I collect books. It's something of an occupational hazard, even though I collected books long before I started working in a library.
My books are on many subjects, and many genres. There is a special place in my heart, however, for books about books and reading, and books about language. I have MANY books about grammar, and many about words and their meanings and origins. The many thesauri (thesauruses?) I own are a constant source of secret glee for me.
Today I will use them in an attempt to describe my feelings on these in-between days as the old year dies, and the new one waits to be born.
The first word that came to mind: ennui. My Oxford minireference dictionary defines it simply as boredom. I don't find it in my New International Webster's pocket thesaurus, but under boredom I get: apathy, doldrums, listlessness, monotony, tedium, indiffference
In Roget's most excellent Thesaurus, I get: unpleasure, weariness, languor.
In any event, whomever you ask, ennui is not a pleasant state of affairs. To me it is a personal inertia, an inability to get moving, the desire to stay at rest because nothing much seems worth bothering to do.
These last days of December often bring about that feeling.
I have been feeling lethargic and weary of spirit for awhile. I'm pretty sure a large part of the country feels the same way. The daily battle for sanity in a patently insane state of affairs is most definitely a "thing" among many Americans. Mostly, I am baffled as to how we have allowed ourselves, whatever our beliefs politically, to be so torn asunder from one another as human beings. This country has ALWAYS been about the desire of people from different backgrounds, beliefs, abilities, faiths, ethnic extractions to come together for THE COMMON GOOD. We always recognized each other as human beings, even if we disagreed. (Or at least, we TRIED. Some things in the past have proven that we were and are FAR from perfect on this score. The Civil War was about one of those disconnects between our stated ideals and our corporate behavior.) It is to be hoped that we can repair our rifts and make our corporate behavior more in line with the thought that "all are created equal", and that we should all be allowed the opportunity to pursue "life, Liberty, and happiness". When did such a pursuit become dependent upon one's political alignment and/or one's race or faith? It seems, if one reads the news these days, that it has come to be that only white, protestant, Evangelical people, particularly the males, have those rights our forefathers assigned to "all".
I acknowledge that many are fearful because of the pace of change, and that the fear they have is that all they know and treasure as "theirs" and "ours" as a country is being worn away. Not so, really, if you look at it. No one wants to take away your right to say Merry Christmas, or to worship as you choose, they just want you to realize that some other people don't happen to celebrate Christmas. That's all. There is room at this table for all of us, and there is plenty for all to share. It will not cause you to have less. If you are a Christian, you should know that whatever you share with others ends up coming back to you ten times over. Lay up your treasures in Heaven, where none can steal. (But that's another lecture.)
The other thing, though, that pops up as the new year approaches is Hope. Can't squash it, no matter how hard you try, Hope keeps on popping up, and lighting that candle in the dark for us to follow.
In Roget's, under Hope, I get: desire, wish, aspiration, sanguine expectation, belief, possibility, recourse.
In the Oxford, I find: feeling of expectation and desire, person or thing giving cause for this, anticipation,expectancy, expectation, ambition, dream, wish.
In Webster, I find: expect,desire, await, suppose, believe, anticipate, trust.
Many of those definitions and synonyms speak of a faithful outlook, a desire for better things on the horizon, the trust that good things are coming.
Even in the days when so much in our media feeds gives us much cause for despair and ennui, Hope still jumps up and stirs in our hearts. We still drink a toast to the New Year, and wish each other a happy one, because deep down, we hope it will be so. We have hope that things will get better, we anticipate changes and improvements, we dream of unity and peace, we wish for civil discourse and rational discussion of the issues facing us. We have to hang on to hope, it's about all we have.
So, as the old year turns away, and the new one trundles in, I wish you hope for the future, and peace, and goodwill, and all the things the angels sang about to those shepherds we've just been hearing so much about in church. That's what this season is supposed to be about. The realization that joy can be ours, that hope is real, that we can, indeed, love one another in spite of our differences.
May the joy of hope be yours in the coming year, and may you be given the gift to see others as human, even when you disagree with them violently, and may you learn that they are just as worthy of love as you are.
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Wednesday, November 6, 2019
Only Change Is Constant
Once again, the season has changed, and I have not posted here in quite a while.
The library system I work for has a very large new building just opened in Norman, and our community is gearing up to scope out the possibility of a new building for our branch.
Things keep changing. Old things pass away, new ones wait to be born.
From the journal:
Again golden Autumn reminds us that it is a season of change.
A season of old things passing, and new things waiting to be.
The days grow shorter,
The nights grow longer,
The air cooler
The light golden,
But growing thinner, and colder as time passes.
The leaves change color and drop,
Or they just drop
Household things need to be done in order for winter to be borne
Cracks caulked, and other damages repaired.
This week, I am on vacation from work because I need to use hours or lose them. They get unhappy with my supervisor when I lose too many hours, so I took some time.
I have spent the first two days of the week doing tedious things to keep the house more pest and weather proof. Filling too-large weep holes in the exterior walls with screen wire, so air may pass, but nothing else. Caulking around windows and door frames, so the heat and cold will stay on their appointed sides of the boundaries.
Today, I have declared a strike. I am sitting around, reading, doing small household things like running the self-cleaning cycle on the oven, and unloading the dishwasher, and hoping for the best for my voice at choir rehearsal tonight.
We have had an ongoing battle with a small furry invader for the last few weeks. I think, (knocking on wood), we have finally won. We caught what we believe to be the malefactor in a snap trap. He went to his reward quickly, and I hope without pain. I hate having to kill mice, but there is no other way in this suburban environment to deal with them. If you live trap, you have to drive them MILES away to release them, and more will always be waiting to invite themselves in, no matter how careful you are. I do not like to use poison for two reasons. 1: a neighbor's pet, or a valuable predator such as an owl or hawk may be poisoned by affected mice, and 2: They may well die somewhere in the house, and cause a whole new health (and stink) problem.
The weather today is sullen and oppressive. Mist, clouds, and heavy, turgid air. The breeze is out of the south, and warm for this time of year. It is now not quite three thirty in the afternoon, and yet, it is so dark out that a neighbor's "dawn to dusk" outdoor light has come on. (Our patio light, also light controlled, has also come on, but I couldn't see it from where I am sitting, so I got up to look.)
I have done some other small household jobs over the last two weeks, installing new blinds in the dining room and in my office. I also got some real drapes for my office, instead of the tablecloths I was using. The blinds in my office also have wider slats, and the whole thing looks so much nicer and cleaner.
This was one of my goals for the week, to get a blog post done. I also need to get a story finished, but that is going to be rather an epic battle, I fear. I know where I want it to go, but so far, it hasn't shown me how we get there. Guess I'll just have to sit here and try things until something works out.
That's all for now. May this season of change find your life changing for the better.
The library system I work for has a very large new building just opened in Norman, and our community is gearing up to scope out the possibility of a new building for our branch.
Things keep changing. Old things pass away, new ones wait to be born.
From the journal:
Again golden Autumn reminds us that it is a season of change.
A season of old things passing, and new things waiting to be.
The days grow shorter,
The nights grow longer,
The air cooler
The light golden,
But growing thinner, and colder as time passes.
The leaves change color and drop,
Or they just drop
Household things need to be done in order for winter to be borne
Cracks caulked, and other damages repaired.
This week, I am on vacation from work because I need to use hours or lose them. They get unhappy with my supervisor when I lose too many hours, so I took some time.
I have spent the first two days of the week doing tedious things to keep the house more pest and weather proof. Filling too-large weep holes in the exterior walls with screen wire, so air may pass, but nothing else. Caulking around windows and door frames, so the heat and cold will stay on their appointed sides of the boundaries.
Today, I have declared a strike. I am sitting around, reading, doing small household things like running the self-cleaning cycle on the oven, and unloading the dishwasher, and hoping for the best for my voice at choir rehearsal tonight.
We have had an ongoing battle with a small furry invader for the last few weeks. I think, (knocking on wood), we have finally won. We caught what we believe to be the malefactor in a snap trap. He went to his reward quickly, and I hope without pain. I hate having to kill mice, but there is no other way in this suburban environment to deal with them. If you live trap, you have to drive them MILES away to release them, and more will always be waiting to invite themselves in, no matter how careful you are. I do not like to use poison for two reasons. 1: a neighbor's pet, or a valuable predator such as an owl or hawk may be poisoned by affected mice, and 2: They may well die somewhere in the house, and cause a whole new health (and stink) problem.
The weather today is sullen and oppressive. Mist, clouds, and heavy, turgid air. The breeze is out of the south, and warm for this time of year. It is now not quite three thirty in the afternoon, and yet, it is so dark out that a neighbor's "dawn to dusk" outdoor light has come on. (Our patio light, also light controlled, has also come on, but I couldn't see it from where I am sitting, so I got up to look.)
I have done some other small household jobs over the last two weeks, installing new blinds in the dining room and in my office. I also got some real drapes for my office, instead of the tablecloths I was using. The blinds in my office also have wider slats, and the whole thing looks so much nicer and cleaner.
This was one of my goals for the week, to get a blog post done. I also need to get a story finished, but that is going to be rather an epic battle, I fear. I know where I want it to go, but so far, it hasn't shown me how we get there. Guess I'll just have to sit here and try things until something works out.
That's all for now. May this season of change find your life changing for the better.
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Blowing Off The Dust
It's been so long since I've posted anything in this blog, I have to dust off my old journal to figure out what to write.
Almost the entire year has passed since I posted here.
I have written; indeed, one story is finished at last, and a second is well on its way, but no real poems, no observations worth sharing here.
Life has become an endless cycle of things to do: yard work, house work, work, reading, trying to sleep, worrying about everything, trying NOT to worry about everything, trying to keep up with friends, trying to write daily in my journal, and not always being able to do that.
This year's "inspirational reading" has been A Year With Rumi Translation by Coleman Barks..
(I kid you not, the man's last name is Barks. Go figure.)
Some of the readings have inspired me to make observations, others not so much.
On January 3, I copied this one into my journal:
"I used to be shy,
You made me sing.
I used to refuse things at table,
Now I shout for more wine.
In somber dignity, I used to sit on my mat and pray,
Now children run through and make faces at me."
Could be a human love that inspired the changes, but could also be the playful Spirit of God who calls us all to dance, and play, and sing.
I do know that I an bolder both because of the love and support of my husband, and because I am older now, and more sure of who I am. The one wonderful thing age gives you is the feeling of nothing left to lose. You might as well go for it, not much time left, and who knows? You might just grab that brass ring at last.
That's why I share more of what I write. It's also why I have been brave enough to write fan fiction stories about a show I love, and share them with others who feel the same way.
I probably spend too much time on social media still, and too little time actually writing. Sometimes I post little thoughts on Twitter and see if anyone notices. Sometimes, people do.
From my January 4th entry:
Today's Rumi: "The keys that open all gates are strapped to love's chest."
That one tiny part of the passage - the part that immediately stuck out in my mind.
Love is the answer, the enabler, the source, the motive to so many, many things.
It is the answer, even when we aren't entirely sure of the question...
It surprises me sometimes how profound my off the cuff observations can seem. Sure, maybe a little hackneyed, but true nonetheless. Love can repair many damages, right many wrongs, but if allowed to go wrong, it can cause incredible amounts of damage. When love sours, it gets twisted and turned into something that it is not. The Love that we consider the Love of God is the only pure love. Humans can attain true love, but the Love we ascribe to God, loves in spite of all the odds, in spite of all the wrongs done to it, and washes us clean with its forgiveness. That is what is hardest for us humans, that forgiveness that truly obliterates the things that needed forgiving. Because part of us always remembers, and hurts, just a little.
So many, many pages of journal scribbles to read through, and no patience this night to do it. I am tired, still recovering from a dog bite. Yes, Angel got me. She broke her tie out cable, and ran up and grabbed right above my knee, because the little dogs were out and had her all riled up. She usually just stops, even when loose, and barks at me, because she's seen me daily for her entire life. When she realized what she'd done, after Donna got hold of her, she whined a little, and tried to lick my knee. She was sorry. Then she'd bark again. We think she's got a doggy version of Alzheimer's. She forgets and she's cranky. She is 13 years old, and for a dog her size, that's OLD. She didn't try to rip at me, or mess me up, she just held on, so all I really have is a hematoma and a bruise. Only one puncture worth worrying about, and it's small. Had a tetanus shot, and took antibiotics, but at least I know Angel's had all her shots. People say I'm being too nice about it, but Donna's brother was the one that got that German Shepherd off Bear all those years ago, when that dog just grabbed Bear, and all I could do was hold on so he couldn't shake him. Donna's brother smacked the Shepherd a good one and got him to let go. I cannot forget someone who helped save my Bear's life. Also, I knew Angel was cranky, and I should have been on the other side of the street. Would have given Donna more time to grab her, though she didn't know the tie out had broken.
Further reading in the journal reminds me that the weather is NEVER what we want. I was complaining in May about too much rain, and it being too cold, but now that September is almost gone, I find that it is too hot, and there isn't ENOUGH rain.
Trouble sleeping is a constant in the journal, then and now. I either can't get comfortable, or I can't shut off my brain. Usually, if I can't get comfortable, it's because the weather is in the process of changing, and my achy joints tell me all about it.
As for my mind not shutting up, well, the news is, as Pogo observed MANY years ago, still full of "Gloom, Doom, and Rumors of Boom!" I guess I shall just have to give it cursory attention, vote accordingly when the time comes, and go on about my business. It's just that the politicians are making it very difficult to really go about normal business these days. So much hatred spewed from the highest levels of our government, so little oversight, so little done about things that 30 years ago would have gotten these men sent to prison! The law has not changed, the people in power to DO something have all become cowards. The rest of us are afraid that even if we can GET a united front of the people together, those in power will still ignore us, because they are, in fact, in power.
I am ready for it to be Fall. Cool but golden days, crisp nights, with the scurry of dry leaves blowing by. I want to wear my sweaters and be comfortable, I want to drink coffee and not sweat. I want to be able to curl up cozy with a book. I want the spooky nights, the scratch of bare branches in the wind, the rattle of dead leaves on the walk, smoke in the air, candles flickering in windows or on porches, spiced cider and hot chocolate, and pot pies for dinner. I want the cozy season. I want it to be Fall.
Now that I have added up a few favorite rants, I guess it is time to end this. I hope my regular readers will be glad I'm back, and I hope I keep this up better than I have.
Almost the entire year has passed since I posted here.
I have written; indeed, one story is finished at last, and a second is well on its way, but no real poems, no observations worth sharing here.
Life has become an endless cycle of things to do: yard work, house work, work, reading, trying to sleep, worrying about everything, trying NOT to worry about everything, trying to keep up with friends, trying to write daily in my journal, and not always being able to do that.
This year's "inspirational reading" has been A Year With Rumi Translation by Coleman Barks..
(I kid you not, the man's last name is Barks. Go figure.)
Some of the readings have inspired me to make observations, others not so much.
On January 3, I copied this one into my journal:
"I used to be shy,
You made me sing.
I used to refuse things at table,
Now I shout for more wine.
In somber dignity, I used to sit on my mat and pray,
Now children run through and make faces at me."
Could be a human love that inspired the changes, but could also be the playful Spirit of God who calls us all to dance, and play, and sing.
I do know that I an bolder both because of the love and support of my husband, and because I am older now, and more sure of who I am. The one wonderful thing age gives you is the feeling of nothing left to lose. You might as well go for it, not much time left, and who knows? You might just grab that brass ring at last.
That's why I share more of what I write. It's also why I have been brave enough to write fan fiction stories about a show I love, and share them with others who feel the same way.
I probably spend too much time on social media still, and too little time actually writing. Sometimes I post little thoughts on Twitter and see if anyone notices. Sometimes, people do.
From my January 4th entry:
Today's Rumi: "The keys that open all gates are strapped to love's chest."
That one tiny part of the passage - the part that immediately stuck out in my mind.
Love is the answer, the enabler, the source, the motive to so many, many things.
It is the answer, even when we aren't entirely sure of the question...
It surprises me sometimes how profound my off the cuff observations can seem. Sure, maybe a little hackneyed, but true nonetheless. Love can repair many damages, right many wrongs, but if allowed to go wrong, it can cause incredible amounts of damage. When love sours, it gets twisted and turned into something that it is not. The Love that we consider the Love of God is the only pure love. Humans can attain true love, but the Love we ascribe to God, loves in spite of all the odds, in spite of all the wrongs done to it, and washes us clean with its forgiveness. That is what is hardest for us humans, that forgiveness that truly obliterates the things that needed forgiving. Because part of us always remembers, and hurts, just a little.
So many, many pages of journal scribbles to read through, and no patience this night to do it. I am tired, still recovering from a dog bite. Yes, Angel got me. She broke her tie out cable, and ran up and grabbed right above my knee, because the little dogs were out and had her all riled up. She usually just stops, even when loose, and barks at me, because she's seen me daily for her entire life. When she realized what she'd done, after Donna got hold of her, she whined a little, and tried to lick my knee. She was sorry. Then she'd bark again. We think she's got a doggy version of Alzheimer's. She forgets and she's cranky. She is 13 years old, and for a dog her size, that's OLD. She didn't try to rip at me, or mess me up, she just held on, so all I really have is a hematoma and a bruise. Only one puncture worth worrying about, and it's small. Had a tetanus shot, and took antibiotics, but at least I know Angel's had all her shots. People say I'm being too nice about it, but Donna's brother was the one that got that German Shepherd off Bear all those years ago, when that dog just grabbed Bear, and all I could do was hold on so he couldn't shake him. Donna's brother smacked the Shepherd a good one and got him to let go. I cannot forget someone who helped save my Bear's life. Also, I knew Angel was cranky, and I should have been on the other side of the street. Would have given Donna more time to grab her, though she didn't know the tie out had broken.
Further reading in the journal reminds me that the weather is NEVER what we want. I was complaining in May about too much rain, and it being too cold, but now that September is almost gone, I find that it is too hot, and there isn't ENOUGH rain.
Trouble sleeping is a constant in the journal, then and now. I either can't get comfortable, or I can't shut off my brain. Usually, if I can't get comfortable, it's because the weather is in the process of changing, and my achy joints tell me all about it.
As for my mind not shutting up, well, the news is, as Pogo observed MANY years ago, still full of "Gloom, Doom, and Rumors of Boom!" I guess I shall just have to give it cursory attention, vote accordingly when the time comes, and go on about my business. It's just that the politicians are making it very difficult to really go about normal business these days. So much hatred spewed from the highest levels of our government, so little oversight, so little done about things that 30 years ago would have gotten these men sent to prison! The law has not changed, the people in power to DO something have all become cowards. The rest of us are afraid that even if we can GET a united front of the people together, those in power will still ignore us, because they are, in fact, in power.
I am ready for it to be Fall. Cool but golden days, crisp nights, with the scurry of dry leaves blowing by. I want to wear my sweaters and be comfortable, I want to drink coffee and not sweat. I want to be able to curl up cozy with a book. I want the spooky nights, the scratch of bare branches in the wind, the rattle of dead leaves on the walk, smoke in the air, candles flickering in windows or on porches, spiced cider and hot chocolate, and pot pies for dinner. I want the cozy season. I want it to be Fall.
Now that I have added up a few favorite rants, I guess it is time to end this. I hope my regular readers will be glad I'm back, and I hope I keep this up better than I have.
Wednesday, January 2, 2019
Musings On A Winter Storm
Midwinter
By C. K. Armistead
1/2/19
Little icy needles
Stinging in the air
Slick,frozen danger
Hiding everywhere
Cold, ravaging beauty,
Blue,silver, and white
Makes me glad of a warm bed
On such a winter's night.
Sound carries farther
On the icy air
Aircraft and traffic
Sound more sinister
Rumbling and growling
Upon the freezing air.
All the Christmas lights
That are still aglow
Fight that frozen darkness
From eaves, and trees, and windows.
Brave reminders of the love
This season calls upon us to share.
For how else to thaw a winter night
Than to share the warmth of love?
How else to bring about the dawn
But by sharing our light?
How else bring here some of Heaven above,
But by using loving hearts to call it down?
Snow is forecast, but sleet and a little freezing rain first. Work may close early tomorrow, It's already opening late. We tend toward better safe than sorry around here, knowing that even if roads are cleared, sidewalks and parking lots may still be treacherous. Be safe, my friends, and cozy and well, wherever you are.
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