Christ cried at the tomb, yet he knew Laz had died. This shows:
1. Compassion
2. Prophecy
Christ cried at the tomb, yet he knew Laz had died. This shows:
1. Compassion
2. Prophecy
No, not the movie.
Fellowship comes through avatars. Meta has legless avatars.
We momentarily become that character; fellowship is temporary.
We conceal ourselves behind those cartoons.
Evaluating oneself continually is not promoting health. I have to refer this back to the scripture “do not depend on your own understanding.” For me, this came into my spirit as to self-reflection. “The over-examined life is not worth living.”
I’ve found that there is great wisdom in this text. Trying to determine why I feel a certain way or going back in personal memory to repeatedly ask for forgiveness does not promote tranquility of mind.
At this point, I will refer to medicine, but also “mindfulness” may be helpful here. I never looked at that as a serious practice; just some hokum.
Is it possible to create fiction without touching on Jung’s or Campbell’s types?
Trying to break the stereotype should not be the goal. Story is challenging because you are making new spins on old stories.
For the longest time I thought being unique and new would help in writing stories. J.K. Rowling borrows from a lot of classical and British forms. Yet she is one of the most successful writers on the planet. Even science fiction borrows from forms.
Along with this is another question I have: Is it possible to write great fiction without having a storytelling spirit at birth?
I think reading is just as important as writing a lot. You learn by both.
Can’t go back to visiting my professor at his book-hidden desk. Can’t rush it either.
Writing takes time. Writing takes skill that can be built.
Little parka, water on eyelashes, rotted wood fence, dappled leaves.
The smell of rain on concrete. Captured scents. I feel it.
The spirit is incompatible with the flesh. New wine in old wine skins.
It came upon me when I prayed that day some 30 years ago, something from above, something that could not be uttered. Its tingling sensation combined with a shiver. Voluntary versus involuntary. I had no control.
I can’t understand that feeling that fell on me, part flesh, part mind. Not graspable. Something heavenly, something strange and awesome.
The Milky Way rumbles.
Brilliant light, golden hair.
Across the firmament,
His chariot ripped.
Time slowed down,
Heaven surround.
He carried the star round the flame.
His lance shone its light.
Like pure silver,
The confluence of the rivers,
On his feet touched by divine.
He has fire.
My generation’s access to social media hinges on Facebook. I used to say “naw we can’t be classified.” But no. There are some things true about each generation. Mine is one already with kids and perhaps jobs, and other responsibilities. We don’t have a lot of access to contemporary music, cocktails, nights out.
FB provides an outlet for us as we cope with daily responsibilities. We speak with friends and “friends” on FB. I used to say some things that were “important,” but learned that is not in my bailiwick–as if it ever was. I have learned to be content with things I can speak about.
Can’t remember exactly what I was thinking when I wrote this one down:
From illusion to understanding. From ignorance to knowledge.
These are obviously about progression.
We can live under illusion or progress to understanding. Touching a real life. From thinking we know to actually knowing is progressing as well, but knowledge is not the end; Wisdom is, the application of knowledge.
December and last month I read Proverbs, asking God to show me the wisdom everyone says Proverbs has. It is a lot of warnings about an adulterous woman. But I underlined the parts about it where man was being warned about his inclinations.
Now, I am on to the 12.
My brother saved my life twice. I can’t remember either my drowning at age 3 or car crash at 18. It’s said that we have a tendency to remember the negative–but I can’t remember either of those events. Something so traumatic shouldn’t I?
This idea of a virtual life is tenacious. Smelling fire…