I know that the following rant is partly my own fault for choosing to go to a church that is significantly more conservative than me. Usually it is fine, and I feel that for various reasons it is the right place to be, but today I just got annoyed! Reading the bible through a modern world lens, is not automatically right, and post-modern lens wrong. The bible was written in a pre-modern world, and when looking at it we should remember that and start there, then see how that helps us understand it, whether that is in a modern or postmodern way of thinking. Whenever we look at the bible we automatically place a lens over it, like a colour filter that means that we can see somethings clearly and other things not. These lens are slightly different for all of us, and will be influenced by many factors. We need to remember that we all put these lens on, and that it is only as we except this and share with others what we are seeing that we begin to see more of the picture.
This summer I have been here there and everywhere, and have seen more of my family than usual. When I was down South I spent some time with my Grandma, who is 91 and still lives at home, but with Mum doing a lot for her, sometimes to much I think. She really enjoyed the fact I’d let her do what she liked, including a trip to M&S to have a wander around, and eat cake.
I’ve now spent some time with my parents on holiday in the North of Scotland. It’s lovely to see them, but for different reasons they both drive me up the wall. I was also reminded that they are getting older which worries me about the future. Mum (who’s 65), is determined that she is old and everything is a problem. I dread to think about the future with her, as there is to a certain extent in my family and expectation that daughters will look after there parents when they get old. Dad (who’s 70) on the other hand, I was aware was getting older, as he is getting slightly slower and has more aches and pains, which he is refusing to tell Mum about, and only told me about because I was trying to walk to fast. I was aware of how far away from they live, and also how personality clashes, would make it difficult for me to be of any use anyway. It’s more a nag at the back of my brain, and hopefully it won’t be come a real issue for a few years yet.
Week 2 of dice games. My prompt this week was, There’s a suspected murderer next door.
Rachel looked out the window wishing something would happen, anything really. Life had been so dull since Poppy went away. She really hoped that Poppys parents relented and let her come back soon. But even if that happened she wasn’t sure that her parents would let her be friends with Poppy anymore. Something about being bad for each other. It was just that with Poppy by her side Rachel felt more confident, able to see more than she would normally. Rachel and Poppys parents called it meddling where they didn’t belong, but Rachel and Poppy had been so sure that they were on to something, that they weren’t just being “pesky kids.” Just because they parents had watched too much Scooby doo, Rachel and Poopy were paying the consequence.
Rachel and Poopy sat in the tree housing, legs swinging over the side of the platform. They loved it, being able to see what was happening, to feel the freedom, not to have grown ups snooping, listening to their every word. It was from here that they had started to watch Mr Smith next door. Rachels mum had told them not to annoy him, that he was sad because his wife had died and he was all alone now. But Rachel and Poppy thought that he was all alone because he was so mean. They watched him grumble at the postman. They had seen him send away the boys who just wanted there ball back. He had shouted at them telling them that they should have been more careful, that no one went in his garden, no one was even to see in his garden. Well that was what Mr Smith thought, he didn’t know that the girls were sitting high up in the tree, seeing all, but unseen. The high wall didn’t stop them from seeing all. They saw Mr Smith sat looking at the big square stone at the end of the garden. It looked like a grave stone. Rachel and Poopy were sure that was what it was, that he must have his wife buried there. As they talked they started to wonder if that was where she really was buried? Why was he so protective of the garden?
They had such a good view of the garden. They had seen the immaculate lawn, which he mowed weekly to make sure that it was in beautiful lines. The flower beds that were show perfect. But off to one side there were other things, maybe the things that stopped Mr Smith letting people in. Maybe that was what he was trying to hide. They had watched as he dug a deep and long trench. They had speculated what it was for. They were sure that he was digging another grave. What else could be that shape or size? They could think of nothing else that would need him to have trench like that.
One day much to Rachel and Poopys amazement they had seen Mr Smith in the garden with a female who looked so beautiful, like a princess. Rachel and Poopy thought that they had never seen anyone so beautiful. Mr Smith had looked so happy, he looked younger when he smiled. Maybe he wasn’t so scary after all. Rachel and Poopy had left there view point that day, to get a snack. When they returned Mr Smith did not look happy. In fact he looked very mad, they could just here him shouting at her. “you are dead, I will never see you again.” They had seen her run in to the house followed by Mr Smith. Next day they watched as Mr Smith filled in the trench, they had watched as he made a bonfire first of weeds and leaves, but then they had seen him bring out clothes and put them on there. They had watched as he put what looked like a young womens clothes on the fire, as he had wiped away a tear. They knew they had to tell somebody, but who? Their parents would just tell them off, tell them that they should stop making up stories. How could they make sure they were believed? They needed evidence, they needed to get in and find something…….
That was when all the trouble had really started. They knew that if they could just get evidence that people would believe them. They had sneaked into the garden with little problem, and even found somewhere to hide no problem, but working out how to get the end of the clothes that they could see wouldn’t burnt without being seen, defeated them for a long time. They kept thinking it would be ok, then Mr Smith would come and sit in the garden again. After dark they crept out and picked up the piece of material they could see. Then running they thought for their lives, or so they thought. They had decided that now was the time to tell the police, surely they would be taken seriously now that they had evidence. They had felt so let down, they made it to the police station but the police seemed to think that they were making things up, and had just tossed away the material, but had been more worried about returning them to their very worried parents. That was when their parents had said no more, they were a bad influence on each other and weren’t to see each other anymore. It felt like weeks even though Rachel knew that it had only been a few days. Sighing Rachel went to pick up the paper for her mum, looking at the front page she read the headline missing, and saw a photo of the girl from the garden.
Day 6 of the blog challenge and I am feeling less inspired.
Really you want what I have? You want the houses? The cars? The money? The luxury? You sure you want my life? Do you really want to look beyond the glamour and glitz? Do you want to look beyond the beautiful dresses, the make-up artists that make me look to everyone else beautiful? Well do you want to see what it is that you think you want? Do you want to never be able to leave the house without someone commenting on what you are wearing? To never know when your private life will stop being private? To have people believe lies about you? Is that really what you want?
We all have tough days but learning to survive them gives us the confidence we need to face the next one. I commented this to somebody the other day, and was reminded how much I need to hear that. Looking back makes us realise how much we have grown and learnt from past experiences, and that anything that is happening now is going to be added to our experience to deal with future life experiences. I don’t think this necessarily makes life in the future easier, we just realise that we have the ability to cope better with a great range of situations.
At the moment I’m going slightly up the wall. It’s one of those moments when life contrives to make me go slightly mad with lack of brain usage. I think the moment I used my brain at work the most today, was when I remembered the colours of the different engines in Thomas and friends (or for those who are old like me The Railway Stories.) Amongst the conversations I held yesterday both at work and outside of work, was which hair dye works the best and at what age can a baby start to drink from a cup not a bottle? None of these are conversations I mind holding, but I feel I need to hold one or two which exercise my brain slightly more! I just feel that I am living in a world that is slightly different from those around me. I just feel like I want to use my brain and don’t know how to. I go through fazes like this, which is why I think I enjoy studying so much, as I’m not good at engaging with written material which makes me think, unless I have to and then I enjoy it. This is partly due to laziness and partly due to dyslexia. At these times it’s good for me to meet up with people who will at least make me use my brain a wee bit in conversation. However due to different factors coming together, I am for a few weeks working lots, but not anything that uses my brain much, and therefore when I have the chance to be at home I need to be around, due to the situation where I am living, so can’t go out for bigger chunks which meeting up with various friends requires, partly due to location. Life will improve I know but in the meantime, having a space to moan is good.
I have been using my brain on other things, but not really in my interaction with others. Those of you who are regular readers of this blog with know that I have twice written first drafts of novels thanks to the inspiration of NaNoWriMo, well this April for the first time I am participating in the sister event Script Frenzy. I have never even thought about writing a script before, and am amazed at how much I am enjoying it. I think I may be enjoying the creative process involved more than that in novel writing. It is forcing me to think through how dialogue and actions, can be used to create feelings and emotions. When novel writing, while you paint a picture of what is happening, you can say how this or that makes the characters feel. When script writing you have to make people feel that, without them being told. You have to develop fuller characters by what they do and say. It is really helping me to think through how to build good and believable characters. The lessons I learn I hope will transfer to my novel writing as well.
Tonight I was out for a meal with my brother and sister in law, and I asked the question “If you had a super-power, what would be the point of being able to turn anything to jelly?” To which my brother straight away replied “You could turn a speeding bullet into jelly it wouldn’t hurt you.” We then went on to discus how useful turning things to jelly could be as a super-power. It reminded me that we often think things are useless, pointless or even a hindrance, but if we just thought differently we could see the potential of how yes it’s different answer to the problem than we were expecting, but it’s still a good answer.
I’m having one of those moments when my brain is a jumble of thoughts, and I’m not quite sure what will come out as I write, but we shall see! Life continues to bumble along, without ever really sorting its self, and with others lives regularly crashing crises into it, which I can’t fix but want to. It feels like nothing is settled in life, like I’ve thrown up all the pieces and am standing waiting to catch at least one piece and put it in place, but in the mean time I’m getting distracted as a watch one or two people heading for train crashes while they may or may not be looking, which may or may not be of their own making. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve been in those crashes or not I can’t stop others from repeating them just from a slightly different angle. As well as trying to throw and catch pieces, stop others from train crashes, I’m also trying to steer my own train towards some points which I’m not sure if they are going to be moved so I can go down one track or the other, at the moment I’m not even sure which track I want to be on, or how soon I’ll reach these points. Also the pieces I’ve thrown up will they stay above the train in some suspension of the laws of physics or will they land where I was, so that I need to find new pieces where the train has now reached.
If you understood this your doing better than me!
I have too much time on my hands, as one of my friends told me when I commented that I had been reading up on Guatemalan Quaker worship. There are lots of things I should be doing, but all require myself to motivate myself, and self-motivation is something that I am much lacking at the moment. My brain therefore instead of thinking on things it should do, has felt that it should run free, start earthquakes, push at walls to see what happens, and generally cause as much chaos as possible. I have hinted at this in my previous two blogs this week. Following a conversation, which is best described as the final push in my thinking, I realised that what I meant by a word was not the same as the person using it, as it was something that to me had more significance than to most I struggled. This however sent my brain spinning down the how do we ever know that our meaning of words is the same as anyone. This led to lots of thinking about our everyday interactions, and our ability to hurt others without meaning to. But also took me to the how can we ever know anything about anything world. Including how can we ever know that anything we say is understood correctly, and that anything we hear/ read we have understood as the communicator expects us to? This lack of shared understanding becomes more difficult the more barriers such as different culture, social status, nationality and time that are in the communication. This then led me to a world where I renewed my questioning of how we could hope to overcome all these barriers when looking at the Bible. Also I then started to think about how we have to rely on others to help us, and how are we to know we are understanding then correctly, before we even start to understand there agenda? It probably didn’t help that a few weeks ago just for fun I had started reading about realist and anti-realist views of truth, and how this affects are view of God!
The north pole, has well always been in the arctic, at the top, generally where the north pole should be, so that the rest of the world made sense. I was quiet happy with z and y must be true, because the north pole is where it should be. However I think someone has moved the north pole. It feels like I’m trying to make z and y true, but what these statements were built on is no longer true. Unfortunately this leads to everything being questionable. As I walk the land is no longer stationary. I use to walk along, and admire the view, certain that I could return to refresh my memory if need. I did not expect to find that the earth was moving as I walked. That the certainties would disappear, and that I would be left wondering what is true? Is there even such a concept. Is who I am, who I want to be? If not why not? What makes me, me? Is it even possible to change that if I want to? Should I treasure the questions or search for answers?