Mary with child, Saint Rose (?) and Catherine (?), Pietro Perugino, 1493-95
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from United States

seen from Japan
seen from Vietnam
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Vietnam

seen from United States
seen from Egypt

seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from Kyrgyzstan
seen from United States

seen from Brazil

seen from United States
Mary with child, Saint Rose (?) and Catherine (?), Pietro Perugino, 1493-95
Saint Rose Tempted by the Devil, by Cristóbal de Villalpando, c. 1695-1697.
The Saint of the day for August 30 is Saint Rose of Lima, Virgin (1586-1617) This lovely flower of sanctity, the first canonized Saint of the New World, was born at Lima, Peru, in 1586. She was christened Isabel, but the beauty of her infant face earned for her the title of Rose, which she thereafter bore. As a child still in the cradle, her silence during a painful surgical operation seemed to foretell the thirst for suffering which would consume her heart. At an early age she engaged herself as a servant to support her impoverished parents, then worked day and night. In spite of hardships and austerities her beauty ripened with increasing age, and she was openly much admired. Fearing vanity would enter her heart, she cut off her hair, blistered her face with pepper and her hands with lime. She never left the interior of her parents' house in Canta, for four years, not even to walk in an inviting garden just beyond its walls. She finally obtained her parents' permission to be enrolled in the Third Order of Saint Dominic; from her childhood she had taken Saint Catherine of Siena as her model, and she then redoubled her penance. The Blessed Sacrament seemed virtually her only food. Her love for it was intense. Her fasting was near miraculous; during Lent in particular, she denied herself her former single piece of bread each day, to consume only a few orange seeds. Her disciplines were of an almost incredible severity, and her hair shirt reached from her shoulders to her wrists and knees; not satisfied with its rudeness, she armed it with iron nails. The cell of Saint Rose was a garden hut, her couch a box of broken tiles. Concealed by her veil, a silver crown armed with ninety sharp points encircled her head. More than once, when she shuddered at the prospect of a night of torture, a voice said, My cross was yet more painful. The demon tormented her for fifteen years with insupportable temptations; but God sustained His spouse against them, though she would gladly have died rather than live any longer in their clutches. When a Dutch fleet prepared to attack the city of Lima, Rose took her place before the tabernacle, and wept because she felt unworthy to die in its defense, as she hoped she might; the enemy weighed anchor soon afterwards and departed without attempting a siege. All of Saint Rose's sufferings were offered for the conversion of sinners, and the thought of the multitudes in hell was ever before her soul. She died in 1617, at the age of thirty-one. Reflection: Rose, pure as driven snow, was filled with deepest contrition and humility, and did constant and terrible penance. Our sins are continual, our repentance passing, our contrition slight, our penance nothing. How will it fare with us?
Baywatch Vibes by Nyanza D x Saint Rose
Website // Shop // Tumblr // Instagram
© Monchi 2017
Boccaccio Boccaccino - The Marriage of Saint Catherine. 1505
So, I graduated from the college I fell in love with back in 2009 at my high school’s college fair. This was the school that pushed me through my high school years because something in my heart told me this was the place I had to be. I spent four years planning and preparing myself for these four years spent and damn did a lot happen.
I look back at these, to be frankly honest, 8 years of dedication to Saint Rose with a good deal of heartbreak, happiness, and a hell of a lot of personal challenges. This tumblr has been a time capsule for me since 2009, so excuse this long reflective post. I want this saved somewhere because I find my story important for the first time in a long time.
I entered Saint Rose after experiencing a physically, emotionally, and psychologically abusive relationship that wore down my self-worth significantly but was still determined to not let that experience dampen my future. I promised myself to love both myself and also this institution because I knew this was a privilege many others did not have. If I didn’t cherish every moment spent at Saint Rose, I was doing both myself and the community at large a disservice.
My first year here, my parents started a 2-year long divorce which affected my studies, mental health, and finances. My tuition money was used as a way for me to intervene and help their marriage even when I was at school. I would receive phone calls not asking how I am, but blaming me for not being around enough to secure their marriage. I was threatened day in and day out but still managed to make it through that year. Although I had friends who mocked me for my inability to pay for anything and used that against me, I was able to beg financial aid anyways to give me more aid. After a 6 month battle with my parents and finaid, I was able to come back and make my schedule 2 weeks before sophomore year.
My sophomore year, my father fell ill and had his leg amputated because he had a flesh eating virus. Since my parents were now divorced, I was the only person who could legally make his health decisions. I would come back and forth from hospital visits in Long Island to my classes in Albany. I remember the times I would be in class and would step out to talk to surgeons, making these decisions that could be life or death for my father took a toll on me.
It woke me up to the fragility of life and also how much we don’t tell others we love them enough. This experience of being my father’s caretaker in his last moments on earth taught me forgiveness. We always get too caught up in our feelings to realize that we may let go of others too easily or under trivial circumstances. In the grand scheme, the moments we have loved a person outweigh how we may have been hurt by them. Obviously, this sentiment can be wrong for different circumstances but with my dad, it was relevant to learn. That year I made the decision to take my father off life support because his infection spread to his entire body and was eating him alive. I organized his funeral, picked his casket, and said goodbye to the person who taught me, unconditional love.
Despite all this, I made it through the sophomore year with a decent GPA, managed a club, and still was on top of all of my other campus leadership activities.
In my junior year, my institution’s administration decided to cut the importance of the arts and humanities, liberal education, and fire 23 tenure professors and 28 programs. This year has been well documented but I spent this year organizing community forums (one of the first in Saint Rose history between faculty, students, and administrators), petitions, have been interviewed by all the local newspapers and stations, organized rallies, protests, and demonstrations networked with other student unions, and was a crucial component of some different investigations. This year taught me the value of being driven by your passion for something that you love. It taught me how unconditional love, empathy, and compassion can go a longer way in leadership positions. I can talk about this more, but this year was transformative for me in so many ways. It brought me close to a group of people that I cherish, and although we aren’t always in the same location, when we come together it’s as if we never left each other’s side.
Finally, this year, damn. I took on another leadership role, organized English Club events, forums for Identity, organized one protest, joined two honor societies, created a website, got a job in my field at the moment, was accepted into a government internship, attending campaign trainings, accepted into a Law program, working on another application to a dream program, accepted into a well-known political website, and probably more but I lost track in this long ass run on sentence. This year was packed with experiences that seem disconnected but worked together seamlessly.
Therefore, when I look back on these years, I know in my heart this was it for my journey at Saint Rose. I will miss the trees on campus and the certainty of seeing some familiar faces every day but this chapter is very closed to me. If I want to remain friends with people from college, it’s very simple to shoot a text and make plans in advance. It takes an effort to maintain these bonds now and so does every friendship. This is a time to move on from these comforts and embrace the somewhat unknown that is riddled with endless possibility. It’s scary and yes, it is filled with some debt–but I will get through.
As I signed my first lease with a really important friend pictured above, accepted a job with students I love, and starting this new chapter–I know things will be okay in the end. Heck, it’ll be better than okay–this is the beginning of every other day of this beautiful life. I know I have more heartbreak, more tears to shed, and more lessons to learn but up until this point, I know I can always handle it. I know I have more love to give and more people to care for and more coffee dates and trees to admire. This life right now is worth living and I will no longer feel like I am not worthy of every good thing to come my way. No one determines my worth for me, that’s my job.
So, this post is a promise to me to keep treading forward and know you are very important. You graduated. You did it. Relish that and the rest will fall into place.
Update: After rereading my post, I deleted some parts that were a little too explicit. I apologize if this has hurt anyone. I just had to put this somewhere and maybe it was better left in my head. Personal truth is objective, person to person and how they experienced it. Each version is valid and work towards the whole picture from every angle. Obviously, this is only my perspective and it's just as valid as every other.
Saint Rose Tempted by the Devil, by Cristóbal de Villalpando, c.1695-1697.
Salen esos mates chicos?