Freedom is just Chaos, with better lighting.
–Alan Dean Foster
Category Archives: Humanities
Bookworm
Yep, I’ve read a lot of books in the past few years. This year is a record; I’ve never read as many before.
This is due in part to the fact that I’ve had lots of time to read. While I’m grateful for this, I do seek a change. A job, to be specific. When I get that job, I’ll have much less time in general, and this has caused me to reflect on what I most want to do with that time.
I loved rediscovering art in November. I love publishing this blog. I want to continue knitting. So reading, while it will still happen, will probably decrease. I console myself with the thought that I’ll save more money be reading less, since I won’t frequent the bookstores as much. (Ha! Self-delusion!)
But since I am still unemployed, this restriction in reading may not occur anytime soon. And if you’d care to take a gander at my library, just head right this way.
Books Read in 2005
Note: in process; this will be updated on 12/31.
* = recommended strike = don’t bother neither mark = it passed the time
Books Read in 2004
* = recommended strike = don’t bother neither mark = it passed the time
Books Read in 2003
* = recommended strike = don’t bother neither mark = it passed the time
Books Read in 2002
* = recommended strike = don’t bother neither mark = it passed the time
Judge Each Day
Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant.
–Robert Louis Stevenson
That Which
I haven’t read much Bertrand Russell. I came across his essay, Why I Am Not a Christian, when I was in my mid-twenties. Interesting and provocative. What intrigues me is that he, an atheist, uses the terms “heaven” and “spirit” in this quote. This is just a quote for thought, not a gauntlet thrown to start a debate about the merits or demerits of atheism, Christianity, or other religions.
That which exists through itself is called The Eternal. The Eternal has neither name nor shape. It is the one essence, the one primal spirit. Essence and life cannot be seen. They are contained in the light of heaven. The light of heaven cannot be seen. It is contained in the two eyes.
–Bertrand Russell
[update 12/13/05: The quote here is not, as far as I could tell, from the essay I mention. I found the quote on a random search and remembered the essay.]
The World is Weird
For the average man, the world is weird because if he’s not bored with it, he’s at odds with it. For a warrior, the world is weird because it is stupendous, awesome, mysterious, unfathomable. A warrior must assume responsibility for being here, in this marvelous world, in this marvelous time.
–Carlos Castañeda
I am uneasy with the term “warrior.” The online dictionary I use provides the definition:
One who is engaged in or experienced in battle.
One who is engaged aggressively or energetically in an activity, cause, or conflict.
Do we need to frame our existence as an activity, cause, or conflict with our universe? Isn’t there another term to describe the type of person who finds the world stupendous, awesome, mysterious, and unfathomable? A couple of words that come to mind are “seeker” and “adventurer.” What words might you use?
Radiance Renewed Daily
God does not die on the day when we cease to believe in a personal deity, but we die on the day when our lives cease to be illuminated by the steady radiance, renewed daily, of a wonder, the source of which is beyond all reason.
–Dag Hammarskjold
I am challenged to keep alive on a day I learn that a mother murdered her baby by putting him in the clothes dryer.
It hurts my heart and makes my gorge rise when I imagine it.
No Whit Less
It is a weakening and discoloring idea that rustic people knew God personally once upon a time but that it is too late for us. There never was a more holy age than ours, and never a less. There is no whit less enlightenment under the tree on your street than there was under the Buddha’s bo tree.
–Annie Dillard
Where Are You?
I have an existential map. It has ‘You are here’ written all over it.
–Steven Wright
The Genial Flame of Charity
I cherish the idea of advent, though I’m not a Christian practitioner of it. Yet the celebration of light, and the coming of it, is universal. This is a photo of a candle from my advent wreath.
It is, indeed, the season of regenerated feeling — the season for kindling, not merely the fire of hospitality in the hall, but the genial flame of charity in the heart.
–Washington Irving
On a Lighter Note
When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson
Yo, Mapelba!
This is a shout-out to my friend who sent me her manuscript to read a couple months ago. She participated in NaNoWriMo and won. Mapelba exceeded the 50,000 word goal, ending up at slightly over 80,000 words. And she’s probably still going to tinker after a well-deserved rest.
I am so impressed with and proud of her. She’s married, has a two-year-old son, and works full-time, and she managed to accomplish this. She is a writer, indeed.
Well done, my dear. You are awesome.
Self-Portrait Tuesday: Thoughts on Identity
There’s another creative endeavor I recently found called Self-Portrait Tuesday. Each month has a theme, and each week participants explore the theme using portraits they took of themselves. The theme for November is exploration of identity. Below is a photo I took as I played at modeling a scarf I made last night. This photo was the best of the bunch.
As I looked at the photo, I was uncomfortable with what I saw. And the thing is, it’s all superficial and I know better. I mean, I was trained to be a psychotherapist, I did years of my own therapy, I understand my value is not based in externals. What kind of example am I?
But we are all our own critics, I suppose. When I look at this photo, I see a woman whose skin is beginning to show less resilience and freshness. I see the double chin forming, the face rounding out. I’m not in the best of shape and am significantly over what is considered a healthy weight. This became the case in 1999/2000, and I’ve not met with success in reducing it significantly or maintaining loss. Motivation is a factor, but so is age. My metabolism simply doesn’t burn as strongly. I am aging. We all are, but there comes a point when what’s inside, how one feels, begins to contradict what one sees in the mirror. This is the beginning of mortality consciousness on a new level.
Continuing to look at the photo, I see a slightly shy gaze peering back. The eyes are kind, inquisitive, and perhaps a tad mischievous. In childhood, you would have found a photo of me next to the word “hyper-sensitive” in the dictionary. I probably would have appeared next to “shy” and “crybaby” too. Later you’d find me next to “introvert” and probably still would. I’m not a commanding presence. I don’t seize attention, never felt comfortable flirting or showing off my body or using my sexuality overtly. For years I was guarded against in-person relationships with men. One of my most intimate relationships was conducted over ten years in letters to a man I never laid eyes on. I am a discovery that only those with open eyes find. I don’t look like much on the outside, but there’s a mother-lode of interesting goodness inside.
That’s why Internet publishing such as blogging is one of my favorite hobbies. This type of writing has connected me to others of similar interests, yet whose dispositions toward introversion would have meant we never met. And I get to “display my wares” to an audience of kindred spirits. As I look at the woman in this photo, I am curious as to what awaits in her future. At mid-life I am getting a little long in the tooth to become a mother, but we shall see. I’m also getting to an age where it will be harder to convince employers to hire me, something that increases sharply when one hits 50 and up. (Read Ronni Bennett’s blog if you are dubious.) And yet I have reached an age where my willingness to explore is less hindered by fear. I feel more accepting of my flaws and mistakes. I don’t feel a need to apologize for my existence anymore. I am full of experiences and have something to say to the world, some measure of aliveness to offer. People drop in, take what they want or need, and go on their way. I like this — my virtual personal café. And really, what more can a person ask for than a venue to offer her talents to the world? We are all seeking meaning and significance; we’d like to be remembered forever, but obscurity is the destiny of all but a few. Right now, right here, though, I’m making an impact. I hope it’s a good one; I strive for that.
A Toy
If little else, the brain is an educational toy.
–Tom Robbins
And so many people neglect it…
All Good Things
My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him, all good things—trout as well as eternal salvation—come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy.
–Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It
Thankful
Gratitude is the inward feeling of kindness received. Thankfulness is the natural impulse to express that feeling. Thanksgiving is the following of that impulse.
–Henry Van Dyke
Better Dead
It was a book to kill time for those who like it better dead.
–Dame Rose Macaulay
Hee! I’m a bit of a reading snob, I suppose, because I think serial mysteries and romances fall into this classification. There are actually occasions when such a book is desireable, even a slightly sinful indulgence. My “I like time better dead” author used to be Lawrence Sanders many years ago. More recently it has been Patricia Cornwell’s Kay Scarpetta mysteries with a little Jonathan Kellerman thrown in. Some people like chicklit, others like romance or adventure or science fiction. What’s your genre for killing time?