A New Year

Tomorrow is New Years Day.  I am overwhelmed with many  thoughts, inspirations, and anticipations.  Our life during the past couple of years have been full of uncertainty, but at the same time, we have been pressing on towards a certain goal the whole time.  Our lives will change dramatically this year as these goals will come to fruition.

This will present new challenges since my boys are 12 and 14, they love their lives and friends right now, and don't want too much to change. 

For myself, I think of Duke Leto from Dune.  Before leaving his home planet which is predominately water, for the desert planet he tells his son, "I'll miss the sea, but a person needs new experiences. They jar something deep inside, allowing him to grow. Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken!"  
I think this is true.  Without change, something does sleep inside of us.  I have been asleep for far too long.  I long for change, for a new horizon, for the unknown.  Suburbia has caused me to slumber, and this sense of preparing for a life change has stirred me. 
This new year fills me with promise, hope and yes, to be honest, a little anxiety! 

I couldn't put it better than Bono from U2... "I will begin again"  Not sure about what my resolutions will be, but I am sure they will follow.

Part Deux - The story

The Snow Queen was beautiful and dangerous and terrifying all at the same time.  Her icy grip was intriguing.  Despite the  knowledge of certain doom, very few people had the power to resist her irrepressible allure.  Of course the girl, whose name was Rain, was one of those people.  She could resist the ice grip, because she had danced in the sunshine before.  She walked in the warm moonlit forest and had tasted the love of life.  She had no care for something cold to touch her.
It made her heart ache when she started seeing despair and hopelessness all around her.  When she started noticing all the people with icy hearts and frozen eyes and the pain it caused, she wanted to help.  Most of the problems were caused by all of those icy shards which were getting stuck in people's hearts and eyes.  By this time, the shards had been getting stuck in people's brains too.  This was causing all  kinds of disturbances and mayhem.  Imagine how the ice shards could mess up people's thought patterns.
Rain wanted to help these people.  She listened to them pour their heart out.  She loved them and she wanted to help.  Mostly she realized that just being there and listening would help melt the shards.  And tears.  Tears melted  the shards too, especially the really big ones.  But it was difficult for her, even if she didn't admit it.  Everytime she would listen and open up her heart, take on the pain and misery, it wore her down a little.   But she didn't mind.  It was what she wanted to do.  Seeing so many in misery, she wanted to help them in any way she could. She wanted to show them how much better the sunshine and warmth was.  The wearing down was so gradual, that she didn't notice it.  Of course, there was always a danger of ice getting stuck in her too.  A few times she actually saw pieces of ice flying around, trying to icify her heart, and eyes, and mind, but they were no match for her.  She could evade them or catch them and melt them with her fingers.  She felt it was her special gift.  Her special power.  She became a little conceited about it, in fact.  She thought nothing could affect her and change her.  She even started calling herself a special name.
While this was all happening, the Snow Queen noticed Rain.  Normally, she enjoyed getting hold of more flashy people.  Rain was not that type of girl.  She was a little odd, a little quiet, didn't mind being alone, and really didn't like attention in a crowd.  But now, the Snow Queen not only noticed her, but grew angry with her.  It was because Rain was getting people to de-icify.  See, the Snow Queen did not create the ice mirror, but she delighted in the affects it caused.  And once the ice shards touched a person, her job was SO much easier.  She could descend on a person, breathe her icy breath on them, and they would be her prisoner.  Once she had them captured, she would whisk them away, and bring them to her Ice Castle.  There, they would serve her until slowly they would become so frozen, they would become ice statues in her courtyard.  You would think she would run out of room with all these ice people statues filling up her castle, but since ice is an unlimited resource, she kept building on, so the castle was a neverending labyrinth of rooms which held these statues.  It made the Snow Queen quite happy.  And now, the Snow Queen wanted another statue. She wanted a Rain statue.

The Holy Hour

I recently heard someone say that there are reasons why you like the songs you like, why you connect to different characters in stories and comic books.  This is one of my favorite songs.  I listen to it when I am sad.  I don't know if this means I am a melancholy person or not.  The song is frustrating and sad and beautiful. A psychologists could probably analyze it though and come up with some understanding...



I sit and listen dreamlessly
A promise of salvation makes me stay
Then look at your face
And feel my heart pushed in
As all around the children play
The games they tired of yesterday
They play
They play

I stand and hear my voice
Cry out
A wordless scream at ancient power
It breaks against stone
I softly leave you crying
I cannot hold what you devour
The sacrifice of penance
In the holy hour.

The Charles Dicken's Girl

In a way, I think I lucked out.  I was born to a father who exposed me to fine music (and made sure I learned music theory), fine art, classic literature, and a love for nature. He did something else for me too, although it is tied into the classic literature part.  He put the desire in my heart to be a certain type of girl.  I guess it began when he named me Rebekah. He gave me my name because he loved how the biblical Rebekah had a servant's heart.  When she saw a tired man wearied from a long journey in need of water, she not only provided him with water, but took care of his animals as well.  He wanted me to be that type of girl.  A girl who notices those in need and does what she can to bring them relief.  He spoke about the Charles Dicken's Girl, as well.

If anyone reads any of Dicken's novels, amidst the intricate web of relationships, social concern, politics, and intrigue, there is a great character study going on.  One of the re-occuring characters is a particular girl.  This girl is sweet, humble, good, beautiful (but not only or always physically), smart, and emanates a spirit of light to everyone.  Reading these novels, I have always been inspired to be more like Agnes, Rose, Dorritt and Esther. (Concerning beauty, Esther from Bleak House, became more beautiful after her face was scarred from small pox.  She actually changed the standard of beauty by her beautiful inner soul.)
This archetype  was inspired by a real girl in Dicken's life.  He was in a cold marriage to a woman with whom he had lots of children.   Her younger sister came to help with the household. She also became a confidant to him and he shared his writings with her.  He valued her opinion more than anyone else's.   She lived with them for three years, and suddenly died when she was 17. Charles took a ring from her finger and wore it for the rest of his life in memory of her.  Of course, I realize, he probably idolized her after she died and created a character larger and more beautiful than anyone in life can be.
That doesn't mean that it is wrong to try to live up to such an ideal.
I don't come close, of course.  I am a wretched person most of the time.  And very selfish.  But that is the value of reading classic literature.  Seeing the deep themes which affect human nature.  Being inspired by selfless acts and strong characters.  Becoming concerned with the child who society has wronged.  Trying to be better than you are.  I want to be like Agnes.  And I will make every effort NEVER to be like Estella, or worse Mrs.  Haversham!!!
That is the value of  reading a good Dickens novel!

Thoughts on war....

I think this may be an ongoing theme that I will write about.


I am trying to figure out what I really think and believe about war.  Once favoring pacifism, I am not sure what I think right now.  I do know that the reality:  there are men and women stationed all over the world for our country, fighting for freedom and all, and they need support.  And there are extremely evil people who take advantage of the weak.


I think the saddest movie I have ever seen is  "All Quiet on the Western Front".  My father made me watch it when I was pretty young, probably around 11 or 12.  I was so mad at him afterwards.  I think it was the first movie which I literally sobbed while watching it.  (the next one was probably Born on the Fourth of July).  It was a devastatingly realistic view of war. 


I think this stark realism is why so many people are fascinated with the history of wars.  It is real, it is not pretty, but somehow men are pushed to act courageously, even if they are not that type of person in civilian life.  When I taught middle school, I knew that to engage several of the boys in an intellectual conversation, all it took was to start talking about war... any war.  My dad was always fascinated with World War I.  My brother Luke is a World War 2 buff.  My brother Matt would rather program a computer.  Well, he enjoys reading about medieval fantasy war such as is written by Stephen Lawhead. My husband plays hours of Call of Duty every day.  So do my two boys.


I guess the reason I am really writing about this is that my husband has applied to the military in the hopes of becoming a chaplain.  If he is accepted, he will not carry a gun.  He will be trained to be a support to those soldiers in trouble and as a morale booster.  If anyone was made for this job, he is.   Since in this world, war seems inevitable, it means that there are men and women who are subjected to the horrors of it.  So, to be able to help, aid and love them is a worthy cause.   I am proud of him for his endeavors, and hope that he does not get his wish to die a glorious death while he is still young.


As far as fighting evil and those who would oppress and hurt the weak.... war may be necessary.  If that is really why the war is going on.  Like in the Lord of the Rings.  Aragorn had no choice but to bring his armies to Mordor to fight the evil and darkness which would cover the land.  Even with inevitable loss and no hope to win, they fought.


A quote which spoke to me ...“It’s not glorious, it’s not beautiful, it’s not even heroic. It’s just what’s right.”  Owls of Ga'hoole quote

Ramble On...

I like the word Ramble...... 
The dictionary says that the word ramble means to take a leisurely walk in the country, to talk or write without much direction, to meander.   But it means a lot more than that to me. 

So I give Ramble my own definition:  to wander on without direction, wherever the road may take you.  To be a gypsy of sorts.
I use to think that my husband was The Rambler... like in this old song.

He couldn't stay put for more than a few minutes.   And I just went wherever he went.  We moved a lot in our first 10 years of marriage.  Ten times, actually.  We started out in Nyack, NY, moved to Wisconsin and moved from town to town, and then moved to New Hampshire, meandering around that exquisite state.  For the past 6 years we have been stuck in North Carolina.  I say stuck because we can't move anywhere.  We tried.  Multiple times.  Blame the economy, blame fate, blame Providence.  Whatever.  This being stuck in limbo has brought the realization to myself  that I like to ramble too..   I like change, a new town, unpacking and discovering new places and meeting new people.  Am I unAmerican for that?  There are many people who would like to live in the same house their whole life.  To have the type of stability of knowing everyone in town, being close to family, knowing what to expect.

Anyway Led Zeppelin's Ramble On  speaks to me:

I will end with part of a poem by Robert Service, one of my favorite poets.  His poems were about death,  war, and the desolation of brave explorers of a time past.  He doesn't write about false love, but other desires that push a man to make his mark. 

Men Who Don't Fit In

There's A race of men that don't fit in,
A race that can't stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don't know how to rest.
If they just went straight they might go far,
They are strong and brave and true;
But they're always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: "Could I find my proper groove, What a deep mark I would make!"
So they chop and change, and each fresh move Is only a fresh mistake.
And each forgets, as he strips and runs
 With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones
 Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
 Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that's dead,
 In the glare of the truth at last.
He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
 He has just done things by half.
Life's been a jolly good joke on him,
 And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha!  He is one of the Legion Lost;
 He was never meant to win;
He's a rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;
 He's a man who won't fit in.