Category Archives: Reading

A Limit to Emotional Energy

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(from Margin by Richard Swenson, M.D.)

Each morning we rise to meet the day with a certain measure of emotional energy. A quantum of stamina….

This quantum of emotional energy is not fixed but instead is in constant flux with its environment. We are always losing energy into the environment and receiving energy back again….

Think in terms of those people who always  make you feel tired, or those activities that leave you energized.  This isn’t woo-woo New Age stuff– it’s within our own experience.

No matter how large or small the quantum of emotional energy is at the start of the day, and no matter how fast or slow it is exchanging with the environment, one thing is certain: The amount within us is finite. No one has an infinite capacity for emotional discharge….

We often have trouble accepting the idea of rationing our emotional energy. It is simply too difficult to quantify our feelings. We feel ashamed admitting that our spirit is exhausted and collapsing within us.

But our hesitancy in no way constitutes proof that such limits are only a convenient fiction for the weak and lazy.

Instead, our hesitancy is an obstacle to overcome.

Another Quote Round-up

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Do not let us mistake necessary evils for good.

–C.S. Lewis

Much of our activity is like the waves of the sea, going always and arriving never.

–Charlotte Mason, A Philosophy of Education

The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried.

–G.K. Chesterton

Do not pray for easy lives, but pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers, but pray for power equal to your tasks.

–Phillip Brooks

Humility

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Even knowing the pride is one of the things God hates most, and knowing that I wrestle with my own measure of that distasteful stuff, I will still talk about what bothers me in the general discussion of pride and humility (the topic seems to rise cyclically in Christian circles).

There are those who seem to fixate on how proud they are, knowing it’s something that’s hard to ever be free of they’re continually “confessing” it. (I’m more of the opinion that confession is to convict us and change things– not just to report the status quo– or to excuse the way you talk about things.)

And then there are those who speak of humility as though it were self-abasement (humiliation).

A more accurate description, really, is that humility is utter honesty– to see things as they truly are.

While I still feel that is a fine description, at church the pastor’s been talking about how humility has everything to do with our relationship to God, and I came across a quote this weekend that brings both these ideas together so well:

The true way to be humble is not to stoop until you are smaller than yourself, but to stand at your real hight against some higher nature that will show you what the real smallness of your greatness is.

—Phillip Brooks

Stories and Their Poems

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I love finding a poem that pairs just perfectly with a story I’m attached to.

It doesn’t happen a lot, but twice it has happened magically. Here are those two. (I still need to memorize the second one).

~

To preface Half a Blanket (It took some practice to say this one with a clear voice. My Grandfather was very dear to me).

The Little Boy and the Old Man— by Shel Silverstein

Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”
Said the little old man, “I do that too.”
The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”
“I do that too,” laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, “I often cry.”
The old man nodded, “So do I.”
“But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seems
Grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”
And he felt the touch of a wrinkled old hand.
“I know what you mean,” said the little old man.

From the book Poetry Speaks to Children, a poem by an anonymous Inuit poet and translated by Edward Field. It is the perfect companion to Raven and the Whale’s Burning Heart. It would also make a good transition piece between traditional Alaskan tales.

Magic Words

In the very earliest time,
when both people and animals lived on earth,
a person could become an animal if he wanted to
and an animal could become a human being.
Sometimes they were people
and sometimes they were animals
and there was no difference.
All spoke the same language.
That was the time when words were like magic.
The human mind had mysterious powers.
A word spoken by chance
might have strange consequences.
It would suddenly come alive
and what people wanted to happen could happen–
all you had to do was say it.
Nobody could explain this:
that’s the way it was.

Human Words

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I knew a blind man whom a surgeon helped to see.
The doctor never had a lover such as he.
It is in such a way that singers love composers.

–Calvin Miller
The Singer

I could say nearly the same thing about certain writers. Or, at least what they’ve written.

Being a Believer I feel a certain sense of… awkwardness? tentativeness? when I find that I quote human writers as quickly as I quote scripture.

Anyone who pokes around this blog very long knows I enjoy Story, and frequently interpret my experience through that prism.

As I’m sure I’ve said before, I see folktales as the ultimate distillation of human nature– the good and the bad– and am quite willing to use them as examples to make a point.

In Christian circles, however, this seems to be an iffy choice.

Once the topic of a wife’s influence came up, and the analogy of kings and queens. I eagerly added to the conversation that the image of a queen interceding with the king is a common theme in folklore. An older Christian woman seemed bothered by my choice of example.

“But where do you see that in Scripture?” she asked.

“Esther!” I replied after a blink, not sure if she was challenging me or just quizzing me.

I have a memory that seems wired for remembering quotes (or at least their essence) and turns of phrase. I frequently find myself using those words from other people– other writers– when attempting to best express myself.

Sometimes I remember the queen exchange, and I feel like I’m not supposed to be so attached to human words, Scripture being our only/ultimate authority and all that.

But then I figure, I’m human, and no one is expecting my words to be the oracles of God. Why should anyone assume I think another human’s words are?

Strengthening Marriages

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I’m just beginning to explore the website, but Smart Marriages has already given me a lot to think about.

I love the concept of specifically creating a project out of finding ways to strengthen marriages.

One idea that sounded both simple and effective was the celebration of anniversaries (to the same or greater extent as birthdays, for example) as one way to honor and promote marriage. Such a practical idea. And I’ve already got dozens of anniversaries in my PDA along with birthdays…

~ ~ ~

Here is a quote without a footnote, but very intriguing:

You need only do three things in this country to avoid poverty –
finish high school, marry before having a child, and marry after the age of 20. Only 8 percent of the families who do this are poor; 79 percent of those who fail to do this are poor.

William Galston, Clinton White House

What I Love About My Husband

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Kathy at Mudlark Tales did a post celebrating the details of her love for her husband, and I liked the idea so much I wanted to follow suit.

(If you find this kind of celebration cloying, obnoxious or anything else negative, please look at this recent post.)

Otherwise, I hope this list gives you warm-fuzzies, and inspires you to think of all the little things that add to your delight in the package-deal that is your husband.

What this exercise does is force one to notice details, and once that began, I remembered more and more. I expect to record more as I think of them, but they will probably go in my home journal, rather than here.

This list was such fun to make I could have kept going, but I decided to stop at 50.

  1. I love that he has a job he enjoys and is happy to go to.
  2. I love that he sets the alarm on his watch so he remembers to come home on time.
  3. I love how he provides for me to be home with the children.
  4. I love how he comes home and works along side me without complaint.
  5. I love the example he is to our children of working whole-heartedly at something. At everything.
  6. I love when he surprises me by saying just what I was thinking– before I do (especially to somebody I shouldn’t have said it to, but he could).
  7. I love how he can follow my convoluted way of thinking without getting lost.
  8. I love how he listens to me to let me process; how he invites it (“Tell me about your day”).
  9. I love how he is actually engaged while he does this, and gives me the feedback I need to refine faulty ideas.
  10. I love to hear him laugh when he’s reading a book I gave him that I have enjoyed.
  11. I love to hear him read aloud something that struck him, and seeing how his mind works.
  12. I love how he can fix anything.
  13. I love how gently he ignores the world’s opinion– the way he is absolutely un-vested in any stranger’s opinion of him.
  14. I love how he asks me for more details.
  15. I love how he sings with his whole heart, even though he doesn’t have a trained voice.
  16. I love how he began the tradition of creating silly songs at bedtime, making up nonsense while I was still stuck on how I sounded instead of focusing on my children’s delight.
  17. I love how he tells me exactly what he’s thinking.
  18. I love knowing he loves me enough I never have to be afraid of what he’s thinking.
  19. I love that he notices whatever I’ve gotten done on the house, even if it’s not all clean when he gets home.
  20. I love how he enjoys everything I cook.
  21. I love how he doesn’t complain about my picky eating and knows he got a special treat when I make him something I’m not fond of (e.g. lasagna).
  22. I love that he shares my passion for ice cream.
  23. I love that he never talks about weight or exercise while we’re enjoying it.
  24. I’m so thankful he is a left-overs eater.
  25. That he values my opinion.
  26. That he trusts my judgment (sometimes more than I do).
  27. That he believes my instincts.
  28. That he is concerned with self-improvement.
  29. I love how there has never been a joke in my house about how I look in the morning.
  30. I love how he plays with our kids.
  31. I love the look on his face when he walks in to show me he got the baby to sleep.
  32. I love the look on his face when he watches me in the mirror.
  33. I love how he matches his rhythm and stride to mine whenever we walk together.
  34. I love that he drives most of the time, because I hate to drive.
  35. I love that he doesn’t complain when I drive.
  36. I love having him as my own personal furnace to pre-warm the bed each night .
  37. I love that he lets me put my cold feet on him.
  38. I love how he notices when I take extra effort with my clothes, hair or make-up, and compliments me.
  39. I love how he’ll cut the last slice from the loaf of homemade bread and take the heel to leave the slice for me. (If I’m in the room he’ll look over at me and say “I love you” when he does it.)
  40. I am thankful he doesn’t complain about how much money I spend on books.
  41. I appreciate so. much. that he will eat one-handed (i.e., with the baby) so I don’t have to.
  42. He read my novel. In it’s original, unedited, post-NaNo form. Sure, this was something of a trust-exercise on my part, but it was also a tribute to his worthiness of that trust.
  43. He liked my novel, but also had incredibly useful and constructive things to say. (My current version is massively influenced and improved by two of his three general suggestions.)
  44. He was upset that it wasn’t all written yet. This is just the coolest thing to a writer: that a reader would want more.
  45. I love how patiently he endured my brainstorming about the pattern I am designing, letting me talk until the time I could actually start drawing and cutting and sewing.
  46. I love how like-minded we are. How there are so few things to argue about because we agree on all the big things already.
  47. I love the sense of security and confidence I feel just having him around.
  48. I love how it’s sometimes hard to make birthdays or special days extra special because we’re already doing nice things on normal days.
  49. I like it that he still tries.
  50. I love that he likes to be with me, and misses me when he’s gone.

There is a quote from Jane Eyre that summarizes very well my feelings about my relationship with Jay.

To be together is for us to be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company… to talk to each other is but a more animated and audible thinking.

All my confidence is bestowed on him, all his confidence is devoted to me; we are precisely suited in character– perfect concord is the result.

Fighting in Marriage

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I was Stumbling around and came across these rules for fighting fair in marriage.

Because of my background, very little on this topic is ever new to me, I’ve been around the material so long it begins to all sound familiar (in the same way that few sermons are very new to me).

I think you music types get this feeling when you’re familiar with a composer.

Anyway, I wanted to highlight it, because I thought the article was well done, and because one thought was wholly new to me:

5. If your spouse says you do, then it’s true
When confronted with an issue, your first response may be to hide behind statements such as, “No I don’t” or “You’re just exaggerating.” When your mate states that you’re doing something irritating, trust him or her. Consciously choose to look past your defensive walls and ask your spouse, “Why does this bother you?” Then listen to what is being said. Try to see his or her point of view, and be willing to change for the good of your marriage.

Just something new for me to think about.

A Poem

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My Work
Henry Van Dyke

Let me do my work from day to day,
In fields or forests, at the desk or loom,
In roaring market place or tranquil room.
Let me find it in my heart to say,
When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,
“This is my work – my blessing, not my doom –
Of all who live I am the only one by whom
this work can best be done in my own way.”
Then I shall see it, not too great or small,
To suit my spirit and arouse my powers.
Then shall I cheerfully greet the laboring hours,
And cheerfully turn, when long shadows fall
at eventide, to play and love and rest,
Because I know for me my work was best.

 

Great exchange from a good book.

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I just finished reading The Light of Eidon, one of the books I got this weekend from the library.

It is an intriguing addition to the world of allegorical fantasy, and pretty well carried off.

In an attempt to share my favorite segment from the book, I have to share the framework of the story, so if you think you wouldn’t guess the spiritual end of the protagonist (Abramm) consider this your spoiler warning.

~ ~ ~

Abramm, known as “The Pretender” for the two years he was a gladiator, is newly converted to the faith of “the dying god,” and faces a 200-year-old warrior king in mortal combat.

With only 1-percent of his opponent’s experience, Abramm knows there is no natural reason he should even survive, much less triumph.

He advances, praying this act of his infant faith really is Eidon’s will.  If it is, Abramm trusts that somehow his God will fight for him.

The king, Beltha’adi, is preternaturally sustained in his prime by the malevolent power that he worships, and obviously considers himself immortal.

The fight is not over swiftly, and surprisingly it is Abramm that lets the first blood.

…only a tiny cut, but Beltha’adi lurched back with a curse. It wasn’t from the pain, but from the indignity of of being the first one blooded– him who had expected not to be blooded at all.

They circled again.

“You’re good Pretender,” Beltha’adi grated, “but you’re only flesh. And flesh isn’t good enough to stand against a god.”

Abramm kept his gaze fixed on Beltha’adi’s.

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”

Best line in the whole book (not to diminish the book).

Loved it.