Life is really busy at the moment. I am in the middle of a great book but didn't finish it in time to write a Read 52 Books in 52 Weeks post. But it is a beautiful fall afternoon with a bright blue sky and the lush green trees' color is just starting to golden, and I am by the open window feeling a gentle breeze on my cheek. So I feel like posting a short post on books anyway. Just this morning I rediscovered a blog I used to visit a lot but haven't in a couple of years. So delighted it is still around! It's Darwin Catholic. I was reading through their September posts and came across this one about books that disappointed individual readers. People were listing the classics they just couldn't get into, so I thought I'd join in over here. Mostly, I am agreeing with some of the posters (but then it just becomes a confessions of poorly read book lover):
1. I don't know why but I have no desire whatsoever to ever read Proust.
2. I don't like Edith Wharton.
3. I don't like Henry James.
4. I have tried three times and have never been able to finish Moby Dick.
5. I couldn't stand the character of Sherlock Holmes in the actual stories. I agree with the poster over there that says he's much better in films and TV.
6. I have tried to read War and Peace and can't get past the first few chapters. The names alone confuse me.
7. I have never finished a book by Dostoyevsky. This means I can never truly be considered intellectual.
8. I despise D.H. Lawrence. Also Henry Miller and Lawrence Durrell.
9. I am fascinated by Tolkien but I found The Hobbit too long winded and I have only read bits and pieces of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy.
I loved Catcher in the Rye and in fact read J.D. Salinger's other books as well. But that was as a depressed high schooler. I have no idea what I would think now, but I totally got Holden Caulfield.
I loved A Wrinkle in Time but never read the other books in the series.
Oh dear. Got distracted and now realize I am supposed to be tidying right now. Also figuring out how to roast a leg of lamb for dinner.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Sunday, September 22, 2013
The Children of Odin - Book 43
This book of Norse myths is a retelling by the beloved Padriac Colum. You can find it under different titles. We have two version here. An old edition put out by Dover Books entitled Nordic Gods and Heroes and The Children of Odin which really looks like someone printed it off from Gutenberg (and which had some printing errors). We had to read this for our Aquinas Learning Schola Alta literature class. The nicest version, I thought was this one.
Colum wrote in a quaint, old fashioned way, that was never dumbed down for children. I find, whenever I read his books, it helps to hear (in my head) them being read with an Irish lilt. The sentence structure is a little folksy and more complicated than kids are used to today. And he uses words like, 'thee,' and 'thou,' 'doth', 'wroth,' 'naught' and the like, which adds to the charm, I think.
Frankly, I found the stories rather confusing though. I was only vaguely aware of some of the gods and their stories before this. I learned a lot about Norse mythology but found the many strange (to me) names and the many characters a bit overwhelming. The book is divided into four parts. By the time I got to the third part, I was beginning to feel more confident and by the time I got to the final part which tells the story of Sigurd (the basis for Wagner's opera Siegfried) I was thoroughly engrossed. That final story neatly wraps back around to the first chapter in the book and sort of makes everything make better sense. So it is worth it to keep reading and finish the book, even if initially, you might be confused by everything that is going on. Those Norse are something though. Not only do they have these crazy names for all their many gods, giants, dwarves, etc but they name inanimate objects too, including walls! I was learning about Norse mythology with 14 7th-9th graders and they understood and retained much more of the detail than I did. I think my old brain would need another close reading of the text to really absorb it all in the same way that the students did. They just sucked it all up immediately! I can understand why these tales have inspired so many comic books and fantasy writers.
The most fascinating aspect of this was discovering similarities and the source of inspiration for J.R.R. Tolkien's Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. The elements of a dragon guarding a hoard stolen from dwarves is taken right from these stories. Tolkien's ring is also obviously inspired by these myths. One can find a story very similar to the one of King Arthur pulling the sword from the stone and another story is reminiscent of Sleeping Beauty. One can also find a lot of parallels to many Christian ideas. The story of the Twilight of the Gods, Ragnorak, is especially powerful.
And back to Tolkien, he apparently wrote his own epic version of Sigurd. It is written in modern English but in the meter of a Nordic saga. It was published posthumously in 2009! Sigurd really was my favorite story in the whole collection, so I am quite interested in reading Tolkien's piece.
A worthwhile read! For more book reviews, go to Read 52 Books in 52 Weeks.
Colum wrote in a quaint, old fashioned way, that was never dumbed down for children. I find, whenever I read his books, it helps to hear (in my head) them being read with an Irish lilt. The sentence structure is a little folksy and more complicated than kids are used to today. And he uses words like, 'thee,' and 'thou,' 'doth', 'wroth,' 'naught' and the like, which adds to the charm, I think.
Frankly, I found the stories rather confusing though. I was only vaguely aware of some of the gods and their stories before this. I learned a lot about Norse mythology but found the many strange (to me) names and the many characters a bit overwhelming. The book is divided into four parts. By the time I got to the third part, I was beginning to feel more confident and by the time I got to the final part which tells the story of Sigurd (the basis for Wagner's opera Siegfried) I was thoroughly engrossed. That final story neatly wraps back around to the first chapter in the book and sort of makes everything make better sense. So it is worth it to keep reading and finish the book, even if initially, you might be confused by everything that is going on. Those Norse are something though. Not only do they have these crazy names for all their many gods, giants, dwarves, etc but they name inanimate objects too, including walls! I was learning about Norse mythology with 14 7th-9th graders and they understood and retained much more of the detail than I did. I think my old brain would need another close reading of the text to really absorb it all in the same way that the students did. They just sucked it all up immediately! I can understand why these tales have inspired so many comic books and fantasy writers.
The most fascinating aspect of this was discovering similarities and the source of inspiration for J.R.R. Tolkien's Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. The elements of a dragon guarding a hoard stolen from dwarves is taken right from these stories. Tolkien's ring is also obviously inspired by these myths. One can find a story very similar to the one of King Arthur pulling the sword from the stone and another story is reminiscent of Sleeping Beauty. One can also find a lot of parallels to many Christian ideas. The story of the Twilight of the Gods, Ragnorak, is especially powerful.
And back to Tolkien, he apparently wrote his own epic version of Sigurd. It is written in modern English but in the meter of a Nordic saga. It was published posthumously in 2009! Sigurd really was my favorite story in the whole collection, so I am quite interested in reading Tolkien's piece.
A worthwhile read! For more book reviews, go to Read 52 Books in 52 Weeks.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Housekeeping and other things for this coming week - 9/15/13
Well, here I am trying to implement my new plan of attack on keeping up with house chores. After posting everything I did on Wednesday, I immediately got caught up in preparing to teach on Thursday (my first day!) I had first day jitters for sure but it turned out to be great fun. However, Friday I didn't do my 30 minutes. Shame on me! Saturday, I devoted more than an hour to Becky's room.
Poor Becky, She suffers from a strange kind of 'tired old mother' neglect. I hardly was good at teaching the older kids good habits in terms of neatness and organization, but somehow I got even worse with her. Her room has been a disaster for a very long time. Between my tiredness and ineptitude and her arts and crafts busyness which creates much havoc, plus her stubborn, don't tell me what to do attitude all equated to Becky's room being something you'd see in that show about hoarders.
Last week (or the week before?) I had gotten in there and cleaned a good deal. You see I told her I was going to clean it for her for her birthday present in July. The room was so bad that no way could a 12 yo girl who hasn't a clue about being neat anyway (and whose fault is that?) could deal with it. Way too overwhelming. So I said I'd get it all cleaned and organized for her and then her job would be regular maintenance. So I did get a lot of junk sorted and at least put into bins and baskets, etc around the periphery of the room. I washed all her clothes and we got rid of a lot she had grown out of. Yesterday, I got in and cleaned out under her desk which was just a complete chaotic mish mash of doll stuff, arts and crafts stuff, etc. I can't even begin to list it all. I also clean up another corner of the room between her bed and dresser and vacuumed and dusted parts of the room that had been neglected for a long time. No wonder the girl has developed allergies. I think it comes from sleeping in such a dusty room. I also washed her bedding.
So this week, I'd like to focus on her dresser top and all the stray linens, etc that are in a huge pile on her chair. In fact throughout the house I am trying to sort through and put in giveaway lots of towels, sheets, old holey comforters etc. I'd like to get everything washed and sorted and also clean out the linen closet and organize it as well.
I'm keeping my goal at that because this coming week is our first full schedule week for the new year:
Monday
math tutor at 9:00 (work on Becky's room and linens)
I teach RE in the evening
Don't have to drive Sean though.
Hope to get a lot of Becky's schooling done
I did want to start my physical therapy for my neck though - doesn't look like it will happen.
Tuesday:
Becky up to do math homework
Becky's first guitar/voice lessons in a.m.
Becky's first graphite art lesson in p.m.
Have to drive Seano
Becky should work on reading and writing
Seano has appt with Dr. Hover at 4:00
Wednesday:
math tutor (work on master bath)
Focus on Becky getting homework all done for Aquinas Learning
have to drive Seano
Seano goes to CLC in evening
Thursday:
At Aquinas Learning all day
(the great thing about this day is that while I do have to prepare in advance for the Lit/Comp class (I only have 45 minutes before it starts at 9:30), once that is done I am free until 2:15 when I have Latin 1. So I think I'll have plenty of time to read the students' papers and prep for Latin 1.)
Friday:
Becky gets a head start on Aquinas Learning homework
We start science.
I really, really want to start physical therapy. The pain is very annoying and tiring and distracting. I am too busy for this!!!!! Makes me angry! I also really want to get my hair cut. It is too long and too much trouble.
Poor Becky, She suffers from a strange kind of 'tired old mother' neglect. I hardly was good at teaching the older kids good habits in terms of neatness and organization, but somehow I got even worse with her. Her room has been a disaster for a very long time. Between my tiredness and ineptitude and her arts and crafts busyness which creates much havoc, plus her stubborn, don't tell me what to do attitude all equated to Becky's room being something you'd see in that show about hoarders.
Last week (or the week before?) I had gotten in there and cleaned a good deal. You see I told her I was going to clean it for her for her birthday present in July. The room was so bad that no way could a 12 yo girl who hasn't a clue about being neat anyway (and whose fault is that?) could deal with it. Way too overwhelming. So I said I'd get it all cleaned and organized for her and then her job would be regular maintenance. So I did get a lot of junk sorted and at least put into bins and baskets, etc around the periphery of the room. I washed all her clothes and we got rid of a lot she had grown out of. Yesterday, I got in and cleaned out under her desk which was just a complete chaotic mish mash of doll stuff, arts and crafts stuff, etc. I can't even begin to list it all. I also clean up another corner of the room between her bed and dresser and vacuumed and dusted parts of the room that had been neglected for a long time. No wonder the girl has developed allergies. I think it comes from sleeping in such a dusty room. I also washed her bedding.
So this week, I'd like to focus on her dresser top and all the stray linens, etc that are in a huge pile on her chair. In fact throughout the house I am trying to sort through and put in giveaway lots of towels, sheets, old holey comforters etc. I'd like to get everything washed and sorted and also clean out the linen closet and organize it as well.
I'm keeping my goal at that because this coming week is our first full schedule week for the new year:
Monday
math tutor at 9:00 (work on Becky's room and linens)
I teach RE in the evening
Don't have to drive Sean though.
Hope to get a lot of Becky's schooling done
I did want to start my physical therapy for my neck though - doesn't look like it will happen.
Tuesday:
Becky up to do math homework
Becky's first guitar/voice lessons in a.m.
Becky's first graphite art lesson in p.m.
Have to drive Seano
Becky should work on reading and writing
Seano has appt with Dr. Hover at 4:00
Wednesday:
math tutor (work on master bath)
Focus on Becky getting homework all done for Aquinas Learning
have to drive Seano
Seano goes to CLC in evening
Thursday:
At Aquinas Learning all day
(the great thing about this day is that while I do have to prepare in advance for the Lit/Comp class (I only have 45 minutes before it starts at 9:30), once that is done I am free until 2:15 when I have Latin 1. So I think I'll have plenty of time to read the students' papers and prep for Latin 1.)
Friday:
Becky gets a head start on Aquinas Learning homework
We start science.
I really, really want to start physical therapy. The pain is very annoying and tiring and distracting. I am too busy for this!!!!! Makes me angry! I also really want to get my hair cut. It is too long and too much trouble.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Race with the Devil - Book 42
Race with the Devil by Joseph Pearce is another conversion story. I don't know why I find these stories endlessly fascinating. I think it is because I have the sensation of never being quite converted enough. I really admire Joseph Pearce. I've heard him talk a couple of times at homeschooling conferences. He autographed one of the Ignatius Press editions he edited that I bought at a conference. (I have several of them but I don't recall which one he signed. And I'm too lazy to go look right now.) I've read his books Chesterton and the Catholic Church, Literary Converts and The Quest for Shakespeare. I really think he's a brilliant biographer and the people who he chooses to write biographies about are exactly the ones I want to read about! So when I saw he had written a spiritual memoir I knew I wanted to read it. I got this on my Kindle.
The funny thing about this book is how even though I knew a bit of Pearce's story from his talks and even though I admire his writing, I still had trouble not being really repulsed as he detailed his days as a racist skinhead in England in the 70's and 80's. I have read lots of conversion stories and most of the people did very unsavory things that I heartily see as wrong and as destructive to mankind's search for truth, but I still managed to see them as lost sheep and could feel some amount of empathy for them in their lost days of misbegotten youth. But I had a hard time with this one. It turns out I am really bigoted when it comes to feeling compassion for skinheads. I don't actually see them as quite human. They are monsters. I am very black and white (ha ha!) about it emotionally and just see them as evil personified. So this book was a good exercise in learning to love one's enemies for me. I didn't realize I had such a visceral response.
While Pearce is very honest about all the evil things he did and openly admits how bad they were, he also explains where he was coming from and objectively there are reasons why someone might fall into the fallacy of white supremacy. Cultural reasons, emotional reasons, psychological reasons, but I found I couldn't quite get into the sympathetic mindset and had to kind of steel myself to keep reading. Perhaps it is my own background. I come from Irish Catholic stock, mostly. I also have an English great grandmother who was very proud of staying Catholic in spite of the rabid anti-Catholicism of the English government and people. I have a great, great grandfather who was Jewish and of course I am married to a Jewish guy, so the pro-Nazi, antisemitism, anti-Irish stuff was a little hard to stomach.
What I did love about this book is that it really is a memoir of the books he read and how this reading led him to Catholicism. One thing that surprised me is that in his days of having to commute for two hours both ways to get to the National Front's office (where he published their newspaper The Bulldog), one of the books he read was by Oswald Spengler. I had only heard about Spengler because I read a book by a practicing Orthodox Jew by the name of David Goldberg who really admired Spengler and in fact writes under that pseudonym for the Asia Times. So the fact that Pearce read the same author in the heyday of his own antisemitism is puzzling to me. How could the same person appeal to two such vastly different people? I also thought it was so interesting that Pearce at this time was so profoundly impressed by Alexandr Solzhenitsyn writings and then later was one of the few people who was allowed to interview that great author. Solzhenitsyn let Pearce interview him because of Pearce's biography of Chesterton, at that point the only biography he had published. Solzhenitsyn was a big Chesterton fan! And of course the fact that Pearce was largely converted to Catholicism by Chesterton's writings (which Pearce read in prison, no less) makes for a fascinating story. And I really must read more Belloc too! Maybe I'll start with Pearce's biography of him.
I remember back in the 70's and early 80's, hearing of all the unrest in England. The riots, the skinheads, the punk rockers, the hooliganism. I remember learning about the Troubles in Northern Ireland. It was an ugly time. My parents took us to England, Ireland and Scotland in the summer of 1976 when Pearce who is just one year younger than me was just getting started in National Front politics. I remember that hot trip and the sensation of unrest. I remember being afraid once when we were driving past a rugby game that was just getting out and seeing a huge number of police there and my dad explaining that the English had a nasty habit of rioting after games. One interesting tidbit of information Pearce reveals is that his brother, Steve, was the manager for the group Soft Cell who had the big hit Tainted Love. I remember that song. I'd link to the video but it is both incredibly stupid and icky, so I won't. But his brother was a millionaire by age 19 because of this!
Pearce slowly moves away from his life of darkness and into the arms of Christ, his beloved mother and his beloved church. Pearce reiterates often (even in the subtitle of the book) that his was a move from racial hatred to rational love. The whole book really is an illustration of why relativism will never work and why love, real love, which is God, is always the answer.
For more book reviews go to Read 52 Books in 52 Weeks.
The funny thing about this book is how even though I knew a bit of Pearce's story from his talks and even though I admire his writing, I still had trouble not being really repulsed as he detailed his days as a racist skinhead in England in the 70's and 80's. I have read lots of conversion stories and most of the people did very unsavory things that I heartily see as wrong and as destructive to mankind's search for truth, but I still managed to see them as lost sheep and could feel some amount of empathy for them in their lost days of misbegotten youth. But I had a hard time with this one. It turns out I am really bigoted when it comes to feeling compassion for skinheads. I don't actually see them as quite human. They are monsters. I am very black and white (ha ha!) about it emotionally and just see them as evil personified. So this book was a good exercise in learning to love one's enemies for me. I didn't realize I had such a visceral response.
While Pearce is very honest about all the evil things he did and openly admits how bad they were, he also explains where he was coming from and objectively there are reasons why someone might fall into the fallacy of white supremacy. Cultural reasons, emotional reasons, psychological reasons, but I found I couldn't quite get into the sympathetic mindset and had to kind of steel myself to keep reading. Perhaps it is my own background. I come from Irish Catholic stock, mostly. I also have an English great grandmother who was very proud of staying Catholic in spite of the rabid anti-Catholicism of the English government and people. I have a great, great grandfather who was Jewish and of course I am married to a Jewish guy, so the pro-Nazi, antisemitism, anti-Irish stuff was a little hard to stomach.
What I did love about this book is that it really is a memoir of the books he read and how this reading led him to Catholicism. One thing that surprised me is that in his days of having to commute for two hours both ways to get to the National Front's office (where he published their newspaper The Bulldog), one of the books he read was by Oswald Spengler. I had only heard about Spengler because I read a book by a practicing Orthodox Jew by the name of David Goldberg who really admired Spengler and in fact writes under that pseudonym for the Asia Times. So the fact that Pearce read the same author in the heyday of his own antisemitism is puzzling to me. How could the same person appeal to two such vastly different people? I also thought it was so interesting that Pearce at this time was so profoundly impressed by Alexandr Solzhenitsyn writings and then later was one of the few people who was allowed to interview that great author. Solzhenitsyn let Pearce interview him because of Pearce's biography of Chesterton, at that point the only biography he had published. Solzhenitsyn was a big Chesterton fan! And of course the fact that Pearce was largely converted to Catholicism by Chesterton's writings (which Pearce read in prison, no less) makes for a fascinating story. And I really must read more Belloc too! Maybe I'll start with Pearce's biography of him.
I remember back in the 70's and early 80's, hearing of all the unrest in England. The riots, the skinheads, the punk rockers, the hooliganism. I remember learning about the Troubles in Northern Ireland. It was an ugly time. My parents took us to England, Ireland and Scotland in the summer of 1976 when Pearce who is just one year younger than me was just getting started in National Front politics. I remember that hot trip and the sensation of unrest. I remember being afraid once when we were driving past a rugby game that was just getting out and seeing a huge number of police there and my dad explaining that the English had a nasty habit of rioting after games. One interesting tidbit of information Pearce reveals is that his brother, Steve, was the manager for the group Soft Cell who had the big hit Tainted Love. I remember that song. I'd link to the video but it is both incredibly stupid and icky, so I won't. But his brother was a millionaire by age 19 because of this!
Pearce slowly moves away from his life of darkness and into the arms of Christ, his beloved mother and his beloved church. Pearce reiterates often (even in the subtitle of the book) that his was a move from racial hatred to rational love. The whole book really is an illustration of why relativism will never work and why love, real love, which is God, is always the answer.
For more book reviews go to Read 52 Books in 52 Weeks.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Housekeeping plans? What housekeeping plans?
I am supposed to be planning lessons for tomorrow, but I am taking a little break and am thinking about my new plan!
I keep trying to come up with a routine for housekeeping and then immediately forgetting about it. I don't even get it really promulgated to the family. Or I announce it once with no follow up. That's never going to work in this house. I have to say at least 10 times if I hope for even partial implementation.
But hope (or insanity) springs eternal!
Here's my new, improved plan!
On Mondays and Wednesdays the math tutor comes from 9 to 10. I am going to devote that time to doing cleaning. I may eventually get into a pattern of what I'll do then, but right now I am just going to attack whatever is bugging me the most.
This a.m. during that hour, I:
- scrubbed my kitchen sink and made it all goop-free and shiny.
- wiped down the stove, the island and some but not all counters. I also wiped down the table.
- loaded the dishwasher and ran it.
- put pots and pans away (it was a towering mountain of pots and pans!)
- swept the front hall and kitchen floors.
- swept the front bathroom and wiped it down quickly and put new toilet paper in!
- swept and wiped down the basement stairs (which were really gross - something to do with our dog - I'll spare the details!)
- got into the basement bathroom which was used by two college men this summer (well, one just graduated) and it was soooo gross. OMG! I swept it, and scrubbed everything down. The tub however is a problem. It has this funny coating on the bottom to keep from slipping (supposedly it meant you didn't have to get one of those mats) but it is so grubby and the coating has come off so it is nastily discolored. Don't know how to fix that one.
Then my hour was up. I regret that I did not wash floors. I think I will save that for my next hour cleaning.
So M and W cleaning from 9-10 a.m.
On Tuesdays, I will devote 30 minutes to cleaning. I get back from dropping off Sean about 8:00, so from 8:00 to 8:30 while I am waking Becky up and getting her a quick breakfast, I will also focus on something like decluttering horizontal surfaces or doing a quick clean out of the fridge. That sort of thing.
Fridays I will also do a 30 minutes clean - maybe dusting and a quick vacuum of a room.
Thursdays I'll take off from housecleaning just because I am busy all day and want some down time after Aquinas Learning.
Saturdays will be another hour long cleaning session.
I've decided that the the kids are responsible for their own rooms and each have a bathroom to keep clean. From now on, everyone has to perform those chores by noon on Saturday. They can sleep in a bit, mosey around in their pj's for a bit, eat a late breakfast and then do some chores.
Sundays I'll probably do 30 minutes just because I'll need it to feel like I am starting the school week ahead of the game.
So there you have it. My new plan. I really am nuts!
I keep trying to come up with a routine for housekeeping and then immediately forgetting about it. I don't even get it really promulgated to the family. Or I announce it once with no follow up. That's never going to work in this house. I have to say at least 10 times if I hope for even partial implementation.
But hope (or insanity) springs eternal!
Here's my new, improved plan!
On Mondays and Wednesdays the math tutor comes from 9 to 10. I am going to devote that time to doing cleaning. I may eventually get into a pattern of what I'll do then, but right now I am just going to attack whatever is bugging me the most.
This a.m. during that hour, I:
- scrubbed my kitchen sink and made it all goop-free and shiny.
- wiped down the stove, the island and some but not all counters. I also wiped down the table.
- loaded the dishwasher and ran it.
- put pots and pans away (it was a towering mountain of pots and pans!)
- swept the front hall and kitchen floors.
- swept the front bathroom and wiped it down quickly and put new toilet paper in!
- swept and wiped down the basement stairs (which were really gross - something to do with our dog - I'll spare the details!)
- got into the basement bathroom which was used by two college men this summer (well, one just graduated) and it was soooo gross. OMG! I swept it, and scrubbed everything down. The tub however is a problem. It has this funny coating on the bottom to keep from slipping (supposedly it meant you didn't have to get one of those mats) but it is so grubby and the coating has come off so it is nastily discolored. Don't know how to fix that one.
Then my hour was up. I regret that I did not wash floors. I think I will save that for my next hour cleaning.
So M and W cleaning from 9-10 a.m.
On Tuesdays, I will devote 30 minutes to cleaning. I get back from dropping off Sean about 8:00, so from 8:00 to 8:30 while I am waking Becky up and getting her a quick breakfast, I will also focus on something like decluttering horizontal surfaces or doing a quick clean out of the fridge. That sort of thing.
Fridays I will also do a 30 minutes clean - maybe dusting and a quick vacuum of a room.
Thursdays I'll take off from housecleaning just because I am busy all day and want some down time after Aquinas Learning.
Saturdays will be another hour long cleaning session.
I've decided that the the kids are responsible for their own rooms and each have a bathroom to keep clean. From now on, everyone has to perform those chores by noon on Saturday. They can sleep in a bit, mosey around in their pj's for a bit, eat a late breakfast and then do some chores.
Sundays I'll probably do 30 minutes just because I'll need it to feel like I am starting the school week ahead of the game.
So there you have it. My new plan. I really am nuts!
A Weird Dream
Life has gotten extremely busy lately. Don't seem to be able to focus on blogging, but I had the weirdest dream this a.m. just before the alarm went off. I hardly ever have dreams anymore or at least ones I can remember so I thought I'd jot this one down.
It was one of those apocalyptic sort of dreams.
I dreamt I was walking around the town I grew up in with some of my sisters. I think Paula, Sharon and Lisa. We were by the schoolyard of the grade school we all attended when I notice a huge crack in the pavement. Then I knew we were about to have an earthquake. Just as I tried to shout out a warning to the others the earth began to shake and roll and the fissure in the pavement began to shake and creak into a gapping chasm. I tried to run but fell to my hands and knees and tried to crawl away. The earth was rolling like waves and somehow it had carried my sisters away from me so that they were only dots on a horizon. I saw them going up and down and in and out of my view. The earth though turned into something soft, like rumpled bedsheets. I thought: is this turning into quicksand? But no it didn't seem dangerous. Everything remained soft like rumpled sheets on a bed. I looked towards the chasm and thought: is poisonous gas escaping? Will I die if I breathe it? Then I realized I could never get away if that were so, so I said out loud: Lord, if you are going to take me, do it now!
And then I woke up.
I like to try to figure out where everything that happens in a dream comes from.
My old town - well, I still live near it and visit it very frequently. I drove through it yesterday, so that's easy to see where that comes from. Plus, often in my dreams I'm in my old house where I grew up or near it.
The earth feeling like bedsheets. Well, obviously I was waking up and sensing my actual bedsheets (which were terribly tangled. I must have sleeping really restlessly!).
The poisonous gas probably comes from frequent mentions of the chemical warfare in Syria.
Don't know why I dreamt about an earthquake, but I've dreamt that sort of thing before, ages ago.
However, I don't remember ever praying in a dream before! The weird thing was realizing there was nothing I could do so I had trust in God and just take whatever was going to happen. That sensation of making that decision was the strongest impression of the dream.
I remember once talking to a priest who was a psychologist. I asked him what dreams meant. And he said it depended but that he thought they could be a working out of some problem or anxiety that has taken hold of one's mind. I thought that was a pretty astute view on dreams.
UPDATE! I just realized today is 9/11!!!! I bet that's why I had this nightmare. I do that sometimes. I am pretty ditzy about remembering dates but I've done stuff like dream about my mother and then wake up and realize it is Mother's Day or her birthday or something. So that's probably it. My brain knew what today was even if I didn't consciously.
It was one of those apocalyptic sort of dreams.
I dreamt I was walking around the town I grew up in with some of my sisters. I think Paula, Sharon and Lisa. We were by the schoolyard of the grade school we all attended when I notice a huge crack in the pavement. Then I knew we were about to have an earthquake. Just as I tried to shout out a warning to the others the earth began to shake and roll and the fissure in the pavement began to shake and creak into a gapping chasm. I tried to run but fell to my hands and knees and tried to crawl away. The earth was rolling like waves and somehow it had carried my sisters away from me so that they were only dots on a horizon. I saw them going up and down and in and out of my view. The earth though turned into something soft, like rumpled bedsheets. I thought: is this turning into quicksand? But no it didn't seem dangerous. Everything remained soft like rumpled sheets on a bed. I looked towards the chasm and thought: is poisonous gas escaping? Will I die if I breathe it? Then I realized I could never get away if that were so, so I said out loud: Lord, if you are going to take me, do it now!
And then I woke up.
I like to try to figure out where everything that happens in a dream comes from.
My old town - well, I still live near it and visit it very frequently. I drove through it yesterday, so that's easy to see where that comes from. Plus, often in my dreams I'm in my old house where I grew up or near it.
The earth feeling like bedsheets. Well, obviously I was waking up and sensing my actual bedsheets (which were terribly tangled. I must have sleeping really restlessly!).
The poisonous gas probably comes from frequent mentions of the chemical warfare in Syria.
Don't know why I dreamt about an earthquake, but I've dreamt that sort of thing before, ages ago.
However, I don't remember ever praying in a dream before! The weird thing was realizing there was nothing I could do so I had trust in God and just take whatever was going to happen. That sensation of making that decision was the strongest impression of the dream.
I remember once talking to a priest who was a psychologist. I asked him what dreams meant. And he said it depended but that he thought they could be a working out of some problem or anxiety that has taken hold of one's mind. I thought that was a pretty astute view on dreams.
UPDATE! I just realized today is 9/11!!!! I bet that's why I had this nightmare. I do that sometimes. I am pretty ditzy about remembering dates but I've done stuff like dream about my mother and then wake up and realize it is Mother's Day or her birthday or something. So that's probably it. My brain knew what today was even if I didn't consciously.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)