Tuesday, April 23, 2013
I Am One Of "Those" Women
"What was one of your favorite parts of General Conference?" the Gospel Doctrine teacher asked.
"I liked President Packer's poem," sweet neighborhood sister said.
We all nodded.
"I liked Elder Holland's talk." another neighborhood friend offered.
This time our nods were more emphatic.
"I loved the fact that two women gave prayers for the first time." I said.
Chirp, chirp.
Next, a class member cracked a joke, and many in the class giggled. "Oh, brother, she is one of "those" women," it felt to me they all thought, as, in my mind, they all did their own internal eye roll. I was not terribly shocked, but admittedly, very disappointed.
I've been one of "those" women ever since I was a child. My brothers can attest that I used to sit at the kitchen table and complain about the inequalities of boys and girls in the world. For the child I was, I used to limit my complaints to things I thought my brothers got, and then compare them to the things I felt like I didn't get. For example, the boys "got" to participate in Scouts. Ok, I didn't know then that that could be a reward or a punishment depending on the boy, and/or the activity or merit badge on which they were working. Additionally, the boys in my ward got to go to Lake Powell every year for a week as an activity. They stayed on a houseboat, water-skied, cliff jumped off of ridiculously high cliffs (ok, that didn't sound fun, it sounded terrifying), and slept and ate to their hearts’ content. The young women in our ward went to wilderness camp. I kid you not.
Also, I was raised in a very traditional home. My dad spent his days (and most nights) at work or at church. My mom spent her days working, taking care of all seven of us kids, cleaning the house, and preparing all meals. I'll never forget one particular night. Mom was bustling around trying to get dinner on the table with help from some of the kids. Dad was sitting at the table reading the paper and waiting for dinner to be served. After we had said the prayer and started passing the food, my dad picked up his glass, pretended to drink the empty liquid from his cup, and loudly said, "This water is delicious" or something to that effect. Mom, jumped up, giggled and quickly set about to fix her "mistake" of not putting something to drink on the table. I was mortified. "Get it yourself, Dad!" I angrily retorted -- in my head. Not only that, but, since there were four boys and three girls in our home, it was easy to see if the jobs in the home were gender specific. Some were not: cleaning the bathrooms, vacuuming, dusting, dishes. Some, most definitely were: mowing the lawn, weeding, cleaning the kitchen, dishes when guests were present. I'm sure you can guess which gender did which chore.
As I got older, I started to recognize these things as male privilege vs. female privilege. That is a whole other post which I will not venture into now. But, suffice it to say, I have been keenly aware of gender differences for a very long time. I started to feel bad about how attentively I focused on these differences until Dave and I started to discuss all of the other "those" women in church history. Biblically, Rebekah had to trick Isaac into giving the birthright to the "right" son, Jacob. Emma Smith was a wonderful support to Joseph and yet there were several times she disagreed with him, on some very big doctrinal issues. She also was a very powerful woman as the first Relief Society President. Then there was Eliza R. Snow and Mary Fielding Smith, just to name a few, and my favorite, Eve. The Lord needed an Adam, a person of obedience, in the Garden of Eden, and, he needed an Eve, a person who questioned. God needed both of them to further His plan. If not for Eve, they would still be in the Garden. They were equal partners with different responsibilities; a perfect balance between obedience and question.
I so believe that men and women are equal in importance in God's plan. I believe their differences are like two pieces in a puzzle, they fit together to form a perfect whole. I also believe church doctrine supports this philosophy. We are told again and again, in talk after talk, that women are equal to men, wives are equal to husbands. Unfortunately, many of our traditions, and church culture in general, seem to contradict this teaching, or at least they don't support it. For example, there are still stakes and wards where women are not invited to give the opening prayer in their sacrament meetings, even though it specifically states in the Church Handbook, given to every ward leader, men AND women should be invited to give both opening and closing prayers in any and all meetings. Yet, for 182 sessions of General Conference, there has never been a woman who has been invited to give either the invocation or the benediction. It's my understanding that there were letters written by several women to the Brethren pleading with them to invite a woman to offer a prayer in that very public setting. Many women felt that if women were invited to give prayers in General Conference, it would send a strong message. In a beautiful, meaningful, and quiet way, that request was granted. Saturday morning during the 183rd session of General Conference for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a woman offered the closing prayer. Then, on Sunday afternoon, a woman gave the opening prayer! Either the Brethren caved to the pressure of "those" women, or they decided that there had been an incorrect tradition that needed to change, or it was a revelation that the time had come to recognize women in a small, but important way. I have never known the Brethren to "cave" on anything. So, an historic decision was made.
When, they announced that a woman was giving the closing prayer, I cheered. Then, when she prayed (who is she? I don't even remember. It doesn't matter, really), I held Casey's hand and cried. History.
What was one of my favorite parts of General Conference? Without sarcasm, and without guile, one of my favorite parts was the historic invitation to a woman to offer up a prayer on behalf of us all, men and women, during a general conference of the church.
As a beautiful postscript, our Stake Conference was just held last weekend. Who gave the opening prayers at both the adult session on Saturday night, and the general session on Sunday morning? Women! Luckily, I have a wonderful Stake President who supports and loves "those" women.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
My Epiphany
I thought I was done with my blog. I haven't felt drawn to write for some time now. I certainly have had much on my mind, but I have been lucky enough to have not only my fabulous husband, Dave, to talk to, but amazing friends as well. These friends let me dive straight into the deepest end of any ocean (ok, pool, since I am afraid of open water swimming) and talk about anything and everything, including and most especially, topics most Mormons refuse to even think about much less discuss.
However, I feel like I have had such an epiphany in the last day or so that my mind is whirring. I have so much on my mind, I want to see if can put it in writing: to flesh out the specifics on my own before I have another discussion. Besides, in person, this would dominate the discussion for far too long.
I have a hard time sitting still, I have too much of my mother in me. I love to be very scheduled. It helps me feel like I am actively engaged in doing, in learning. I usually struggle finding the right balance of being just the right amount of busy, and the right amount of being available to be with my family. Usually I don’t find the line until I cross over it and find I am on the “much too busy” side of the line. Because of this need to always be working toward something, I’m always on the lookout for things that interest me. Over the last several years, I have pursued several different avenues of interest for me, only to have each door close one after another, again and again. I won't go into specifics here because it doesn't matter what they were. I had some time on my hands and was itching to fill it with the preparation I KNEW was going to be necessary for whatever was going to happen NEXT in my life. Then, this last year, it seemed like I was getting a more specific and pointed direction, perhaps from God, to "Be Still". One day, I was watching a show on television, and the lead singer of The Fray sang their new song, "Be Still", which hit me hard; it went right to my gut. Then, I went to church, and the song chosen for the congregation to sing was "Be Still My Soul"; again, a strong reaction. Soon after, a friend gave me the gift of a bracelet on which was engraved, yup, you guessed it, "Be Still and Know That I Am God". These are just three of many reminders. All coincidences? Yup, probably. But to me, it seemed like a message. It felt good when I thought about it, so I decided that God was trying to tell me something. I was pretty sure what it meant: "Be still and just be patient". I was sure something was coming. I speculated that maybe I needed to save up some energy because something big must be imminent. . . I was sure it was right around the corner. . . Any day now. . . um. . . Weeks went by, then months, then a year and still counting.
Then, the other morning it hit me, maybe the message isn't "Be still and be patient because something else is coming". Maybe the message has been "Be still and just appreciate where you are!" What a concept! It came rushing at me all at once how incredibly lucky I am! Almost without fail, every morning I get to run or bike with Dave. I get an hour of uninterrupted discussion along with the motivation to stay in shape. Twice a week, Casey, my oldest daughter, even joins us. Then, I get to walk my youngest daughter to her school since that is also where I work. We get to talk about the upcoming day and anything else on her mind. At work, I teach reading intervention to 21 students ranging from 1st grade to 4th grade. I adore my students and most of the time I enjoy trying desperately to help them learn to read. They are difficult, wonderful, frustrating, sweet, confusing, endearing, challenging children.
For a long time, it seemed like it wasn't enough. Since my degree and license are in a different field of education, I have felt like I should have been looking for a teaching position in that different field. However, I realized this morning that the benefits to this job are huge. I have no meetings I have to attend, no professional development that is required of me, no extended lesson plans to prepare, nothing to grade. Also, I get to come home every day at 12:00. My kids come home around 3:00, so I have three hours to myself every day.
I used to feel guilty about having this time on my hands. Surely, I should spend that time preparing for my next job, my next church calling, my next college degree, working on my music. Then I realized, right now, I have time to go to lunch with a friend, study scriptures, go to yoga class, go to the temple, work on finances, clean the house, practice the piano or sing (ok I don't practice, but I have time to if I want to), take a nap, read a book -- I've read book after delicious book -- prepare dinner since I'm loving to cook, not just bake, again. Then, when the kids come home, I have time to drive them to ballet, to violin, pick them up from an activity, take them to or pick them up from a friend's house. Then, when things settle down in the evening, we are all together as a family. We spend most nights like that, all together. Sometimes we watch a show, usually a Netflix series of the moment. Sometimes we are just home, hanging out together talking with and listening to each other. I get to do all of these things without worrying about homework from a class I'm taking, lesson plans to prepare for the next class I'm teaching, church callings that I just can't master.
I used to feel like if I didn't have something concrete to show for my time, I was failing. If I didn’t have a CD of finished music, another degree to my name, more worldly recognition, more, more, more, than I was being stagnant and lazy. I finally realized that right now, I get to be a teacher – it’s in my blood, who I am -- and more importantly, I get to be a mom. I love my relationships with my three girls. Being a mother is the best thing I have ever done, and the best thing I will ever do. I never want to lose focus of that again.
Best of all, with this extra time Dave and I have at night now (Dave used to have a busy church assignment which ate up a chunk of his time every week), we spend a TON of time together. We go anywhere and everywhere together. Most errands are done side by side. We also go out three times a week to catch a quick bite and just talk. We know each other top to bottom, inside and out, the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly. We know just about everything that there is to know about ourselves and each other. But then, of course, there is much more to discover, we just haven't unearthed it yet. He is my best and dearest friend.
I realized that I have everything, and yet for some reason, I still wanted more. How ungrateful. How foolish.
BE STILL. Oh, ok, now I get it. Nice!
Monday, November 19, 2012
The Night Circus - favorite quotes
"The bonfire ignites in an eruption of yellow flame.
Then the second chime follows, and they become a clear sky-blue.
A third chime with a third arrow, and the flames are a warm bright pink.
Flames the color of a ripe pumpkin follow the fourth arrow.
A fifth, and the flames are scarlet-red.
A sixth brings a deeper, sparkling crimson.
Seven, and the fire is soaked in a color like an incandescent wine.
Eight, and the flames are shimmering violet.
Nine, and violet shifts to indigo.
A tenth chime, a tenth arrow, and the bonfire turns deepest midnight blue.
On the penultimate chime, the dancing flames change from blue to black, and for the moment, it is difficult to discern the fire from its cauldron.
And on the final strike, the dark flames are replaced with a blinding white, a shower of sparks falling like snowflakes around it. Huge curls of dense white smoke swirl up into the night sky." pg. 120
"'Secrets have power,' Widget begins. 'And the power diminishes when they are shared, so they are best kept and kept well. Sharing secrets, real secrets, important ones, with even one other person, will change them. Writing them down is worse, because who can tell how many eyes might see them inscribed on paper, no matter how careful you might be with it. So it's really best to keep your secrets when you have them, for their own good, as well as yours.'" pg. 226
"'So by losing his secrets, the wizard gained immortality. His tree stood long after the clever young girl was old and no longer beautiful, and in a way, he became greater and stronger than he had ever been before. Though if he were given the chance to do it all over again, he likely would have been more careful with his secrets.'" pg. 228
"'Call me by my name,' he says. He has never heard her speak his name and holding her in his arms he suddenly craves the sound. 'Please,' he adds when she hesitates.
"'Marco,' she says, her voice low and soft. The sound of his name on her tongue is even more intoxicating than he had imagined, and he leans in to taste it." pg. 349
"'I've tried,' Marco says, cupping her face in his hands. 'I have tried to let you go and I cannot. I cannot stop thinking of you. I cannot stop dreaming about you. Do you not feel the same for me?'
"'I do,' Celia says. 'I have you here, all around me. I sit in the ice Garden to get a hint of this, this way that you make me feel. I felt it even before I knew who you were, and every time I think it could not possibly get any stronger, it does.'" pg. 352
"Inside, the train is opulent, gilded, and warm. Most of the passenger cars are lined with thick patterned carpets, upholstered in velvets in burgundies and violets and creams, as though they have been dipped in a sunset, hovering at twilight and holding on to the colors before they fade to midnight and stars." pg. 402
"It would be like pulling the Murray twins apart and expecting them to be the same. They would be whole but not complete." pg. 459
"'There are no more battles between good and evil, no monsters to slay, no maidens in need of rescue. Most maidens are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves in my experience, at least the ones worth something, in any case.'" pg. 497
"'They are the circus. You can hear his footsteps in the Labyrinth. You can smell her perfume in the Cloud Maze. It's marvelous.'
'You think being imprisoned marvelous?'
'It's a matter of perspective,' Widget says. 'They have each other. They are confined within a space that is remarkable, one that can, and will, grow and change around them. In a way, they have the world, bound only by his imagination.'" pg. 502
"'He was seeking immortality, which is a terrible thing to seek. It is not seeking anything, but rather avoiding the unavoidable. He will grow to despise that state if he does not already. I hope my student and your teacher are more fortunate.'
'You mean. . . you hope they can die?' Widget asks.
'I mean only that I hope they find darkness or paradise without fear of it, if they can.'" pg. 503
"'Someone needs to tell those tales. When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative. There's magic in that. It's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift. Your sister may be able to see the future, but you yourself can shape it, boy. Do not forget that.' He takes another sip of his wine. 'There are many kinds of magic, after all.'" pg. 505
Then the second chime follows, and they become a clear sky-blue.
A third chime with a third arrow, and the flames are a warm bright pink.
Flames the color of a ripe pumpkin follow the fourth arrow.
A fifth, and the flames are scarlet-red.
A sixth brings a deeper, sparkling crimson.
Seven, and the fire is soaked in a color like an incandescent wine.
Eight, and the flames are shimmering violet.
Nine, and violet shifts to indigo.
A tenth chime, a tenth arrow, and the bonfire turns deepest midnight blue.
On the penultimate chime, the dancing flames change from blue to black, and for the moment, it is difficult to discern the fire from its cauldron.
And on the final strike, the dark flames are replaced with a blinding white, a shower of sparks falling like snowflakes around it. Huge curls of dense white smoke swirl up into the night sky." pg. 120
"'Secrets have power,' Widget begins. 'And the power diminishes when they are shared, so they are best kept and kept well. Sharing secrets, real secrets, important ones, with even one other person, will change them. Writing them down is worse, because who can tell how many eyes might see them inscribed on paper, no matter how careful you might be with it. So it's really best to keep your secrets when you have them, for their own good, as well as yours.'" pg. 226
"'So by losing his secrets, the wizard gained immortality. His tree stood long after the clever young girl was old and no longer beautiful, and in a way, he became greater and stronger than he had ever been before. Though if he were given the chance to do it all over again, he likely would have been more careful with his secrets.'" pg. 228
"'Call me by my name,' he says. He has never heard her speak his name and holding her in his arms he suddenly craves the sound. 'Please,' he adds when she hesitates.
"'Marco,' she says, her voice low and soft. The sound of his name on her tongue is even more intoxicating than he had imagined, and he leans in to taste it." pg. 349
"'I've tried,' Marco says, cupping her face in his hands. 'I have tried to let you go and I cannot. I cannot stop thinking of you. I cannot stop dreaming about you. Do you not feel the same for me?'
"'I do,' Celia says. 'I have you here, all around me. I sit in the ice Garden to get a hint of this, this way that you make me feel. I felt it even before I knew who you were, and every time I think it could not possibly get any stronger, it does.'" pg. 352
"Inside, the train is opulent, gilded, and warm. Most of the passenger cars are lined with thick patterned carpets, upholstered in velvets in burgundies and violets and creams, as though they have been dipped in a sunset, hovering at twilight and holding on to the colors before they fade to midnight and stars." pg. 402
"It would be like pulling the Murray twins apart and expecting them to be the same. They would be whole but not complete." pg. 459
"'There are no more battles between good and evil, no monsters to slay, no maidens in need of rescue. Most maidens are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves in my experience, at least the ones worth something, in any case.'" pg. 497
"'They are the circus. You can hear his footsteps in the Labyrinth. You can smell her perfume in the Cloud Maze. It's marvelous.'
'You think being imprisoned marvelous?'
'It's a matter of perspective,' Widget says. 'They have each other. They are confined within a space that is remarkable, one that can, and will, grow and change around them. In a way, they have the world, bound only by his imagination.'" pg. 502
"'He was seeking immortality, which is a terrible thing to seek. It is not seeking anything, but rather avoiding the unavoidable. He will grow to despise that state if he does not already. I hope my student and your teacher are more fortunate.'
'You mean. . . you hope they can die?' Widget asks.
'I mean only that I hope they find darkness or paradise without fear of it, if they can.'" pg. 503
"'Someone needs to tell those tales. When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative. There's magic in that. It's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift. Your sister may be able to see the future, but you yourself can shape it, boy. Do not forget that.' He takes another sip of his wine. 'There are many kinds of magic, after all.'" pg. 505
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Happy 11th Birthday, Sage
She was born with it. It's a gift. A talent. Sage was born loving children. She is not only willing to help babysit little ones, she truly loves it, and them. She has always been drawn to those younger than she. She is chomping at the bit to be old enough to have babysitting jobs. I love how I can always volunteer to help a neighbor with emergency babysitting needs. I know that Sage will not only be willing, but eager to step right in and take over, which she consistently does. I get to just love the kids and Sage gets to be surrogate mom. When she was about 8 years old, as we talked about what to do for her birthday party, she said she wanted a separate party that she would plan and carry out all by herself for all of her much younger friends, which she did.
In addition to loving children, Sage also loves to organize. When she is in the right mood, she will organize anything: a closet, a drawer, her room. Not to say that her room is never a mess - it is - but everything is relative. A mess for her is not really very messy for a stereotypical tween from what I hear.
She also loves to create interesting hair styles for herself complete with intricate braids, twists and buns. She has done her own hair since the time she could hold a brush. Her school picture from pre-school at age 4, is of Sage sporting her own style created and realized on her own. Only on occasion, when she finds a style she wants to try that is just a little too intricate, will she ask me for help. It really is quite impressive.
She has her own sense of fashion as well. She is quite particular about what she thinks matches and complements. Dave has a pair of green sweats that he almost never wears, except to races so that if he doesn't end up getting them back in his drop bag, he is not bothered. One night several years ago, he happened to be wearing them when he went in to say good-night. He asked if he could give her a good-night kiss. She responded immediately and emphatically with, "Not if you're wearing those pants!"
Sage is very responsible, and teachable at school. It just about kills her to not turn in a homework assignment. When she has the right motivation from a caring teacher, she would move mountains to finish every task asked of her.
Sage is my buddy, my partner, my always willing companion when I visit a friend, go run an errand, or anything I need to do. She is very very social and loves to be with people, and most of the time, I will do. But, she sure loves time with her friends. They are more willing to play virtual school, or city, or even virtual church. Everything she creates, she creates big. She and her friend made up a dance, set up our backyard for the premier, created invitations and tickets, and provided refreshments for all who attended - it was a pretty exclusive list of attendees. That's just one example.
She has her own set of challenges and difficulties which includes the much practiced talent of annoying her sister, but Sage is a gift and a blessing to me, and most people who know her.
In addition to loving children, Sage also loves to organize. When she is in the right mood, she will organize anything: a closet, a drawer, her room. Not to say that her room is never a mess - it is - but everything is relative. A mess for her is not really very messy for a stereotypical tween from what I hear.
She also loves to create interesting hair styles for herself complete with intricate braids, twists and buns. She has done her own hair since the time she could hold a brush. Her school picture from pre-school at age 4, is of Sage sporting her own style created and realized on her own. Only on occasion, when she finds a style she wants to try that is just a little too intricate, will she ask me for help. It really is quite impressive.
She has her own sense of fashion as well. She is quite particular about what she thinks matches and complements. Dave has a pair of green sweats that he almost never wears, except to races so that if he doesn't end up getting them back in his drop bag, he is not bothered. One night several years ago, he happened to be wearing them when he went in to say good-night. He asked if he could give her a good-night kiss. She responded immediately and emphatically with, "Not if you're wearing those pants!"
Sage is very responsible, and teachable at school. It just about kills her to not turn in a homework assignment. When she has the right motivation from a caring teacher, she would move mountains to finish every task asked of her.
Sage is my buddy, my partner, my always willing companion when I visit a friend, go run an errand, or anything I need to do. She is very very social and loves to be with people, and most of the time, I will do. But, she sure loves time with her friends. They are more willing to play virtual school, or city, or even virtual church. Everything she creates, she creates big. She and her friend made up a dance, set up our backyard for the premier, created invitations and tickets, and provided refreshments for all who attended - it was a pretty exclusive list of attendees. That's just one example.
How to Lose 5 Pounds in One Day With No Drugs and No Exercise
Impossible, you say? No,
really. I tried this method myself last
Friday and found the claims to be completely accurate. You just need to follow these five easy (ok,
not quite easy) steps.
Step #1: Be so weak and sick that
you can barely move a muscle all day.
The one time you try to venure downstairs, you have to take a break on
the top of the stairs to sit down and moan, then you whimper down each step,
continuing until you finally reach your bed again and gratefully fall back into
bed.
Step #2: Throw up so many times
during the 24 (ok, 32) hours that the thought of food or liquid causes your
stomach to convulse and threaten to dry heave.
Step #3: Finally, successfully make
it downstairs when the kids come home from school where they gather around you
and watch hours and hours of "Bones" and "Say Yes to the
Dress", while you fade in and out of coherence. Luckily, um, or unluckily, the girls seemed
to like this step.
Step #4: Turn down a getaway with
your spouse the one, and only, time they plan one from beginning to end right
down to choosing and booking the hotel.
In Dave's defense, he claims to be the "Idea Man", and I'm in
charge of Operations.
Step #5: After a whole day of lying
immobile, you collapse into bed at 8:30 and sleep the sleep of the dead until
morning.
After the successful completion of all five steps, you wake up feeling 95%
better, and voila, 5 pound weight loss!
What's the first thing I did to celebrate my accomplishment of the
weight loss (and being able to stand up)?
I ate a handful of peanut M&M's.
I'm going to enjoy gaining back every ounce I lost. Speaking of which. . . I'm hungry.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Tiger Moon by Antonia Michaelis
I loved this book! LOVED LOVED LOVED it. The writing was immensely
beautiful. I won't use this space to describe the plot, I will just use
it to list the quotes that melted my heart. If you could see my book, I
have little napkin pieces marking my favorite pages throughout the
book. It looks like my book had a cold with as many tissues and napkins
sticking out of its openings.
"She was different from all the women Lalit knew. She cast her eyes down like a timid girl, but when he met her gaze for the first time, those same eyes gave him a shock. There was a glow in them, and a hissing, like drops of water falling into fire." pg. 14
"She cast her eyes down so as not to scorch her patient listener with the fire in them, and began her story." pg. 20
"He slept a refreshing, light, and dreamless sleep -- a sleep as blue as air."
"'He doesn't look at all like a hero,' said the young women, pulling their scarves over their faces when the stranger rode by. Not to protect themselves from the dust, and not to hide their beauty. Farhad knew they were hiding behind veils to preserve the illusion of beauty. The newcomer, who hadn't seen all those hooked noses and crooked teeth, could imagine them as perfect. He knew all about the tricks women played." pg. 94
"The day was blue. As blue as melancholy. A vague sadness weighed down on it, and fell on Raka's slender shoulders." pg. 156
"The first drops were joined by countless others, and, seconds later, water was cascading from the clouds as if someone had turned the ocean upside down and emptied it over the earth." pg. 171
"Farhad made himself go slowly through the water. If he tried to run, he'd scare the water, as Nitish would put it, and the talkative water would tell everyone he was running away." pg. 207
"The cows of India are sacred, but that doesn't mean that anyone feeds them. They wander city streets, live on garbage, and after a while they starve to death in a very sacred way." pg. 212
"The fire was spreading and, to the tiger's horror, it was growing. It was here, there, and everywhere. He tried to tread on it, but it bit his paw. He withdrew the paw and licked it in confusion." pg. 289-290
"Her lips were not like rose petals, not like silk and velvet, not like the tender colors of dawn over the desert, or like the breath of the evening wind.
"Her lips were as rough as her hands, rough from the desert sand.
"Lips like the storm that blinds you among the dunes, like the desert's unbearable heat, like the trunks of palm trees in the oases, like the blazing sun at noon, like the sky just before it darkens with the rain that so seldom comes.
"Raka did not withdraw.
"Lalit tasted all the colors of India in her mouth." pg. 302
"He put out the fire on his head, but the next moment he saw the fire climb down the shed. Now it began eating its way forward across the field like a greedy caterpillar." pg. 318
"'I'm not just any old tiger,' he replied. 'I'm a sacred tiger. The gods made me to run races with the wind. And you found me because it was my fate to carry you. Are you trying to tell me there's such a thing as coincidence in the world?'" pg. 357
"He took Farhad's shirt in his teeth, hauled him to his feet, and the storm attacked them again with all its might. But now they had a purpose. And even in a sandstorm, it's difficult to stop someone with a purpose." pg. 382
"Lalit and Lagan
Indian love is always taboo,
and smells of cardamom.
It tastes of chili, of spices, too.
Come, it says softly, come.
Indian love is red as rage
and deep, deep blue as sorrow.
It is not easy, it is not kind,
it may not see tomorrow.
In Indian gardens, Indian love
rustles like leaves in the wind.
And should two lovers in that grove
be both of the same mind,
the wind will have this tale to tell
of longing, grief, and death;
They loved not wisely but too well
they loved to their last breath." pg. 412
"She slipped out of Lalit's embrace like a fish." pg. 415
"As usual, everyone else was stronger than him. He had learned to serve, to obey, to avoid trouble, and no one had ever taught him to rebel. because there was no point in it, he told himself. Because rebels always lost out in the end." pg. 416
"'She is beautiful,' he whispered. 'Much more beautiful than in the picture in your amulet. But there's nothing soft and yielding about her beauty. She is wild as the desert, brave as a tiger, lonely as the sun, and timorous as the rain.'" pg. 423
"Lagan opened the door to the garden, and Raka went out into it one last time. the fragrance of the nocturnal flowers mingled with the moonlight, weaving invisible fabric to clothe her naked body." pg. 440
There are still so many more beautiful passages to quote. It is really a very well-written lovely book. It is perfect in its imperfection. This isn't a book that follows a formula to be sure.
"And so this story ends as it began.
"In chaos.
"In India." pg. 438
"She was different from all the women Lalit knew. She cast her eyes down like a timid girl, but when he met her gaze for the first time, those same eyes gave him a shock. There was a glow in them, and a hissing, like drops of water falling into fire." pg. 14
"She cast her eyes down so as not to scorch her patient listener with the fire in them, and began her story." pg. 20
"He slept a refreshing, light, and dreamless sleep -- a sleep as blue as air."
"'He doesn't look at all like a hero,' said the young women, pulling their scarves over their faces when the stranger rode by. Not to protect themselves from the dust, and not to hide their beauty. Farhad knew they were hiding behind veils to preserve the illusion of beauty. The newcomer, who hadn't seen all those hooked noses and crooked teeth, could imagine them as perfect. He knew all about the tricks women played." pg. 94
"The day was blue. As blue as melancholy. A vague sadness weighed down on it, and fell on Raka's slender shoulders." pg. 156
"The first drops were joined by countless others, and, seconds later, water was cascading from the clouds as if someone had turned the ocean upside down and emptied it over the earth." pg. 171
"Farhad made himself go slowly through the water. If he tried to run, he'd scare the water, as Nitish would put it, and the talkative water would tell everyone he was running away." pg. 207
"The cows of India are sacred, but that doesn't mean that anyone feeds them. They wander city streets, live on garbage, and after a while they starve to death in a very sacred way." pg. 212
"The fire was spreading and, to the tiger's horror, it was growing. It was here, there, and everywhere. He tried to tread on it, but it bit his paw. He withdrew the paw and licked it in confusion." pg. 289-290
"Her lips were not like rose petals, not like silk and velvet, not like the tender colors of dawn over the desert, or like the breath of the evening wind.
"Her lips were as rough as her hands, rough from the desert sand.
"Lips like the storm that blinds you among the dunes, like the desert's unbearable heat, like the trunks of palm trees in the oases, like the blazing sun at noon, like the sky just before it darkens with the rain that so seldom comes.
"Raka did not withdraw.
"Lalit tasted all the colors of India in her mouth." pg. 302
"He put out the fire on his head, but the next moment he saw the fire climb down the shed. Now it began eating its way forward across the field like a greedy caterpillar." pg. 318
"'I'm not just any old tiger,' he replied. 'I'm a sacred tiger. The gods made me to run races with the wind. And you found me because it was my fate to carry you. Are you trying to tell me there's such a thing as coincidence in the world?'" pg. 357
"He took Farhad's shirt in his teeth, hauled him to his feet, and the storm attacked them again with all its might. But now they had a purpose. And even in a sandstorm, it's difficult to stop someone with a purpose." pg. 382
"Lalit and Lagan
Indian love is always taboo,
and smells of cardamom.
It tastes of chili, of spices, too.
Come, it says softly, come.
Indian love is red as rage
and deep, deep blue as sorrow.
It is not easy, it is not kind,
it may not see tomorrow.
In Indian gardens, Indian love
rustles like leaves in the wind.
And should two lovers in that grove
be both of the same mind,
the wind will have this tale to tell
of longing, grief, and death;
They loved not wisely but too well
they loved to their last breath." pg. 412
"She slipped out of Lalit's embrace like a fish." pg. 415
"As usual, everyone else was stronger than him. He had learned to serve, to obey, to avoid trouble, and no one had ever taught him to rebel. because there was no point in it, he told himself. Because rebels always lost out in the end." pg. 416
"'She is beautiful,' he whispered. 'Much more beautiful than in the picture in your amulet. But there's nothing soft and yielding about her beauty. She is wild as the desert, brave as a tiger, lonely as the sun, and timorous as the rain.'" pg. 423
"Lagan opened the door to the garden, and Raka went out into it one last time. the fragrance of the nocturnal flowers mingled with the moonlight, weaving invisible fabric to clothe her naked body." pg. 440
There are still so many more beautiful passages to quote. It is really a very well-written lovely book. It is perfect in its imperfection. This isn't a book that follows a formula to be sure.
"And so this story ends as it began.
"In chaos.
"In India." pg. 438
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
I'm Sick
I'm sick. It's not the constantly throwing-up, "I think I'm gonna die" sick, it's just the "I don't have energy to do anything" sick. I am sitting here on my living room couch in one of the places in my house that has been unofficially dubbed "MINE" (at least by me), with Sage's blanket on my legs because of the slight chill I feel (on an 80 degree day mind you) and thinking. I have been reading the next book in the installment of books Casey has recently recommended to me, before and after a 10:30 am nap. Now one side of my hair is flat and lifeless, which is perfectly apropos for how I'm feeling. It's not a bad feeling at all, it is just devoid of any emotion or feeling. While I was reading, I was multi-tasking apparently, since I found myself simultaneously analyzing this physical sickness with the emotional sickness I felt several months ago.
With this particular illness, there is a long list of things of things that I want and need to do -- practice the piano and my voice since I have an upcoming recital, look up hotels in three different cities in Costa Rica since that's the one assignment I have been given for our upcoming trip, iron Dave's shirts and pants that are still hanging in the queue (have HIM do it you say, I actually don't mind ironing and I really like the way he looks in crisp shirts :) ), order a photo book from our last trip, organize and purge some files on my computers, and I ALWAYS need to work on our finances updating everything -- but I just don't have any energy. My mind is very willing, but my body says "NO". Well, it doesn't really say it like that, it mostly says, "no". With my emotional illness (YUK, I hate saying it like that), several months ago, there was still a long list of things I could do, but neither my mind nor my body had any desire whatsoever to do any item on any list.
So, I will sit here and write for a moment, but then I will read again and lose myself in the world of Kristin Cashore and wait patiently for strength to return, AND be extremely grateful that this time I have great confidence it will return very quickly. I have discovered that it is possible to enjoy the peace of waiting. It's easier to enjoy it when you don't have the strength or energy to do anything else. ;) Back to "Bitterblue" . . .
With this particular illness, there is a long list of things of things that I want and need to do -- practice the piano and my voice since I have an upcoming recital, look up hotels in three different cities in Costa Rica since that's the one assignment I have been given for our upcoming trip, iron Dave's shirts and pants that are still hanging in the queue (have HIM do it you say, I actually don't mind ironing and I really like the way he looks in crisp shirts :) ), order a photo book from our last trip, organize and purge some files on my computers, and I ALWAYS need to work on our finances updating everything -- but I just don't have any energy. My mind is very willing, but my body says "NO". Well, it doesn't really say it like that, it mostly says, "no". With my emotional illness (YUK, I hate saying it like that), several months ago, there was still a long list of things I could do, but neither my mind nor my body had any desire whatsoever to do any item on any list.
So, I will sit here and write for a moment, but then I will read again and lose myself in the world of Kristin Cashore and wait patiently for strength to return, AND be extremely grateful that this time I have great confidence it will return very quickly. I have discovered that it is possible to enjoy the peace of waiting. It's easier to enjoy it when you don't have the strength or energy to do anything else. ;) Back to "Bitterblue" . . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)