Whine Time

Sorry for the complete absence of my genius. Too busy being morose and discouraged about my knee, which collided with our dog's stupid, cinder block head a few weeks ago. It is getting better, but it is slow going. I can't run, and I miss that. I really do love running. In the meantime I am on my sister in law's elliptical, which is a great, perhaps superior workout. But it doesn't feel like running.

Also reading the pope's 'Deus Caritas Est' and will comment more on that anon. Actually, I will probably not comment on it, because I am too stupid to do so. Instead I might excerpt lengthy passages therein.

Hot Hot Hot

This is turning out to be our fifth hottest summer on record. It was 42 C/107 F yesterday. The record was in 1936, when it actually hit 47/112. Ugh!

On Wednesday I took Toby for a quick stroll at 7 pm. I definitely should have waited an hour--it was like opening the door of oven that has been on all day. It was hard to even breathe. And, with not a cloud in the sky, the sun is blinding.

I had a nice serendipity yesterday. First, I have to give the background. We visited my grandmother over the weekend. On her nightstand she has a book that her Sunday school group (she is Church Of Christ) used recently, called The Journey To Desire. It is really pretty good, explaining that desire itself is from God, but that too often we either ignore good desires or else supress them, thinking anything so strong must be bad. As a result a lot of people succumb to bad desires instead, like pornography and food, etc.

The book's main point (I think--haven't read it all) is that we must be honest with ourselves and discover what our desires actually are and how they can help us find God, since He is our greatest desire, whether we are conscious of this fact or not. It also points out that some of these desires and longings will only be met in heaven.

ANYWAY: I was at the bookstore last night planning to buy this book. I couldn't find it at first, and in the meantime my eye was caught by a whole shelf of Henri Nouwen books. I've heard of him, and people have recommended him to me, but I must have confused him with another writer, as I've never been interested in him. I picked up one of his books, called Here And Now, and it really speaks to me and my state of life. He has the most reassuring tone and seems full of common sense, but in a spiritual/supernatural way.

I liked it so much that I found another of his books, one that has meditations for the whole liturgical year, on Amazon and I've already ordered it. It is so refreshing to have some spiritual writing that has depth, is thought-provoking and isn't sappy or sentimental or overly pious.

One of the themes he seems to return to over and again is the human preoccupation with 'oughts and ifs' and why we find it so difficult to actually live in the present moment. This is certainly always a challenge for me!

I Know You Are, But What Am I?

Here's the link to that highly accurate personality quiz:


http://www.blogthings.com/threequestionpersonalitytest/

Rational? Really?

Your Personality Is

Rational (NT) You are both logical and creative. You are full of ideas.You are so rational that you analyze everything. This drives people a little crazy! Intelligence is important to you. You always like to be around smart people.In fact, you're often a little short with people who don't impress you mentally. You seem distant to some - but it's usually because you're deep in thought.Those who understand you best are fellow Rationals. In love, you tend to approach things with logic. You seek a compatible mate - who is also very intelligent. At work, you tend to gravitate toward idea building careers - like programming, medicine, or academia. With others, you are very honest and direct. People often can't take your criticism well. As far as your looks go, you're coasting on what you were born with. You think fashion is silly. On weekends, you spend most of your time thinking, experimenting with new ideas, or learning new things.

Don't Look Back

Can anyone tell me why the wife of Lot is turned into a pillar of salt? I've been reading this passage, and it is interesting how hesitant Lot is in the first place. When the angels exhort him to get moving, it says, 'but he lingered.' His attitude seems to be one of lukewarmness or comfort (and the love of it) or complacency.

But is his wife destroyed simply because of her disobedience? This is what Patrick thinks, but that doesn't seem to fit the rest of the passage, when they get several chances to save themselves. Is it the horror of what she sees, or that she is too attached to what she's leaving (which is why she looks back) and so is destroyed by her own lingering? I can't figure it out, although I suppose attachment is a universal stumbling block and probably ruins lots of souls, or else stunts their growth.

Disappointment

I have just given up on North and South, by Elizabeth Gaskell. It's not that there was nothing of value in it. There was - I just couldn't shake my dislike for serials smushed together to make a book, and I couldn't bear any more descriptions of Margaret's noble beauty, dignified beauty, queenly beauty, quivering tremulous beauty, and so on and so forth. And poor Bessy - the girl had had a horrible life, and was clearly dying in a slow and dreadful way, but all I wanted to do was slap her, and tell her that hoo's not a bonny angel sent to hush the clemming.

This is what happens when you've read the greatest novel ever written, I suppose. Female solidarity alone can no longer enable me to enjoy a woman's book.

When There's No One Left To Talk To...

Our newspaper had a wonderful article yesterday, about a Creek-Indian woman's 106th birthday. Mrs. Berryhill is her name, and at her birthday party she sat patiently slumped in a chair, taking in the many accolades and well wishes from friends and family. The article pointed out that no doubt she'd heard the exact same things on her 100th, 101st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th. But then a woman addressed her in the Creek language, and Mrs. Berryhill sprang to life, and motioned to the woman to translate for her as she told stories about her parents and her upbringing and early days.

She is one of two remaining original allottees, given 100 acres when she was 18 months old, in 1901. That just boggles my mind thinking about.

They also gave her a traditional tea, made from corn and honey (doesn't that sound way too sweet?), which also set her reminiscing. It was a fascinating vignette. It makes me wonder what goes on inside the minds of elderly people who, for whatever reason, no longer speak. Have they just given up because no one from their own days is left? That often seems to be the case with Patrick's grandmother--she has no remaining contemporaries, and can't trade memories with old friends. Interesting to consider.

NOT Archival Quality

Funny how marketable the term 'archival quality' has become. Even dime store notepads will boast that they are made of 'neutral ph, non-yellowing' papers. We seem to want things to last, even things that aren't worth the acid/lignin free, quality surface to which they've been entrusted.

Which matters more: the essay/poem/story/letter, or ourselves? Which are we trying to save? I tend to think it is only ourselves we are attempting to preserve with these tools for permanence.

So much of what we say or think or write does not matter--the more of it we create and preserve, the less space and silence we are left with, making it difficult to create other, new things which might actually mean more.

Of course, here I am blogging this very type of musing; the pot calling the kettle black.