Feeling Like an Island

 I'm sure some people out there remember the song by Paul Simon, "I Am a Rock, I Am an Island."  That's what I feel like, now that Covid Insanity has gone on for over 200 days.  Looking out of my lonely room, day after day.  Oh, yeah, that's from a Paul McCartney song, I think.

Anyway, Covid-19 has forced all of us into a small shell of isolation.  The thing I miss most is seeing and talking to friends at church.  These have always been surrogate family to me, wherever I've lived.  But now it's pretty much cut off.  For a loner like me, it's probably not as difficult as for people who really crave social contact.  

I wonder how long it will be until we can come out of our shells.  Will we even remember how to relate to people?  The things I see in the news make me think we've already lost all knowledge of how to get along with others.  In fact,  I've quit watching, in order to preserve my sanity. 

Sorry. Gloomy thoughts for a cloudy, gloomy day.

Troubled Deeply About America

 I'm feeling so troubled about our nation that I must write something here to try to sort my thoughts.  Twenty years ago, one of my favorite songs was by Lee Greenwood.  It said, "I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free..."  But now, I almost feel ashamed to be an American.

Too often now, I see people on all sides using "freedom" as an excuse for violence toward the 'others' they hold in contempt.  In my opinion, our president's vocal criticisms, tweets, diatribes, name-calling, and arrogance have just exacerbated the problems. Evidently diplomacy isn't something CEOs of big corporations have to learn.

I grew up in the turbulent 60s and 70s.  Now it seems like our country has backslid over 50 years.  Racism, bigotry, chauvinism, seem to be running rampant again.  The current administration seems bent on undermining some of the main progress made back then--the Civil Rights and voting rights legislation,  the environmental legislation, and equal rights for women.

If you look back at our history over the past 300 years, you will find that scapegoating, blaming the poor for their own fate, and derogatory labels are nothing new.  In other words, we have made no progress at all.  And we dare to say, "Make America Great Again" ?  It has failed to be great in so many ways, which we choose to ignore.  Think about slavery, genocide of Native Americans, mistreatment  of various races, and anti-immigration laws.  The Statue of Liberty has a tablet engraved with, "...I lift my lamp at the open door."  But too many want that door closed. 

The COVID crisis has brought out our true colors, and they aren't pretty at all.  Does anyone wonder why we have the highest infection rate in the world?  Without even mentioning Washington, I think Covid has unveiled the inequities and weakness in our health care system, just for starters.

What really irked me was when I saw pro-Trump banners that said "Fuck your feelings."  (I don't normally use that word in print.)  My gut reaction was, "I want no part of attitudes like that."

I have decided to live by another four-letter word -- LOVE.

Where are the leaders like Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King, Jr.?  Men who reminded us that violence only breeds more violence, hatred just breeds hate.  Darkness cannot overcome darkness.  Only light can do that.  But unfortunately, these great men were assassinated by other "Americans".

And the saddest part is their dreams died with them.  Other lesser men took over and kept our country in the old divided, segregated form.  That's the reason why we still have "Systemic Racism" 250 years after the end of the Civil War.

Some days, I feel like we're on the verge of another Civil War in our country.  I know there are people who are wrong on both sides of everything.  But if Christians would look at what St. Paul said in the book of Romans, about how Christians should act, it could go a long way toward helping.  Here are some examples:

True Christian Love:

- speaks well of its persecutors.  (Rom. 12:14) 

- empathizes with all people. (Rom 12:15)

- remains humble, not proud. (Rom. 12:16)

- does what is right, with no expectation of reward. (Rom. 12:17)

- seeks to live at peace, as much as possible. (Rom. 12:18)

- does NOT try to get revenge! (Rom. 12:19) 

If only there was more of this in the world...

 There are many people, even some of my relatives, who vehemently disagree with me in this.  But I am just going to pray for everyone.  Lord, give us the strength to go through these troubled times.  Help us hang onto hope, but protect us from false-hope.

Halfway to Fall Already?

August 1 marks the midway point between the Summer Solstice and the Fall Equinox.  Like the other midway feasts (May Day, Halloween) it had significance in early agrarian societies.  But it is the one that's been lost for the most part. No, it doesn't have anything to with the South American animal, or the seekers of Tibetian Budhism.

It’s taken me a long time to find information on August 1, called Lammas.  I finally got information in a book on Druids that I ran across at a workshop of Celtic Heritage in America.  I learned, as I suspected, that Lammas is a feast of harvest.  In northern climates, it would be just the early first-fruits.  The word Lammas in Irish is Lughnasadh, and in Scottish Gaelic it’s Lunasad.  Lunasa is Irish for August, too.   

The ancient god Lugh, in Irish myth, is god of all arts and crafts.  He is also considered to be the greatest of the gods, and the name implies he has a large head.  Lugh is found beyond the British Isles, too, being depicted in early art from Sweden to the Punjab.  Of course, the Irish added  their own twist, weaving the story that Lugh has now become “Lugh-chromain” which is the Irish word we pronounce as “leprechaun,” certainly a crafty character if ever there was one.

Everything Has Its Price

Another Excerpt from My Next Book

The sun is shining, but the wind is still blowing.  I’m wondering how long it will be before I can sit on our porch without a coat.  Spring here in Montana is not like the ones I grew up with in Arkansas.  Filled with blooming flowers and singing birds.

          Here, it’s mostly still brown, and the trees’ limbs are bare.  Some of my friends have a few crocuses peeking out.   Maybe I need to plant some of those.  The daffodils I planted when we moved into this house have stopped coming up or blooming.

          This is the hardest time of year for me, March and April.  We’ve been in the grip of winter since late October, usually.  So desperate for spring, but it comes so slowly—bits of sunshine, interspersed with clouds, rain, wind, and even snow.

          “Please, just come for good,” I say.  But it doesn’t.  Just keeps playing hide-and-seek.  What I call spring won’t get here until after Mother’s Day.  It will last a week or three, and suddenly it will be summer for six weeks, if we’re lucky.

          I guess it really is true that the four seasons here are Winter, June, July, and August.

          But there are a couple of good things about long winters.  First, the mountains look more impressive covered in snow.  And second, while driving in the mountains and foothills, you can see more of the vistas when the trees don’t have their leaves yet.

          Everything has its price.

To Plan or Not to Plan?

I know I'm paraphrasing Shakespeare, so I hope he doesn't mind.  With the Shelter-at-Home orders due to COVID19, I've been facing a challenge I've never encountered before.  We all have, I know.  Over the past three weeks all the plans I had for the next five months have gone out the window.  Or into the trash.  And yes, I know I'm not alone.

My quandry is whether to have a schedule for my empty days or not.  I've always been a planner, with a daily schedule on my bulletin board and a well-marked calendar on the wall. Setting up a new schedule has the appeal of helping me cope with everything and giving me some stability.  And a way to make sure I don't 'waste' my time.

On the other hand, now that the calendar is gone, along with the schedule, I feel a strange sense of liberation.  I can do what I feel now, go with the flow.  Though I admit I find myself playing Solitaire on my Kindle a lot.  But maybe I need this bit of down time in a stressed life.

Hmm...I'm not sure which is better.  To schedule or not to schedule, that is the question.  Any ideas out there?

Beyond Words

“Cast all your cares on him, for he cares for you.”  I Peter 5:7

One morning I woke up and I believed this again.  Gone was the voice in my mind that said, “Yeah sure.  So you say.”  Or “Whatever.”

Where did it go?  Will it come back?  I actually don’t know, but I don’t miss it, either.

One thing I remember about yesterday is that I finally realized it’s okay to let yourself grieve and question God. He knows we humans can’t help it.  It’s what we are.  I was wrong to expect myself to always be upbeat and positive—to keep wearing what I knew as “The Mask”.

God wants to let us grieve, and he even wants to grieve with us.  We humans can’t help asking, “Why, God?” He knows that, and he lets us ask, even though he doesn’t answer.  Now I see this is how he shows his love for us.

And then, somehow, he helps us move past the unanswered.  Instead he reassures us that he still cares, that he will still walk with us--even though he won’t always answer all our questions.  For instead of endless explanations and words, he just gives us a spiritual hug.  And somehow, we awake one morning and realize we are loved—beyond anything that words can ever express.

Thoughts for the Palindrome Day

BLOG FOR 02-02-2020 - supposedly a palindrome (reads the same forward and backward) like this occurs only once in 900 years.  Even rarer than Haley's Comet.

I’ve been reading a good book by Madeline L’Engle, entitled “Walking On Water”.  It’s about the creative process in relation to faith.  It especially cites the value of myth and fantasy in the human experience, both as reader and writer.  I first read it 35 years ago (it was published in 1980), but now it means much more to me.  Yes, I was writing fantasy-fiction back then, but now I’m much farther along the pathway of my life.  Many more experiences.

And it ties in very well with reading I’ve been doing recently about C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, especially their thoughts on the value of “Faerie”--their word for myth and fantasy.  They saw it as “true” in the sense that it shows the human mind searching for truth—the truth they believed was ultimately revealed in Jesus.  (They called the story of Jesus the "Ultimate Myth" because it was "true".)

I also concur that myth and fantasy shouldn’t be summarily dismissed by our post-modern, fact-infused culture as “untrue” and therefore “unworthy.”  I can remember this being a prevalent attitude among conservative, fundamentalist Christians in my early years of marriage and child-rearing.  Yet, I still read and wrote fantasy, and found that it spoke to me in ways that merely “factual” writings didn’t.

Since L’Engle wrote her book in 1980, our culture has experienced a big return to fantasy.  Just as one example, there’s the 40+ years of continuing popularity of Star Wars.  And even Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter.  Or the popularity of movies based on the mythical heroes of Marvel Comics.  Some ultra-conservative Christians disdain these.  But I find myself agreeing more and more with Lewis, Tolkien, and L’Engle. (Speaking of disdain, L’Engle was criticized by conservatives for naming one of her spiritual characters in A Wrinkle in Time, Mrs. Which, because it sounded like witch.) 

But after nearly 70 years on this earth myself, I believe we as humans appear to have a need for “Faerie”, and when it is denied, the pendulum somehow manages to swing back to it again and again.  I think it shows we have a deep need for faith in some form, no matter how much culture tries to separate us from it.  Dare I say “amen”?