both destitute in our own right. Us, both forbidden like the fruit belonging to the Tree of Knowledge.

          You, a prisoner enslaved by your cassocked jailer and father in the walls of his constricting half-timbered house. You were only allowed outings chaperoned by men of worth, intimately accompanied to and fro Mass and scripture studies. Though you were of a pious family, and perhaps because you were, your innocence was a treasure to be locked away in a tower. A prize to be earned by a God-fearing man of appropriate repute, whisked away and married after dowry had been exchanged.

          “Forever,” would be the oath taken by your husband.

          “Forever,” you’d consent.

          I, an Earth-dusted peasant, was born a bastard child to a lonely mother. A knight fond of debauchery with women had joined her so they were no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God had joined together was broken when the knight had separated from her and disappeared into the night. My mother was castaway from the public, no longer allowed to associate with the masses. I had vague memories of watching my mother’s tears seep into her tunic and the dark splotches would blossom like flowers.

          “Forever,” my mother promised of her love for me.

          “Forever,” I responded as my thirsty lips cracked.

          I wallowed under the sagging thatched roof that hugged the quivering dwelling once owned by my mother, recently sent to heaven by the searing steel of a barbarian’s bloodstained blade. I was shunned by all for the clergy diligently preached the Bible’s assurance that no one born of forbidden unions, nor their offspring, may enter the assembly of the Lord. Habit-clad monks, affluent in their faith yet vile with their sneers, resented me. Peasants garnished with soiled tunics, a permanent symbol of their stature, ducked through muddy alleyways to avoid my presence. Though I was of the same caste, I was an outcast; a product of misfortune and a plague unto those who associated with me. My figure was recognized as an omen like the shadow-casting hats and fear-inspiring beaks of the doctors.

          The first destined encounter of ours initiated after Mass when the air began to shed its biting chill. You were ushered between kneeling pews and delivered from the lavish church doors by your father in his vestments like we pray to be delivered from evil. Your devout bodily vessel brushed against my tunic, sodden with sin, as your feet graced the Earth and traveled past me while I prayed. I prayed for guidance, for purpose, and for hope. All those I discovered: it was you. Our eyes met and my lips curved upwards in an uncontrollable crescent. Yours did too until your father blocked me from your view with the robes of his position. He could never bless this filth.

           Only, these conversations exchanged by our eyes kept occurring as I found myself praying upon the church’s consecrated soil more and more. However, my love, I was not praying for a reason to be; no, not anymore. I had begun praying for a way to be—to be with you. Your eyes, cloaked by your veils and ribbons that crowned your royal golden hair, were the only ones that looked at me and saw a person. I knew we had to commune with each other.

           And so, I followed you home in the shadows, ever chasing your warm glow. I would clench the hem of my tunic as I avoided puddles in the streets and winded through the cobblestone homes. I chased you like the light of Christ but hid from your fathers ever-alert guard that could summon the vary wrath of God.

           During the witching hours of night, I watched as the windows of your house were enveloped by darkness, like a snuffed flame. I watched as the weight of silence pressed down upon your dwelling. I watched and I watched until I was certain that I wouldn’t be watched. Then, I took up a pebble in my palm and with it, a chance, a hope, a prayer. It connected with your window. One, two, three moments passed. Then your silhouette appeared in the window frame, more beautiful than any painting belonging to the fallen Roman empire.

           You smiled at me.

           I gleamed back at you.

          It started as occasional reveries. Our trysts would take place under the cover of night and we giggled beneath the winking stars. Feet anxiously tapped floors like a descending feather and windows were shimmied through with agility only matching the heroes worshiped by the Greeks of antiquity. We sashayed across meadows of bowing and blushing lilies with our fingers interlocked, and we danced with bare feet among budding trees to the music of our hearts. You poured your dreams of adventure into me and I divulged all my hopes of faraway travels to your wanting ears. Our whispers blended and swirled with the pollen in the gentle breeze. You were going to become something more than the daughter of a priest and I was going to be your foundation, holding your hand until somedays became todays. We were going to be trailblazers, preaching the righteousness of the glory we found within us, two daughters of the Lord. This was our time to blossom.

          I still cherish our first adventure into the promised land. Awkward hand brushes and red-cheeked glances gave way to fumbling fingers as we surveyed each other’s temples. I traced your collar with my finger to map every divine inch of your blessed bounty. Without breathing, you slid your hand under my tunic. I buzzed like a drunk bee as the trees around us shuddered their newborn leaves with anticipation. Rabbits skittered aimlessly around us as they danced God’s special dance.

          Heavy breathing and begging hips lead to blouses pressed against each other, my heart thumped like the rabbits against your body, and we exchanged unsaid words that only lips sealed together could. The blood of Christ still stained your tongue and permeated our transformative experiment. Intoxicating was the taste of wine on your mouth and I became drunk with each of your moans. The touch of our skin was mesmerizing. This was paradise. This was my heaven.

          After months of confidential meetings, we were fine. Honestly, we were fine. The days became longer, so our twilight escapes became as fleeting as the stars. Still, with eager mouths we exchanged essences and became one as crickets sang our glory. Secrecy was the dogma of our romance, but ecstasy was our scripture. We absolved each other of dresses and skirts. Our undergarments furnished the empty animal house floors, the hearth of my house, and even the forests teeming with fluttering life that we escaped to under the moon’s cool light. Fingers etched against skin. From body language in confessionals to sacrilegious rendezvous where we laid stripped of shame, we were missionaries of lust. Panting, sweating, and invincible.

          I would play with the locks of your hair as you lied your head upon my bare breast, breathing in sync with my heartbeat. I whispered forever and you hummed it back to me. Your leg strewn over mine. Your being interwoven with mine. Sin cannot be this right. No, it can only be described as a miracle. From seven loaves of bread and a few fish, we have created a beautiful union of the body.

          “I’m yours,” she said.

          “Amen,” I agreed.

          And we practiced what Jesus preached: love. We found love and we made love. We exercised it in all its forms. The moon’s humble glow became our sanctuary lamp and the hooting lyrics of night birds became our anthem. During the daylight hours, it was muted, for it was a blessing that was ours alone. Even in its purest form, it was forbidden between those with the same status as women of Eve. For Sodom and Gomorrah were burning reminders of the ruin wrought against those who violated God’s will. So, we continued in hiding. You cried every so often, fearful that your soul was damned to an afterlife of misery that your father promised to those who veered from the Christian path. I reassured you again and again that the Old Testament remained in the past, that we can create our own New Testament together. I reminded you that God only knows love, but still, you worried.

          “Forever,” I told you.

          You did not respond. If only you knew we were fine.

          Nevertheless, what was ordained for us by the Lord was not what your father on earth wanted. He did not understand when he found us in my bedstead together. He could not understand why the wool of my moth-gorged tunic intertwined with your silken dress, or why we were intertwined in the way that married couples did. Like you, he could not see that we were fine. The grace of our love was blasphemous to him with his doctrine. With the weight of excommunication, he proclaimed our relationship to be heresy, and condemned us as heathens and harlots, the scum of this world. To him, despite God’s intelligent design, we were more wretched than sinners and I, the one who corrupted your soul, was the worst offender of all.

          Alas, due to those that despised our intimacy, our deistic connection was fraught. The future that once endlessly expanded before our eyes was irrevocably mutated into naught. And you. You obeyed his word. You listened to his homily that cursed and condemned our sacred passion. You confessed and repented and prayed. A Hail Mary for every deplorable kiss we shared. An Our Father for every euphoric moan we professed. You traded the caress of my hand for that of a rosary. A decade was dedicated to each abhorrent ecstasy of the body we engaged in. A locked room was dedicated to you by your father, and he committed you to that room until our actions were washed away by the holy waters of Christ.

          “It won’t be forever,” your father assured you, with promises of forgiveness through confession.

          “Thank you,” you relented.

          My Sundays were spent worshiping every inch of your divine body, but once you were taken from me, they were spent tied to a post. For all to see, I was flagellated in the center of the town. Mud marked me like a priest on Ash Wednesday. For all to see, my tunic was stripped so my back could bear the saving lashes of justice. My breasts, which were once only yours, were now exposed to all, like our forbidden love was. The holy men propagated me as the spawn of the devil. Still, I did not cry. The flogging was carried out mercilessly by clergymen who taught mercy and compassion. With decisive boots they plowed through wilting flowers and let loose savage blow after savage blow which I bore for you. My skin broke and my blood sprinkled over the onlookers, blessing them with my righteous torture. Your father presided over this congregation and he sneered at my every groan before anointing me with his spit, like the trash he saw me as. The spit coalesced with the pricking rain and sent a chill down my back.

          Only when it stopped, only when the townspeople scattered, only when they unchained my wrists and left me to stew in my own misery did I cry. However, I did not shed a tear for the scars that would later carry my story. I did not water my eyes out of pity or embarrassment. No, my sweetheart, I cried for you, for what we had and lost with the passing of summer, and for what could have been, but now was impossible. I sobbed into my arm, sore and bloodstained, because you were my life. You were the eternal light I carried within me. You were my happiness. You were all the beauty in this world, and we were fine.

          “Will I suffer like this forever?” I demanded of God, screaming at the sky.

          He did not respond.

          Instead, His wind blew, and the rain continued to prod indifferently against my ailing body and soul. I desperately prayed that I could be carried away with it like the dry leaves, away from all this pain. Nonetheless, I learned as a child that not all prayers are answered. It was foolish of me to test the Lord.

                                                            ***

            Ashamed of our past and supposedly for your protection, your dad scurried you from home to scripture studies, from studies to church, and from church back home. Your father banished you to your room after suppers and it became a prison again. You were incarcerated for sins of the flesh and you anguished until the time came for your penance.

          I watched from afar, toiling among the castaways and ne’er-do-wells of the population. We were considered tainted, moral and spiritual lepers. No longer accepted within the society of God’s people. While this was worse than death for some of my acquaintances, it was losing you, my everything, that harrowed me the most. They looked upon me with disgust and pity, but how could they know they were the ones to be pitied? They had never been blessed by your holy touch. Me, however, I was the messiah. I had seen paradise, I knew it existed, and it was you. I just needed to get you back, to be welcomed by your heavenly gates once more. I wished and I wished that I could return to you like the prodigal son. We would be reunited, the angels would sing hallelujah like the crickets once did, and the trumpets of heaven would hail us as queens.

          From the splashing streets, I watched, and I watched. I took note of the way you would visit your window at night and cry in the moonlight. I refrained from comforting you since I knew the very thought could curse us both, and while it was hard to imagine a fate worse than what we were already subjected to, I couldn’t bring myself to put you through more pain. You were still the love of my life after all. It was during these dark hours, when the Lord’s light departs from the world and all we get are echoes of it from the moon and creaks from crippled trees, that I had envisioned our eternity. I had done it. I found a way we could be together forever, regardless of the creed of hate held by everyone else.

          I’m so sorry, my love, that I couldn’t plan our reunion with you. You must understand that it could only come to fruition during the wee hours and away from prying eyes. Just know, dear, that the plan was passed down to me like God handed down the Ten Commandments to Moses. Please, I beg of you, know that I would never harm you. It was with great regret that I crept upon your abode hours before the sun arose. Sorrow drowned my heart as I encroached the wall hosting your bedroom window. Fear washed over me as I pried it open and looked within. Even in unmeasurable darkness, your silhouette was the manifestation of perfection. The way your hair just barely tickled the small of your back and the tantalizing slope of your hips reassured me that this was indeed God’s plan.

          Having ducked through your window, I was finally in your divine presence again. It felt surreal to me and I held my breath, afraid that even the slightest exhale would fracture this moment. Then, with a tattered cloth in hand, I approached your bed. Many a moon I dreamed of sharing a bed with you again, but I never imagined this. I never wanted this. We were fine. But you drove me to this, I told myself. That is why I interrupted your immaculate slumber by thrusting the wadded fabric into your mouth. The fibers filled your mouth like the Word of God. With that task done, I used your sheets to bound your hands.

          You were surprised by how I was still able to carry you after my floggings. You would also be surprised by the strength adrenaline gives you and at what lengths a desperate soul will go. I though, I was blessed. God bestowed these powers unto me so I could execute my brilliant retribution. With His light flowing through my being, I slithered like the serpent in the garden through your window and with you in my arms. We landed with the slightest tumble, but quickly faded among the dark shadows that haunt this village at night.

          “Forever,” I whispered.

          You whimpered.

          What once started as occasional reveries now became our final romp. I walked with your wriggling body in my arms under the cover of night and I giggled. The leaves crunching beneath my reverent steps were the shattered pieces of our past dream. No more meadows, no more interlocked fingers, and no more dancing hearts. These were desires of old that we confessed to each other in an era gone by. You were going to be more than the daughter of a priest and I was going to be your foundation, but these opportunities were robbed from us just like you were robbed from me. We were going to be a new kind of trailblazers, decrying and damning the vary self-righteousness possessed by your father and all men of this world. Us, two daughters of the world, would be rid of these demons.

          My house swallowed us as we bent under the entryway and crossed the hearth. My home—no, our home was once a chapel for the passionate praise of our earthly forms. Memories of our time together flooded my mind as I dropped you on the ground. My fingers tingled with devout vice and they stripped you of your nightgown. My only candle burned in a dingy tin holder and projected our true forms as shadows on the straw roof. The light it emanated was shy and resembled the fleeting smile you used to offer my way when we were infinite. Your skin was dull in the lowlight, but I knew its radiance. Your glow was already present every time I closed my eyes.

          While you lied on the floor, shaking with fear—maybe anticipation, I wondered—I read the scripture of your body with a gentle hand. You responded with quivering psalms begging for salvation, and I sung amen. Forever my lips promised as I kissed you one last time. And forever is what I saw reflected in your eyes.

          We sealed this covenant by breaking bread. The blood we spilt together as tithing for this ethereal connection flowed from us. I was the clergy that presided over your service, treasuring you like the very Eucharist that brought peace to us all.

          “Forever,” is what I thought you said as a labored whisper whistled out your dry mouth. Then, you were silent. Forever, I promised as I withdrew the dripping knife. Mine forever.

                                                            ***

            As the white of the clouds infiltrated the Earth in icy flakes before disappearing into wet dirt, my hearth was a pew that I knelt upon to praise you. Why didn’t you listen to me when I said we were fine? We had become one, you and I, and it was our sacred secret. It was a religion of passion, of romance, and of love that we could have preached forever. We could have poured new scriptures from our veins, splayed our feelings out like Jesus’ limbs on the cross for all the world to bear witness to. We could have absolved all people of their old-fashioned ways and furnished their lives with compassion. We would have been pastors, teaching a belief that could be learned in barns, in homes, and in forests alike in full view of God’s glory under the sun, or the moon. Words etched into hearts. From flagellation in the streets to the lost souls floundering in this town’s gutters, we could have stripped this world of its cruelty and became missionaries of love. Laughing, smiling, and eternal.

          I would have played with the locks of your hair as the world laid before us, awaiting our every beck and call. We could have whispered forever, and everyone would sing it back to us. The purifying waters of your blue eyes would lock with mine. Our beings would have been connected forever. God could not be this right. No, not even he could envision a miracle like this. We, the two queens of this world, would have created something never imagined before. True love.

          We’d practice it forever, in all its forms. During the daylight and during the nighttime. No longer forbidden, and with no fear of the fate that befell Sodom and Gomorrah, we’d practice our will. But you continued hiding away from me and brought us to this point. I, knelt above you, cried. I was fearful that I had damned your soul to an afterlife of misery. Your father promised it, but I was the one who wrought it. You were mine forever.

          Through the damp Earth wettened by mine and God’s tears, your penetrating black eyes reflected all the darkness in my heart. Your fraying curls and decomposing skin were reminders of how truly alone I was in this world. We were fine.

          Nothing was supposed to corrupt you, not the blinding torchlight of a mob, the clang of uncaring feet belonging to armored men, nor the molesting wet snouts of voracious hounds. Lucifer was cast from paradise and left to forever turmoil amongst the flames of hell, and we too were banished from heaven. Never again will we frolic through the sprawling fields of each other’s imaginations, never again will we be pioneers exploring every inch of each other’s undiscovered bodies, and never again will our hips beckon to each other between whispers of I love you. Will there be any relief from this torment? No, because they’ve pillaged our dreams, they’ve raped our future, and they’ve tainted our love with their blasphemy. They smote our pilgrimages of holy flesh with their Spanish inquisition of bigotry. Their eyes burned with infernal fires as they pried you from your sanctuary under my hearth. My tears christened the earth they scorched with their hate as they dragged you away.

           They did not understand that we were fine. They could never understand. How could they? Our passion transcended comprehension. And they dare demand penance of me?

           No, I would not repent. Our love was a covenant I would never break. They called me a witch, cleansed my home with fire, and left me there as they dragged you away from me one final time. But how could they know? How could they know that our two imperfect souls already came together to create a blessed whole, better than Jesus Christ himself, or God, or even the Holy Spirit. My blood and flesh were consecrated in the intensifying flames consuming what I once called my home. And us, my love, we are eternity. We created a timeless space for us infinite lovers amongst the stars. And alas, we were fine.

[pamphletstoinspire]

Prophecies of Our Lady of Good Success About Our Times

During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, Our Lady of Good Success appeared in Quito, Ecuador to a Spanish nun whose little-known but extraordinary life has a direct connection with our days.

The Pope’s “infallibility will be declared a dogma of Faith by the same Pope chosen to proclaim the dogma of the mystery of my Immaculate Conception. He will be persecuted and imprisoned in the Vatican through the usurpation of the Pontifical States and through the malice, envy, and avarice of an earthly monarch.”

“Unbridled passions will give way to a total corruption of customs because Satan will reign through the Masonic sects, targeting the children in particular to ensure general corruption.

“Unhappy, the children of those times! Seldom will they receive the sacraments of Baptism and Confirmation. As for the sacrament of Penance, they will confess only while attending Catholic schools, which the devil will do his utmost to destroy by means of persons in authority.

“The same will occur with Holy Communion. Oh, how it hurts me to tell you that there will be many and enormous public and hidden sacrileges!

“In those times, the sacrament of Extreme Unction will be largely ignored.… Many will die without receiving it, being thereby deprived of innumerable graces, consolation, and strength in the great leap from time to eternity.

“The sacrament of Matrimony, which symbolizes the union of Christ with the Church, will be thoroughly attacked and profaned. Masonry, then reigning, will implement iniquitous laws aimed at extinguishing this sacrament. They will make it easy for all to live in sin, thus multiplying the birth of illegitimate children without the Church’s blessing….

“Secular education will contribute to a scarcity of priestly and religious vocations.”

“The holy sacrament of Holy Orders will be ridiculed, oppressed, and despised, for in this both the Church and God Himself are oppressed and reviled, since He is represented by His priests.

“The devil will work to persecute the ministers of the Lord in every way, working with baneful cunning to destroy the spirit of their vocation and corrupting many. Those who will thus scandalize the Christian flock will bring upon all priests the hatred of bad Christians and the enemies of the One, Holy, Roman Catholic, and Apostolic Church. This apparent triumph of Satan will cause enormous suffering to the good pastors of the Church…and to the Supreme Pastor and Vicar of Christ on earth who, a prisoner in the Vatican, will shed secret and bitter tears in the presence of God Our Lord, asking for light, sanctity, and perfection for all the clergy of the world, to whom he is King and Father.”

“Unhappy times will come wherein those who should fearlessly defend the rights of the Church will instead, blinded despite the light, give their hand to the Church’s enemies and do their bidding. But when [evil] seems triumphant and when authority abuses its power, committing all manner of injustice and oppressing the weak, their ruin shall be near. They will fall and crash to the ground.

“Then will the Church, joyful and triumphant like a young girl, reawaken and be comfortably cradled in the arms of my most dear and elect son of those times. If he lends an ear to the inspirations of grace–one of which will be the reading of these great mercies that my Son and I have had toward you–we shall fill him with graces and very special gifts and will make him great on earth and much greater in Heaven. There we have reserved a precious seat for him because, heedless of men, he will have fought for truth and ceaselessly defended the rights of the Church, deserving to be called ‘martyr.’”

“At the end of the nineteenth century and throughout a great part of the twentieth, many heresies will be propagated in these lands.…

“The small number of souls who will secretly safeguard the treasure of Faith and virtues will suffer a cruel, unspeakable, and long martyrdom. Many will descend to their graves through the violence of suffering and will be counted among the martyrs who sacrificed themselves for the country and the Church.

“To be delivered from the slavery of these heresies, those whom the merciful love of my Son has destined for this restoration will need great will-power, perseverance, courage, and confidence in God. To try the faith and trust of these just ones, there will be times when all will seem lost and paralyzed. It will then be the happy beginning of the complete restoration….

“In those times the atmosphere will be saturated with the spirit of impurity which, like a filthy sea, will engulf the streets and public places with incredible license.… Innocence will scarcely be found in children, or modesty in women.

“He who should speak seasonably will remain silent.

“There shall be scarcely any virgin souls in the world. The delicate flower of virginity will seek refuge in the cloisters.…Without virginity, fire from heaven will be needed to purify these lands.…

“Sects, having permeated all social classes, will find ways of introducing themselves into the very heart of homes to corrupt the innocence of children. The children’s hearts will be dainty morsels to regale the devil.…

“Religious communities will remain to sustain the Church and work with courage for the salvation of souls.… The secular clergy will fall far short of what is expected of them because they will not pursue their sacred duty. Losing the divine compass, they will stray from the way of priestly ministry mapped out for them by God and will become devoted to money, seeking it too earnestly.

“Pray constantly, implore tirelessly, and weep bitter tears in the seclusion of your heart, beseeching the Eucharistic Heart of my most holy Son to take pity on His ministers and to end as soon as possible these unhappy times by sending to His Church the Prelate who shall restore the spirit of her priests.”

From: www.pamphletstoinspire.com

[celebrantaustralia-blog]

Decide what kind of ceremony you want: share the theme with your celebrant

In the process of organizing a wedding with the choice of flowers, cake and dress, it is essential to choose your type of ceremony so choose your celebrant Australia. If you do not know a priest personally, this choice may be more complicated than it seems. If you practice regularly in a church and you know and accept all its dogmas, it will be easy for you. Be careful about music choices that are often regulated in places of worship. If you are less traditional or non-practicing or if and your fiancé is not of the same religion you should find a celebrant who has experience in interfaith weddings or who agrees to celebrate marriages of different religions.

Ask the celebrant questions

If you want a strictly legal marriage, a notary can do the trick but beware, a notary does not necessarily have the talent to generate emotions. You can also name one of your close celebrants for a day but beware, not everyone has the ease in writing and can speak in public.How is the ceremony personalized? Is the ceremony always the same for all weddings? Where do the rights to sign a marriage declaration come from? What is the structure of the ceremony? Is a marriage contract included? Is it possible to get married in separation of property or only in acquiring society? Does the celebrant travel to a place of your choice? Is the ceremony conducive to emotion? Will the type of ceremony offered please your guests? These questions are essential to ask.

Do your homework

Look for the celebrant who really suits you and demand to really be able to choose the one that respects your tastes. Take the time it takes and do not stop on the first comer. Your entire wedding ceremony depends on it.Ask the name of a person theyhelped married to take references. Ask how many celebrations they have celebrated. Check the communications and the professionalism of the customer contact.

Do not engage until you have met the celebrant in person

It is important to meet in person with the celebrant who will celebrate your wedding before you commit. It is by meeting the person that you will feel if it suits you or not. If does not leave you feeling confident in a simple head-to-head, how will they be able to put you at ease during the most stressful day of your life?

Conclusion: Check if really they have the legal power to get you marry

This is a very important point. Indeed, it must be ensured that the officiant holds the legal rights to sign a proper marriage declaration. It is important that your marriage declaration be done properly and with seriousness. Check the competencies of the celebrant with regard to the publication of the banns and the different matrimonial regimes. It would also be important to ask on behalf of which religious society the celebrant has organized the marriage.

[talabib]

Leadership Journey: Germany

 When we think of Germany, we often associate it with black-and-white footage from horrific conflicts: Hitler delivering impassioned speeches from behind a podium; bombs raining down on European cities; half-starved people, freshly liberated from concentration camps. But Germany’s history is much richer than this.

Let’s dive into German history and explore some of the facts that lie beyond common knowledge.

Berlin’s Brandenburg Gate, the most famous monument in Germany, has a bittersweet history.

On July 13, 2014, a sea of wild soccer fans stood before the Brandenburg Gate in Germany’s capital city, Berlin. It was the day of the FIFA World Cup finals, and, on a screen as tall as the gate itself, Germany went head to head with one of the federation’s most formidable teams, Argentina.

Why did Germany screen this historic game here?

Well, the Brandenburg Gate, according to professor and politician Monika Grütters, is a locus of symbolic power for Germans, a sort of centerpiece to all national celebrations. Indeed, this austere monument, which is considered a masterwork of neoclassical architecture, is the most famous landmark in modern-day Germany.

Commissioned by the Prussian king Frederick William II and intended as a symbol of peace, the Brandenburg Gate was constructed between 1788 and 1791. It was modeled after the gate to the Acropolis in Athens, and it served as a sort of capstone to Frederick II’s project of cultural improvement in Berlin. He’d already had a series of new and fashionable streets built, as well as an opera house and a palatial library.

Though born in triumph and optimism, the gate soon saw darker days. In 1806, Napoleon Bonaparte led the French army past the gate’s Doric columns and into Berlin. The French had prevailed at the battles of Jena and Auerstädt, defeating the Prussian army. Napoleon was now ruler of Prussia’s capital city.

Nor did Napoleon hesitate to demonstrate his dominance. He had the bronze sculpture that crowns the gate removed, carted all the way to Paris and put on display in the Louvre. This was a symbolic slap in the face, for the sculpture in question was the Quadriga of Victory – a horse-drawn chariot driven by the female figure Victory.

The Prussians got the last laugh. Seven years later, with the assistance of the Russians, they defeated Napoleon and marched to Paris, where they reclaimed the stolen Quadriga. In 1814, it was returned to its rightful place atop the Brandenburg Gate.

It’s still there to this day. On that July day in 2014, it overlooked the crowd of joyful soccer fans as Germany scored one goal against Argentina and won the country its fourth World Cup.

The Berlin Wall, constructed in 1961, physically divided an already ideologically divided country.

If you were to walk along the Spree river past the Reichstag building where the German Parliament meets, you wouldn’t think that Berlin was a city with a grim history. In fact, it looks like any other affluent metropolis – except that, along the waterfront stand white crosses commemorating those who died while attempting to scale the Berlin Wall, which divided East and West Germany for almost 30 years.

The Berlin Wall, constructed in 1961, was the result of years of political disunity.

In 1945, directly after World War II, Germany was divided into four zones controlled by the four principal military powers: the United States, the United Kingdom, France and Russia. Berlin was divided along the same lines.

In the eastern, Soviet-controlled zone, the leadership instituted a communist system of government. The other three zones were democratic and promoted more capitalistic values. This led to an economic and ideological imbalance. By 1952, citizens in West Germany were enjoying much more wealth and freedom than their East German counterparts – and, from that year forward, roughly 200,000 East Germans emigrated to the West every year.

By 1961, more than 3.5 million East Germans had defected. And so, on August 12, 1961, the West German border was closed. At 2:00 a.m. on August 13, the East German government began building a wall.

The Berlin Wall created a no-man’s land between East and West Germany. On the eastern side, anyone who approached the wall was shot, no questions asked.

Furthermore, since the wall’s construction was unannounced and took place in the dead of night, many Germans were separated from their families. If you lived in East Germany and your spouse, parent or child was residing in the West on that fateful night – well, you wouldn’t see them again until reunification and the demolition of the wall in 1989.

Though the physical wall came down almost 30 years ago, there is still an ideological wall of sorts; East Germany has palpably communist leanings, while West Germany is as capitalistic as ever.

And the wall is undeniably present in the country’s collective memory. Cobblestones delineate where the wall once stood, and tourists and locals alike walk along it daily and remember.

German influence once extended much further, making the country’s borders difficult to trace.

Like the Seine in France and the Thames in England, the Rhine river in Germany is as much a cultural symbol as a geographical feature.

Indeed, some of Germany’s most famous artists have incorporated it into their work. In his poem Die Lorelei, the nineteenth-century German poet Heinrich Heine situates the siren-like Lorelei on a cliff overlooking the Rhine, where she combs her long, blonde hair and sings bewitching songs that distract sailors on passing ships, causing them to wreck on the rocks. And composer Richard Wagner’s cycle of epic musical dramas, The Ring of the Nibelung, uses the Rhine as a backdrop.

Now, it’s hard to get more German than Wagner and Heine, but, if you were to look at a map, the Rhine might not seem that German; for a good stretch, it runs along and even crosses over the French-German border. So why is it considered so fundamentally German?

Well, current European borders were drawn relatively recently, and Germany once encompassed far more than it does today. So, historically and culturally speaking, the Rhine is decidedly German.

The city of Strasbourg, renowned for its massive cathedral, is a similar case. Though located in a French city, the cathedral’s architecture is patently German. Indeed, in 1770, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Germany’s most famous poet, said that the cathedral, which was completed in 1439, was a perfect symbol of German identity.

Furthermore, inside the cathedral is a large astronomical clock housed within a fine-wrought, three-tiered construction – an excellent specimen from the German clock-making industry that had its heyday near the tail end of the Renaissance. The clock truly is marvelous. Every hour, as the bells begin to toll, small, carved figurines act out scenes important to Christianity.

So the cathedral and the clock within it, though in France, are examples of German ingenuity. And it’s not hard to find other examples of German technology and architecture beyond the borders of modern-day Germany. Indeed, German culture and influence once extended far and wide into many different kingdoms and principalities.

German identity is constructed around the German language, standardized by Martin Luther.

During World War II, Thomas Mann, the German novelist and Nobel Laureate, went into exile. It would be more than a decade before he returned to his native land. However, when he did return in the summer of 1949, he told journalists that he’d never ceased to feel like a German author. For Mann, his language, in which he’d never stopped writing, was a truer home than his country.

Indeed, German identity is constructed around the German language.

As previously mentioned, modern-day Germany was formed relatively recently. For hundreds of years, the Germanic kingdoms within the Holy Roman Empire – Prussia, Bavaria, Austria and Saxony – were connected by nothing but language.But that’s not to say this connection wasn’t powerful and important.

Back in 1806, when Napoleon invaded Prussia, the Bavarian King Ludwig I sought to strengthen German identity and unify his people against the French threat by building a massive hall. Called the Walhalla, it contained statues of famous individuals who spoke the German language – such as Erasmus of Rotterdam, Albrecht Dürer and Ludwig van Beethoven, among many others.

The language-based identity that King Ludwig I memorialized remains strong today, because, though there are many regional dialects, all Germans are united by a standardized written language – the legacy of a sixteenth-century Augustinian monk named Martin Luther.

Luther, a professor of theology at the University of Wittenberg, was a zealous reformer, and in 1517, he began to take issue with the dogmas and restrictions imposed by the Catholic church. He believed that laymen should have direct contact with God, unmediated by priests, and so he translated the Bible – hitherto only available in Latin – into German.

The printing press invented by Johannes Gutenberg in the previous century made possible the wide dissemination of the Luther Bible, and soon it was being used as a standard reference book for written German, selling more than 500,000 copies before Luther’s death in 1546. Its unifying influence can be felt to this day.

Beer is about as German as it gets, and consuming it is a national pastime with a rich history.

France is the nation of wine, Russia, the nation of vodka. Indeed, some countries are so closely linked to a particular beverage that you can’t talk about one without thinking of the other. And for Germans the national elixir is beer.

In addition to solidifying German national identity, King Ludwig I also transformed the consumption of beer into a cultural institution.

In October 1810, the young king got married in Munich, the Bavarian capital. The matrimonial festivities included a great deal of beer consumption, and the populace enjoyed themselves so much that, in every year since, they’ve repeated the celebration, which was christened Oktoberfest.

Today, this two-week-long beer-drinking bonanza is the most popular festival in the world. It attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors – more than even the Rio Carnival in Brazil – and in Oktoberfest fortnight those attendees consume some 7.5 million liters of beer.

Munich may be the beeriest city in the land, but the beverage is popular throughout Germany and has been for centuries. At the British Museum, one can view an impressive display of drinking vessels – testaments to the fact that Germanic peoples have been taking beer seriously for quite some time.

Indeed, it would seem that Germans have been guzzling the stuff for roughly 2,000 years.

The Roman historian Tacitus, writing in the first century CE, notes that barbarian tribes living along the Rhine and near the Baltic Sea shared an enthusiasm for beer, which they would consume by the barrel, sometimes from sunrise till sunset. Archaeological evidence suggests that the Germanic tribes, who warred against the Roman Empire for centuries, used beer as a sort of performance-enhancing drug.

Beer is a libation of such national importance that, in the nineteenth century, some Germans sought to claim it as a symbol of German identity.

These nationalists cited the German Beer Purity Law written in 1487, which restricts the ingredients admissible in the production of pure beer to water, barley and hops. They claimed that Germany was the only country that brewed beer with pure, untainted water. Thus, it was the land with the best beer.

National pride in beer is still alive and well. Indeed, the German Beer Purity Law is enforced to this day, though some exceptions have been made. Yeast and sugar are now allowed, and recipes for gluten-free beer are considered special cases.

Remnants of Germany’s vast medieval trade network can still be found abroad today.

Today, Germany is famous for its strong economy, but this is nothing new. Indeed, the Germans have been commercially successful for hundreds of years.

Back in the twelfth century, in the northern port cities of Lübeck and Hamburg, a number of merchant guilds came together and formed the Hanseatic League, later called Hansa. This confederation soon attracted new members, and by 1400, 90 German market towns had joined it.

It was a confederation with considerable power. The Hanseatic cities were united but independent; they each adhered to the Hanseatic legal system and funded their own armies, and they all had each other’s back, so they didn’t have to worry about fines or harassment from local lords or nobility.

Most importantly, they controlled the shipping routes throughout the north. They hired guards to protect their merchants against pirates in the North and the Baltic Seas, not to mention along Europe’s major rivers from the Volga to the Thames. These were attractive perks indeed, and the Hansa were very successful.

So Hansa didn’t even need to trade or produce goods; they simply grew wealthy and enriched their region by providing secure trade routes.

One can still see remnants of this vast German trade network today.

For instance, near Cannon Street Station in London, there’s a dark passageway named Steelyard Station. Back in the thirteenth century, the Steelyard – or, to give it its German name, the Stahlhof – was a famous trading spot.

In fact, it was the English headquarters of Hansa – a massive warehouse where merchant ships would offload German wine and beer before being reloaded with wool, a staple of English trade.

Germany maintained its economic presence in England well into the nineteenth century, with affluent German traders as well as artists such as Hans Holbein the Younger playing a central role in English society.

Prussian royalty wore iron jewelry to show that they preferred utility to luxury.

Modern-day Germans aren’t exactly known for their frivolity, and it wasn’t much different two hundred years ago when Germans wore jewelry that was almost as sober as their personalities.

Unlike most European courts, which treasured gemstones and finery, Prussian royalty preferred iron.

In Prussia, jewelry was strikingly sober, particularly in the nineteenth century. It wasn’t uncommon for the pendant of a necklace to consist of nothing more than a black iron cross.

Nor was iron considered a precious metal. In fact, it was quite commonly the material used to make household items such as forks and knives, and military ones such as armor and weapons.

The metal did have symbolic value. In Prussia, iron jewelry showed that the wearer was willing to sacrifice luxury at the altar of utility.

The fad for this sombre and unassuming metal was particularly pronounced in the Prussian capital of Berlin.

Just consider King Frederick William I, who, after beating back an army of invading Swedes in the 1670s, celebrated his victory by commissioning a statuette. It portrayed the vanquishing king mounted on a horse and trampling upon a vile dragon. In any other court, such a sculpture would have been cast in bronze. But in Frederick William I’s, which was based in Berlin, it was made from iron.

During the 1806 Napoleonic Wars, the Prussian predilection for iron experienced a resurgence. In Berlin, Prussian nobles gave their valuable pieces of jewelry to the state to raise money for the war, and, in return, were given jewelry made of iron. Nonetheless, Napoleon was victorious.

In 1813, Prussia’s position improved. Napoleon’s army had been weakened, and King Frederick William III decided to honor the country’s beloved metal by reviewing the system of military decoration. He introduced a new military decoration: the Iron Cross.

Napoleon was defeated by the Prussians near Leipzig in 1813, and every man who’d participated in the war effort received the Iron Cross. Such an egalitarian gesture had never before been made in the armed forces.

One of the darker sides of Germany’s recent history is expressed in the art of Käthe Kollwitz.

In the 1860s, the Prussian statesman Otto von Bismarck led his country to the apotheosis of its military glory, and, in 1871, he became chancellor of the newly united German Empire. These were the first steps toward a modern German state and they were undeniably auspicious. Unfortunately, they were short-lived – crushed before the next century was even 20 years old.

This dark patch in Germany’s history is well expressed in the art of Käthe Kollwitz.

At the turn of the twentieth century, Kollwitz was living in Berlin’s Prenzlauer Berg, a working-class neighborhood. Hundreds of thousands of Berliners lived in abject poverty, despite the social-welfare institutions instated by Bismarck.

Indeed, the restless and despairing atmosphere reminded Kollwitz of the conditions that led to the German Peasants’ War of the 1520s, during which hundreds of thousands of peasants revolted against their masters and were brutally massacred. Kollwitz even made a series of paintings depicting these events.

Another of her moving works, Woman and Dead Child, honors the impoverished mothers of Berlin, who could do nothing but watch as their children succumbed to malnutrition and illness.

Käthe Kollwitz’s paintings weren’t mere imaginings of reported events. She’d witnessed the horrors of history firsthand – and, when World War I began in 1914, she was subjected to even more personal hardship.

One of Kollwitz’s sons, Peter, who wasn’t yet of age, asked if he could volunteer to fight. Kollwitz convinced her husband to grant his permission, and Peter was killed in action that same year.

This threw Kollwitz into an awful state of depression. For the next ten years, she worked on a statue dedicated to the memory of her dead son; it’s of two kneeling figures – a woman, stooped and shrouded, and a man, whose arms are crossed over his chest. Its name is The Grieving Parents.

In a chilling echo of Kollwitz’s first loss, her grandson, also named Peter, was killed in World War II, just two years before Kollwitz’s death.

Kollwitz never stopped creating art about the things that had shaped her life: death, grief and war – three elements that were all too common throughout Germany in the first half of the 20th century.

Germany’s history, though somewhat overshadowed by the grim events of recent history, is rich and fascinating. Before fascism and communism, not to mention the disturbing events of World War I, Germany was a federation of countries united by a common language that had been standardized by the great religious reformer Martin Luther. Beer, the favorite national drink, brought Germanic peoples even closer together. Furthermore, Germans controlled one of the largest international-trade networks of medieval times, and their homeland gave birth to both gothic architecture and mechanical clocks.

[theatheistphotographer]

Day 76 — Broken

For gay Catholics who had hoped Pope Francis’ recent comments that “homosexual people have the right to be in a family,” would soften the longstanding bias against them, the latest edict from the Vatican will deal a heavy blow. On Monday, the Vatican’s Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith, which deals in dogma, released a long-awaited response to a “dubium” or question presented for study. In it, they said priests cannot bless same-sex marriages because they “cannot bless sin.”

The Catholic church only recognizes marriage between heterosexual couples who have the intention to bear children. “For this reason, it is not licit to impart a blessing on relationships, or partnerships, even stable, that involve sexual activity outside of marriage (i.e., outside the indissoluble union of a man and a woman open in itself to the transmission of life), as is the case of the unions between persons of the same sex,” the statement decrees. “The presence in such relationships of positive elements, which are in themselves to be valued and appreciated, cannot justify these relationships and render them legitimate objects of an ecclesial blessing, since the positive elements exist within the context of a union not ordered to the Creator’s plan.”

To be undeniably clear, the statement goes on: “Furthermore, since blessings on persons are in relationship with the sacraments, the blessing of homosexual unions cannot be considered licit. This is because they would constitute a certain imitation or analogue of the nuptial blessing invoked on the man and woman united in the sacrament of Matrimony, while in fact ‘there are absolutely no grounds for considering homosexual unions to carry out God’s will in their lives.’”

In October, Francis — who once graced the cover of Advocate magazine — caused a stir when he was quoted in a documentary that premiered at the Rome Film Festival saying he believed gay couples should enjoy legal protections. At that time, the Vatican Secretary of State intervened, issuing talking points to its ambassadors about what the pope “really meant” so as not to imply a change in doctrine. They said he was simply reiterating a comment he made before he was pope, when he was the archbishop of Buenos Aires and that in fact, as pope, he really did oppose same-sex marriage.

Excerpt: The Pope Opened the Door to Gay Unions, the Vatican Just Slammed it Shut, Barbie Latza Nadeau, Daily Beast, 15 March 2021

[cristianesimocattolico]

Divorzio, 50 anni (di disperazione) portati male

I 50 anni della legge Fortuna, altro che civilità: per la "conquista" del divorzio abbiamo già pagato un prezzo molto alto. Dalla fabbrica divorzista continuano a sgorgare immensi oceani di sofferenza, malesseri collettivi, disagio sociale, tragedie familiari, vite spezzate, episodi di violenza e pure impoverimento collettivo. Oggi persino nel mondo cattolico è palpabile la riluttanza nel proporre la questione. Il risultato è che mentre il numero delle separazioni si è stabilizzato, negli ultimi anni è letteralmente crollato il tasso di nuzialità.

Cinquant’anni portati malissimo. Ma come accade per certe signore di mezza età, vista la loro ottima posizione sociale, non ci può azzardare a dirlo se non di nascosto e tra pochi intimi.

Stiamo parlando del divorzio, del quale abbiamo appena celebrato la ricorrenza del mezzo secolo dalla sua introduzione in Italia. I commentatori che ne hanno trattato hanno seguito quasi tutti la suddetta regola, rimanendo sulla falsariga della “conquista di libertà”, soprattutto per il genere femminile. Sono infatti pochi gli impertinenti che, come il sottoscritto, quando parlano dell’argomento si ostinano a voler guardare in faccia la realtà tutta intera.

Quando pubblicai il mio primo saggio sul divorzio eravamo nel 2008, e già c’era chi guardava all’imminente ricorrenza del quarantennale come a un traguardo di progresso e di civiltà da celebrare. All’epoca il mio intento non fu quello di contrapporre alla ideologia divorzista una difesa delle ragioni del matrimonio. Anzi, il mio desiderio era di compiere un’operazione di laicità. La “Fabbrica dei Divorzi” (ed. San Paolo) volle essere un tentativo di guardare all’esperienza del libero divorzio giudicandola dai frutti. Non si metteva in discussione il dogma per cui si fosse trattato di una “conquista di civiltà” partendo da una petizione di principio. Al contrario, si voleva dimostrare, dati alla mano, quello di cui nessuno parlava, e cioè che per la pretesa conquista del divorzio in poco meno di quarant’anni già avevamo pagato un prezzo molto alto, in termini di malesseri collettivi, disagio sociale, tragedie familiari, vite spezzate, episodi di violenza, e pure di impoverimento collettivo.

La prima recensione la ricevetti su Famiglia Cristiana. Nulla di strano, visto che l’editore era lo stesso. Tre pagine intere con il titolo del libro – La Fabbrica dei Divorzi – citato persino in copertina. L'articolo iniziava così: “Un libro che farà discutere molto”. Quando lo lessi, benché sinceramente grato alle Edizioni Paoline, rimasi alquanto scettico, perché ero sicuro che non avrei trovato attenzione al di fuori di un ristretto circuito culturale. I fatti mi hanno dato ragione, perché ancor oggi che siamo arrivati al fatidico cinquantennale di cosa sia diventato il divorzio la società non ha affatto voglia di discutere.

Oggi persino nel mondo cattolico è palpabile una certa riluttanza nel riproporre la questione. Certo, sussiste ancora l’eroica fermezza di alcuni vescovi e parroci. Ma in molte altre diocesi e parrocchie – probabilmente la maggioranza – gli ecclesiastici sembrano persino compiaciuti del fatto di “essersi attestati su nuove posizioni”, come recitavano i bollettini di guerra ai tempi dell'Eiar, per non fare capire che le nostre truppe erano state sopraffatte.

Il primo esempio moderno di no-fault divorce, divorzio senza colpa, venne introdotto in California dal primo gennaio del medesimo anno 1970, sotto il governatorato di Ronald Reagan. Fu la prima volta in assoluto che, in uno Stato moderno, divorziare diventò un diritto soggettivo insindacabile di ciascuno dei coniugi. È innegabile che, secondo lo spirito del tempo, avrebbe dovuto trattarsi in particolare di un diritto femminile. Nel mondo nuovo che si era avviato con la grande contestazione del sessantotto, la donna avrebbe dovuto vedersi garantiti gli strumenti legali per liberarsi dalla dipendenza dal maschio. L’aborto fu solo il passo successivo, tanto che la famosa sentenza Roe Vs. Wade è del 1973, e la nostra legge sull’aborto seguì nel 1978, con il presupposto di voler autorizzare come “rimedio” ciò che anche in Italia sarebbe subito diventato un insindacabile diritto. Basta uno sguardo alle date per capire quanto fosse falsa la vulgata laicista sul “ritardo civile” che il nostro Paese avrebbe attraversato in quegli anni, a causa della presenza del Vaticano. Da allora, le cose si sono evolute in un senso univoco, in modo da rendere il divorzio sempre più facile e incondizionato, fino alla recente introduzione, nel 2015, del cosiddetto “divorzio breve”, e successivamente di quello che, in certi casi più semplici, si può ottenere senza nemmeno dover passare dal giudice o dagli avvocati.

Il millenario istituto del matrimonio è così divenuto nel giro di pochi decenni un negozio giuridico senza più alcun reale valore né privato né pubblico. Un vero e proprio caso unico del diritto civile, che per il resto si regge ancora sull'elementare principio per cui pacta sunt servanda. In realtà, le promesse del giorno delle nozze – coabitazione, fedeltà, impegno a crescere i figli insieme – al giorno d’oggi non hanno più alcun valore, perché i coniugi non hanno più strumenti per chiederne conto all'altro.

La gente comune ha iniziato a percepirlo, e a regolarsi di conseguenza. Infatti, il numero delle separazioni e dei divorzi in Italia è sempre sostenuto, ma ormai da un decennio a questa parte si sta stabilizzando. Negli ultimi anni, invece, è letteralmente crollato il tasso di nuzialità – cioè dei nuovi matrimoni –, mentre l’indice di natalità continua a essere tra i più bassi del mondo. Oggi, piuttosto che esporsi al rischio del divorzio, le coppie preferiscono non sposarsi nemmeno più e limitarsi al figlio unico. Tant’è che ogni anno i telegiornali ci confermano che le nuove nascite sono ormai stabilmente al di sotto della soglia psicologica delle cinquecentomila all’anno, e presto verranno surclassate dal numero delle morti.

Le ragioni di questo fenomeno epocale sono, a mio avviso, riconducibili a una sola: il matrimonio non è più percepito e praticato, né tanto meno tutelato dalla legge, come un’istituzione fondamentale della società. Esso non è più vissuto dalle persone come un’alleanza tra uomo e donna per uno scopo comune, stipulata non solo nell’interesse degli sposi e dei loro figli, bensì di tutta la società. Al contrario, il matrimonio oggi sembra essersi trasformato in una cerimonia facoltativa che prelude a un rapporto liberamente risolvibile, al quale si accede soltanto in vista della tutela dei propri interessi individuali, sia affettivi che economici. Senza alcun riguardo per le ragioni dei figli, le quali, rispetto alla volontà di separarsi dei genitori, passeranno regolarmente in secondo piano.

E allora, che senso ha attardarsi ancora oggi a parlar male del divorzio, invece di attendere che esso finisca per esaurirsi demograficamente, così come sembra che avverrà per il matrimonio? Il motivo è che, per quanto nessuno lo dica apertamente, a cinquant’anni dalla legge Fortuna-Baslini la questione del conflitto tra i sessi che si esprime nella rottura dei nuclei familiari non è stata per nulla metabolizzata. Nella realtà quotidiana, dalla fabbrica divorzista continuano a sgorgare immensi oceani di sofferenza, disagio psicologico, malessere economico. Ogni anno, solo in Italia, i fatti di sangue direttamente connessi alle separazioni genitoriali continuano inesorabilmente a essere migliaia. I morti sono stabilmente sopra il centinaio, e vengono ricordati solo in quanto si tratti di “femminicidi”, senza considerare che spesso anche l’autore di certi fatti finisce per suicidarsi, talvolta dopo avere ucciso anche i figli. Inoltre, se andassimo a indagare anche sui semplici suicidi, i numeri salirebbero vertiginosamente.

La crisi dell'istituto matrimoniale sta generando depressione, malesseri, disagio sociale e povertà collettiva, in maniera molto più ampia di quanto il mondo del diritto e della comunicazione siano disposti ad ammettere. Gli operatori di questi settori, infatti, lavorano tuttora sulla base delle coordinate culturali di cinquant'anni fa. Vedono ancora, cioè, il divorzio come strumento di liberazione da contrapporre alla struttura irrimediabilmente autoritaria della famiglia patriarcale. Tant'è che, quando certi eccessi si impongono alle cronache, l'unico abbozzo di spiegazione che i media riescono a proporre è quello della ancestrale violenza del maschio che non riesce a tollerare le nuove libertà femminili.

Cinquant’anni di disperazione, dunque. Altro che “conquista di civiltà”, come invece ebbe a dire ancora nel 2017 la parlamentare Alessia Morani, riguardo alla riforma del divorzio breve della quale era stata relatrice. Eppure, il giudizio corrente che abbiamo visto passare sui media, in questi giorni di ricorrenza del cinquantennale, ha continuato a essere tra il celebrativo e il trionfalistico. Ancora non si riesce a porre la questione della crisi del matrimonio nei termini di una vera emergenza sociale, e nemmeno si riesce ad avviare un serio dibattito sul significato che, ancora oggi, potrebbe avere l’istituzione nuziale.

E allora, che fare? Da parte mia – forte della mia ulteriore esperienza di avvocato – sto continuando a scrivere sul tema, non più soffermandomi sul divorzio in sé, quanto piuttosto su ciò che si potrebbe ancora fare per salvare il matrimonio. Nel 2018 è uscito un mio saggio sulla conciliazione familiare, intitolato “L’amore non si arrende”, e tra un paio di settimane uscirà un nuovo testo, intitolato al rapporto tra “Il diritto e il desiderio”, sempre per i tipi delle edizioni Ares.

Ho dovuto cambiare editore perché anche molti cattolici, oggi, sono in difficoltà nel liberarsi dalla gabbia del politicamente corretto, o per meglio dire ci si trovano a loro agio come fino a soli pochi anni fa era impensabile. Al contrario, però, per la società nel suo insieme sarebbe un bel passo avanti se cominciassimo a liberarci dei luoghi comuni sui quali si reggono le separazioni facili e le famiglie allargate. Come quello per cui i figli minori sarebbero meno pregiudicati da un divorzio rapido “tra persone civili”, piuttosto che dal crescere assieme a genitori conflittuali, o non più innamorati. Sarebbe, insomma, già un traguardo se gli operatori coinvolti – a partire dagli avvocati, ma anche i magistrati, gli psicologi e persino gli stessi mediatori familiari – si informassero di più sulle reali dinamiche delle crisi familiari, e alle persone interessate ogni tanto sapessero dire la verità. E magari anche qualche no.

MASSIMILIANO FIORIN

[libromundoes]

Dándole al diablo lo que le corresponde por Michael Shermer una defensa de la libertad de expresión | Libros

Toma un libro, cualquier libro. ¿Está dedicado a "mis amigos Christopher Hitchens y Steven Pinker, campeones de la libertad sin igual"? ¿Tiene bocanadas de tapadera de Jordan Peterson y Pinker? ¿Los títulos de los capítulos se refieren a muchos hombres alfa e "intelectuales controvertidos" (Richard Dawkins, David Hume, David Irving, Hitchens y Peterson) pero no a una sola mujer?

¿El texto está lleno de recuerdos de beber con Hitch et al en el circuito de la conferencia mundial? Ahora obtendrá un fuerte olor a almizcle distintivo lleno de testosterona. Sí, te has metido en la casa de esta celebridad valiente y confiada: el narrador de la verdad viejo, rabioso, blanco, masculino y "científico". Él está allí para cortarte tonterías, te guste o no.

Este espécimen en particular, Michael Shermer, es autor de muchos trabajos anteriores, incluidos El arco moral: cómo la ciencia y la razón llevan a la humanidad a la verdad, la justicia y la libertad (2015), y lo más divertido ¿Por qué la gente cree cosas extrañas? (1997) Un ex ciclista evangélico cristiano, libertario y profesional convertido en historiador, es mejor conocido como un entusiasta y ateo desacreditador de la pseudociencia.

Su último volumen es una colección de casi 30 "reflexiones" publicadas en los últimos 15 años, reempaquetadas y organizadas en torno a cinco temas: libertad de expresión, religión, política, "humanismo científico" y ejemplos de "pensadores trascendentes". " Lo más probable es que su opinión sobre el libro dependa de su inclinación por las fotos periodísticas rápidas y súper breves sobre temas importantes y complejos. Leerlo es un poco como estar atrapado junto a un tipo bien intencionado pero inteligente en un vuelo transatlántico (seguro, aburrido, después del coronavirus): es poco probable que aprendas algo muy profundo, y probablemente no querrás mantenerte en contacto, pero si estás de humor, pasa tiempo teniendo a un extraño hablador que explica el significado del cosmos, el genio de los padres fundadores y cómo surgió. Se deshace de su amado .357 Magnum durante un desafortunado período de conflicto matrimonial. (O simplemente puede darse la vuelta, insertar sus tapones para los oídos y atracones de películas gratis).

El proyecto de Shermer es abrir nuestros ojos a medios supuestamente racionales y científicos para analizar y dominar temas retorcidos y controvertidos, desde el control de armas en Estados Unidos, hasta los fundamentos "naturales" de prosperidad económica, hasta las perspectivas de un avance global de la civilización. Intenta ser razonable, explica pacientemente. Es bueno mantener una mente abierta y escuchar lo que otros tienen que decir. Cuidado con el sesgo de confirmación. Solo debemos aceptar o rechazar ideas "sobre la base de su nivel de evidencia".

Desafortunadamente, la brevedad de los capítulos de Shermer significa que su aplicación de estos principios impecables a menudo resulta en obviedades mundanas. Es posible que no necesite leer sus ensayos sobre Dios y la religión para apreciar que Scientology es un culto que genera dinero; que los ateos y creyentes merecen ser tratados como inteligentes y dignos de respeto; que muchos estadounidenses se definen hoy como agnósticos; o que "el universo mismo no puede tener un propósito" en el sentido antropomórfico porque, bueno, no es un ser humano.

Michael Shermer

Por supuesto, la conveniencia de una persona puede ser la revelación de otra. Los ensayos en el libro sobre violencia armada se enfrentan a presunciones estadounidenses particulares, como la noción de que las armas de fuego previenen la violencia, o que su propiedad privada constituye un baluarte esencial contra la tiranía del gobierno. Lo notable no es tanto la evidencia elemental y los argumentos que Shermer ha reunido para oponerse a tales opiniones, sino la evolución conmovedora y reciente de su propia posición. Comenzó como un apasionado libertario de las armas, y hace menos de una década, aunque reconoció el número "asombroso" de otras muertes relacionadas con armas en los Estados Unidos, desestimó Los tiroteos masivos como eventos "altamente improbables", en gran medida imposibles de evitar a menos que "votemos para cambiar nuestro gobierno a un régimen comunista al estilo chino". En 2017, sugirió que los medios de comunicación dejen de nombrar y publicitar a los asesinos en masa para evitar que se hagan famosos e inspiren a otros. Y cuanto más hablaba con los defensores de los derechos de las armas, más se daba cuenta de que sus ideas y diapositivas de PowerPoint nunca cambiarían: sus desacuerdos eran mucho más. profundo que eso.

La experiencia de pensamiento de Shermer sobre un tema poco convencional, el gobierno de cualquier futuro asentamiento humano en Marte, es más satisfactoria. Elon Musk, el ocupado y egoísta tecno-multimillonario californiano, quiere establecer una base allí lo antes posible. También cree seriamente que una comunidad de más de un millón de colonos podría y debería ser dirigida como una democracia directa. En la marcha de Musk, cualquier ley a la que se opondría el 40% de las personas quedaría automáticamente inválida, "para superar la inercia". Todas las leyes marcianas, prescribe, "deben ser breves, porque hay un engaño", y también estarían limitadas en el tiempo, "para evitar la muerte por burocracia". Todos votarían constantemente sobre cada tema y las leyes expirarían constantemente y deberían ser restablecidas: aparentemente, este es el mejor camino hacia la "libertad" personal (que es naturalmente el objetivo final de la utopía política de Almizcle).

Además de destacar los defectos inherentes a esta fantasía libertaria, Shermer busca las opiniones de científicos, escritores de ciencia ficción, entusiastas de Marte y estudiantes de diferentes tipos de comunidades relacionadas con la Tierra ". involuntario ”, como los sobrevivientes del hundimiento, para llegar a un modelo alternativo. ¿Por qué ciertos grupos de personas se unen para matarse y comerse, mientras que otros cooperan y prosperan? Las respuestas no son tan sorprendentes (le permite comenzar con una relación sexual equilibrada, concentrarse en el trabajo en equipo y evitar el racismo), pero es Sin duda es divertido considerar el motín en el Bounty como una prueba de cómo (no) colonizar otros planetas.

Una lección para los colonos … el motín del Bounty. Fotografía: Alamy

Aunque este libro se presenta como "una defensa oportuna e integral de la libertad de expresión", desafortunadamente es un área en la que no hace una contribución sustancial. El problema básico es que, como cualquier polemista disfrazado de observador imparcial, Shermer parte de tantas premisas cuestionables que plantea muchas más preguntas de las que responde. Toda comunicación humana requiere reglas, simplemente para ser inteligible. Y es al menos defendible que la libertad de debatir cualquier tema, por controvertido que sea, puede coexistir legítimamente o incluso depender de las reglas de civilidad o evidencia. Pero este es un enfoque demasiado matizado para Shermer; o tal vez siente la "política de identidad" y el "dogma de la extrema izquierda en los campus universitarios" que se encuentran entre sus bestias.

En cambio, parte de la brutal (aunque convencionalmente estadounidense) presunción de que las leyes y estándares comunicativos todavía perciben "tiranía" y "dictadura", y cita con aprobación la afirmación de que el negador del Holocausto el holocausto "debe darse adicional protección porque lo que tenía que decir debe haber tomado un poco de esfuerzo ". En esta visión abstracta y deshumanizada del habla, las palabras no lastiman a nadie. Se supone que toda regulación es "censura", "silencio" e inherentemente contradictoria, porque, curiosamente, uno de sus "mandamientos" de libertad de expresión es que todos los "argumentos a favor de la censura y en contra Se niega la libertad de expresión en el momento en que habla el orador; de lo contrario, no seríamos conscientes de sus argumentos si fueran censurados. Irónicamente, dado su compromiso con el pensamiento claro y la iconoclasia intrépida, Dale al diablo lo que le corresponde es más descuidado y perezosamente convencional en el tema de la libertad de expresión.

Durante muchos años, según lo informado por el Washington Post y otros medios de buena reputación, las mujeres se han manifestado en contra del acoso sexual y la agresión sexual de Shermer. Nunca ha sido acusado de ningún delito y niega esta acusación. Recientemente, algunos de sus compromisos públicos han sido cancelados como resultado. Hace unos meses, Scientific American interrumpió su columna de larga data para la revista. Quizás todo esto ayude a aclarar por qué, aunque Dale al diablo lo que le corresponde es una obra profundamente estadounidense, no es (a diferencia de todos sus libros anteriores) publicada por una firma estadounidense, sino solo por Cambridge, aunque ciertamente no explica por qué esta reputada institución académica , la editorial más antigua del mundo, quería hacerlo. En cualquier caso, como Shermer mismo sin duda estaría de acuerdo, incluso si las personas objetables y confusas tienen una plataforma para hablar, nadie está obligado a escucharlas.

• Fara Dabhoiwala escribe una historia mundial de libertad de expresión. Giving the Devil His Due es publicado por Cambridge (PVP £ 19.99). Para pedir una copia, visite guardianbookshop.com. Reino Unido p & p gratis en todos los pedidos en línea de más de £ 15.

The post Dándole al diablo lo que le corresponde por Michael Shermer una defensa de la libertad de expresión | Libros appeared first on Libro Mundo.

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[biointernet]

467 Young Father Time

“Man…who lives in three places – in the past, in the present, and in the future – can be unhappy if one of these three is worthless. Religion has even added a fourth – eternity.”  ― Georg Christoph Lichtenberg “Man is the result of slow growth; that is why he occupies the position he does in animal life. What does a pup amount to that has gained its growth in a few days or weeks, beside a man who only attains it in as many years.”  ― Alexander Graham Bell Come here, cat. You wouldn't want to destroy the space-time continuum, would you? Meow. Meow. CONNIE WILLIS, To Say Nothing of the Dog

Young Father Time #467

Rare vintage New year photo - postcard B/W Young Father Time

Personification of Time

Father Time, Kronos, Cronus, Cronos, Saturn Father Time – Time personified as an old bearded man, usually carrying a scythe and an hourglass Dynamic Vision Board Meta Model by Adam Pierce https://www.myhourglasscollection.com/547-colored-father-time-and-family/ MHC virtual museum father time symbol is hourglass Father Time and Mother Nature Children consume and fracture our lives. Children drag us towards disaster, it's unavoidable. When you see those laughing couples casting off into the sea of matrimony, you say to yourself, they have no idea, poor things, they just have no idea, they're happy. No one tells you anything when you start out. I have an old school pal who's just about to have a child with his new girlfriend. I said to him, "A child, at your age, are you insane?" The ten or dozen good years left to us before we get cancer or a stroke, and you're going to bugger yourself up with some brat? YASMINA REZA, The God of Carnage Children are the boldest philosophers. They enter life naked, not covered by the smallest fig leaf of dogma, absolutes, creeds. This is why every question they ask is so absurdly naïve and so frighteningly complex. YEVGENY ZAMYATIN, On Literature Read the full article

[pamphletstoinspire]

Queenship of the Blessed Virgin Mary - Feast Day: August 22nd - Ordinary Time

Feast of Queenship

Queenship of Mary is a Marian feast day in the liturgical calendar of the Roman Catholic Church, created by Pope Pius XII. On 11 October 1954, the Pontiff pronounced the new feast in his encyclical Ad caeli reginam. The feast was celebrated on May 31, the last day of the Marian month. In 1969, Pope Paul VI moved the feast day to August 22.

The movement to officially recognize the Queenship of Mary was initially promoted by several Catholic Mariological congresses in Lyon France, Freiburg Germany, and Einsiedeln Switzerland. Gabriel Roschini founded in Rome, Italy, an international society to promote the Queenship of Mary, Pro Regalitate Mariae. Several Popes had described Mary as Queen and Queen of Heaven, which was documented by Gabriel Roschini. Pope Pius XII repeated the title in numerous encyclicals and Apostolic Letters, especially during World War II.

Veneration

The Catholic faith states as a dogma, that Mary is assumed into heaven, and is with Jesus Christ, her Divine Son. Mary should be called Queen, not only because of her Divine Motherhood of Jesus Christ, but also because God has willed her to have an exceptional role in the work of eternal salvation. The encyclical Ad Caeli Reginam argues, that Christ as redeemer is Lord and King. The Blessed Virgin is Queen, because of her unique manner in which she assisted in our redemption, by giving of her own substance, by freely offering Him for us, by her singular desire and petition for, and active interest.

Mary was chosen Mother of Christ so she might become a partner in the redemption of the human race; The Catholic Church always venerated the queen of Heaven, according to Pius XII, as From the earliest ages of the Catholic Church a Christian People, whether in time of triumph or more especially In time of crisis, has addressed prayers of petition and Hymns of praise and veneration to the Queen of Heaven and never has that hope wavered which they placed in the Mother of the Divine King, Jesus Christ; nor has that faith ever failed by which we are taught that Mary, the Virgin Mother of God, reigns with a mother’s solicitude over the entire world, just as she is crowned in heavenly blessedness with the glory of a Queen.

The Blessed Virgin has not only received the grade of excellence and perfection which is supreme after that of Christ Himself but has also received some sharing of the efficacy by which her Son and our Redeemer is rightly and properly said to reign over the minds and wills of men. For if the word of God performs miracles and gives graces through the humanity He has assumed, if He employs the sacraments and His saints as instruments for the salvation of souls, why should He not use His mother’s office and efforts to bring us the fruits of the Redemption?

We may transmit the comparison between Mary’s intercessory power and that of other saints. Certainly if they can pray in our behalf and obtain favors we should not otherwise receive, how much more the Queen of Saints and the Mother of the Author of grace. The remarkable thing is to associate the Blessed Virgin’s share in our Redemption with the humanity of her divine Son and to compare its efficacy with the function of the sacramental system. Both analogies are penetrating concepts.

By relating Mary’s role of mediatrix to the human nature of Christ, the Pope wished to emphasize what even Catholics are liable to forget, that while God can perform by His own power all that is effected by created natures, yet in the counsels of His providence He has preferred to help men by the instrumentality of other men - whose efficacy for sanctifying others depends on their proximity to the human nature assumed by the Son of God. Viewed in this light, the potentiality of the Blessed Virgin as an instrument of grace takes on staggering proportion. As the woman whose consent made the Incarnation possible, who carried in her womb and brought into the world the word made flesh, and whose association with Christ during His life and sympathy in death were the most intimate conceivable - her efficacy at the throne of God must be, without fear of exaggeration, “almost immeasurable in power.

If we compare Mary’s mediation with the sacraments of the New Law, we gain a further insight into there place in the economy of salvation. We know that on the level of sanctification nothing is more internal than heavenly grace which begets holiness; and yet the ordinary and chief means of obtaining grace are external, in the form of sacraments administered by men specially chosen for that purpose and by means of external rites. In baptism there is pouring of water; in confirmation and extreme unction, anointing with oil; in orders, the imposition of hands; in matrimony, the expressed acceptance by the two spouses; and in penance, the vocal and visible absolution by the priest. All these actions are external and their agents are all human , but conditioned on their performance in the spirit of faith, such transcendent changes occur in the spiritual world as the removal of a lifetime of sin by a sign of the cross and the conversion of a piece of bread into the Body of Christ.

The more clearly we see how the Blessed Virgin shares in this type of sacramental efficiency, the less scandalized we shall be to say that “as God is the Father and Lord of the universe, preparing all by His power, so the Blessed Mary, repairing all things by her merits, is the ruler and mother of all.” While remaining subordinate to her Son as a creature to her Creator, she was instituted by Him on the cross as the great sacrament of His mercy and the visible sign of internal grace which He promised to those who, like Pius XII, “approach with confidence to the throne of our Queen and Mother to beg help in difficulty, light in darkness, and solace in trouble and sorrow.”

*

Queen of Heaven In Art

Artworks, including paintings, mosaics and carvings of the coronation of Mary as Queen of Heaven, became increasingly popular from the 13th century onward. Works follow a set pattern, showing Mary kneeling in the heavenly court, and being crowned either by Jesus alone, or else by Jesus and God the Father together, with the Holy Spirit, usually in the form of a dove, completing the Trinity. The Coronation of Mary is almost entirely a theme of western art. In the Eastern Orthodox Church, although Mary is often shown wearing the crown, the coronation itself never became an accepted artistic subject.

[libidomechanica]

But in one

But in one? But your best,                    yet involved a billows rout: and Priests in babbled the same hue, too awful wail such some malignant disease, viewing there. YE dayntye Nymph of all these were was not unknown and all readers prescience rather, — not miss angry Gods pursued at you wept.   Rough bold warrior came to move,

  canonized her. You like a beacon, bare in the current of your countrys a thing maid. The bowl I offers answered, as no tutor   (I wish to be great sorow to business in for popularity, which are but its Salt,) and gives the landlords blacker thanks for rays of matrimonys list aduised be,                   with otherwise with Heydeguyes, and love.

There he keeps me hostage for every Christian dogma rather knew    as the first her faults I death. Why call me which i have accuse your light, and mean no harm.

[italianaradio]

Il 2020 potrebbe essere l'anno in cui tornano di moda i cappelli 

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Il 2020 potrebbe essere l'anno in cui tornano di moda i cappelli 

Il 2020 potrebbe essere l’anno in cui tornano di moda i cappelli 

“Un cappello è essenziale per completare l’outfit. E’ il miglior modo per esprimere la tua personalità”. Lo scriveva Christian Dior nel 1954  e a sessantasei anni di distanza il dogma modaiolo vergato nel suo “The little dictionary of fashion” continua ad essere inattaccabile. Lo dicono i dati finanziari, con le aziende italiane dei cappelli immuni dalla crisi (fatturato stabile a 161 milioni nei primi nove mesi del 2019, importazioni e soprattutto esportazioni in crescita) e lo suggeriscono anche certe immagini scolpite nell’anno che ci siamo lasciati alle spalle: da un Brad Pitt da urlo sormontato da coppola al Festival di Venezia a Giorgia Meloni che si è eccezionalmente piegata al rosso per il berretto di lana della foto capodannesca su Instagram, passando per il sindaco di Milano Beppe Sala con il cappellino da Babbo Natale negli auguri in stile giocatore di curling, il berretto rosa shocking con cui Chiara Ferragni ha chiuso l’anno a Madonna di Campiglio e il fiabesco cappello di Pinocchio riproposto da Matteo Garrone al cinema. Senza dimenticare i“must have” dell’estate 2019, i cappelli di paglia-tormentone proposti sotto l’ombrellone da vere e sedicenti influencer.

Quel che è certo è che accessoriarsi la testa, anche se non ai livelli della Regina Elisabetta, secondo leggenda dotata di cinquemila cappelli, sarà un inevitabile must del 2020 e le proposte sono parecchie, per maschi e femmine, come il  “bucket hat” di Dior, il cappello da pioggia rivisitato (in vernice, tartan e perfino con la veletta) e il cappello musicale per tecnodipendenti ideato da Hanpure: un berretto di lana accessoriato di bluetooth e microfoni con tasti per il volume pausa sui lati. Per capire come va il mercato e non commettere fatali errori, AGI si è rivolta ad Andrea Troncarelli,  titolare dell’omonima storica cappelleria romana che dal 1857 in via della Cuccagna, all’ingresso di piazza Navona, ha messo cappelli in testa ad Al Gore, Silvio Berlusconi, Mick Jagger e più recentemente Jude Law, tra poco nel New Pope di Paolo Sorrentino, alla nuova Eva Kant dei Manetti Bros Miriam Leone e a Milly Carlucci, appassionata di baschi.

Quali sono i cappelli maschili di tendenza per il 2020?

Ci sarà un grande ritorno agli anni Quaranta, con i cappelli di feltro a falda larga e nastro alto, stile Borsalino. Un discorso a parte va fatto invece per i giovani, che a parte l’immarcescibile zuccotto di lana, si stanno avvicinando ad altri modelli di tendenza, unisex, sempre stile vintage.

Quali?

Su tutti la coppola spinta sul mercato dalla serie tv “Peaky Blinders”, ambientata dopo la prima guerra mondiale a Birmingham, protagonista una gang, i “Peaky Bliders” appunto che nasconde una lametta nel risvolto della coppola. E’ un cappello richiesto da ragazzi e ragazze, come quello da pescatore appena rilanciato da Dior in vari tessuti.

Le signore che non giocano a fare le ragazzine cosa metteranno in testa, invece?

“La cloche di tessuto, stile Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’, con il nastro tinta su tinta. Il colore femminile imperate è il rosso ciliegia, per gli uomini vanno come sempre il nero e il marrone ma ci sarà anche una riscoperta del beige.

A proposito di cinema, quale cappello e quale relativo attore l’hanno colpita nel 2019?

Il “Borsalino” di Edward Norton in “Motherless Brooklyn”.

Ma quanto si deve spendere per assicurasi un cappello pregiato?

“Dai 70 euro circa della coppola ai 300 del Borsalino”.

Passiamo al galateo, secondo il bon ton quando si deve mettere il cappello e quando invece bisogna toglierlo?

“Gli uomini devono togliere il cappello quando entrano nei luoghi chiusi, dalle chiese ai ristoranti e dovrebbero alzarlo, un tempo si usava così, quando incontrano una donna camminando all’aperto. Le donne invece possono tenerlo anche nei luoghi chiusi, sono obbligate a toglierlo solo quando si siedono a tavola e al cinema. Nei matrimoni invece si tiene sulla testa anche durante il ricevimento”.

“Un cappello è essenziale per completare l’outfit. E’ il miglior modo per esprimere la tua personalità”. Lo scriveva Christian Dior nel 1954  e a sessantasei anni di distanza il dogma modaiolo vergato nel suo “The little dictionary of fashion” continua ad essere inattaccabile. Lo dicono i dati finanziari, con le aziende italiane dei cappelli immuni dalla crisi (fatturato stabile a 161 milioni nei primi nove mesi del 2019, importazioni e soprattutto esportazioni in crescita) e lo suggeriscono anche certe immagini scolpite nell’anno che ci siamo lasciati alle spalle: da un Brad Pitt da urlo sormontato da coppola al Festival di Venezia a Giorgia Meloni che si è eccezionalmente piegata al rosso per il berretto di lana della foto capodannesca su Instagram, passando per il sindaco di Milano Beppe Sala con il cappellino da Babbo Natale negli auguri in stile giocatore di curling, il berretto rosa shocking con cui Chiara Ferragni ha chiuso l’anno a Madonna di Campiglio e il fiabesco cappello di Pinocchio riproposto da Matteo Garrone al cinema. Senza dimenticare i“must have” dell’estate 2019, i cappelli di paglia-tormentone proposti sotto l’ombrellone da vere e sedicenti influencer.

Quel che è certo è che accessoriarsi la testa, anche se non ai livelli della Regina Elisabetta, secondo leggenda dotata di cinquemila cappelli, sarà un inevitabile must del 2020 e le proposte sono parecchie, per maschi e femmine, come il  “bucket hat” di Dior, il cappello da pioggia rivisitato (in vernice, tartan e perfino con la veletta) e il cappello musicale per tecnodipendenti ideato da Hanpure: un berretto di lana accessoriato di bluetooth e microfoni con tasti per il volume pausa sui lati. Per capire come va il mercato e non commettere fatali errori, AGI si è rivolta ad Andrea Troncarelli,  titolare dell’omonima storica cappelleria romana che dal 1857 in via della Cuccagna, all’ingresso di piazza Navona, ha messo cappelli in testa ad Al Gore, Silvio Berlusconi, Mick Jagger e più recentemente Jude Law, tra poco nel New Pope di Paolo Sorrentino, alla nuova Eva Kant dei Manetti Bros Miriam Leone e a Milly Carlucci, appassionata di baschi.

Quali sono i cappelli maschili di tendenza per il 2020?

Ci sarà un grande ritorno agli anni Quaranta, con i cappelli di feltro a falda larga e nastro alto, stile Borsalino. Un discorso a parte va fatto invece per i giovani, che a parte l’immarcescibile zuccotto di lana, si stanno avvicinando ad altri modelli di tendenza, unisex, sempre stile vintage.

Quali?

Su tutti la coppola spinta sul mercato dalla serie tv “Peaky Blinders”, ambientata dopo la prima guerra mondiale a Birmingham, protagonista una gang, i “Peaky Bliders” appunto che nasconde una lametta nel risvolto della coppola. E’ un cappello richiesto da ragazzi e ragazze, come quello da pescatore appena rilanciato da Dior in vari tessuti.

Le signore che non giocano a fare le ragazzine cosa metteranno in testa, invece?

“La cloche di tessuto, stile Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’, con il nastro tinta su tinta. Il colore femminile imperate è il rosso ciliegia, per gli uomini vanno come sempre il nero e il marrone ma ci sarà anche una riscoperta del beige.

A proposito di cinema, quale cappello e quale relativo attore l’hanno colpita nel 2019?

Il “Borsalino” di Edward Norton in “Motherless Brooklyn”.

Ma quanto si deve spendere per assicurasi un cappello pregiato?

“Dai 70 euro circa della coppola ai 300 del Borsalino”.

Passiamo al galateo, secondo il bon ton quando si deve mettere il cappello e quando invece bisogna toglierlo?

“Gli uomini devono togliere il cappello quando entrano nei luoghi chiusi, dalle chiese ai ristoranti e dovrebbero alzarlo, un tempo si usava così, quando incontrano una donna camminando all’aperto. Le donne invece possono tenerlo anche nei luoghi chiusi, sono obbligate a toglierlo solo quando si siedono a tavola e al cinema. Nei matrimoni invece si tiene sulla testa anche durante il ricevimento”.

antonella piperno