Sheep or wolf...

One of my favorite television series is Grimm. 

I think I could watch it all day, over and over, and never get bored. Ha. 

As part of each episode's opening, a quote from an ancient(?) text is shared.

Episode 5 in Season 2 is entitled The Good Shephard.

The Good Shephard opens with this quote from an Aesop fable: 

"Dressed in the skin, the Wolf strolled into the pasture with the Sheep. Soon a little Lamb was following him about and was quickly led away to slaughter." 

~The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing by Aesop

I read it and asked myself, "Would I rather be the wolf or the sheep?"

I'd rather be the sheep.

Hubby answered the same.

In American culture (and I guess in other cultures too), the label "sheep" is used as a derogatory term for people who are (by othering) deemed ignorant, stupid, willing to readily follow, brainwashed, unable to think for or defend themselves. 

And part of those characteristics are true of sheep.

Sheep do follow the leader, even right off a cliff. (Son witnessed this while in Iceland.) 

Sheep in a domestic herd are dependent upon their shepherd, not unlike most domesticated animals who are dependent upon their keepers. 

What would happen to the sheep if a few escaped from the herd?

Would they be able to fend for themselves in the wild?

Thinking about sheep brings to mind a film I watched yesterday which was published on 12/25/24 (on YouTube for free):  Things Hidden: The Life and Legacy of René Girard / Full Length Documentary

I was introduced to Girard's work around March of 2007 via a small online Christian Universalist forum.

Some of us on the forum participated in a book study about Girard's book, I See Satan Fall Like Lightning. 

Though it is the only Girard book that I've read and studied, it had a profound impact on my life.

I could see the scapegoating mechanism and what Girard coined "mimetic desire" in culture, in history, and in my own personal life, especially what I was experiencing at that time. 

I found/find Girard's work interesting and thought provoking and his insight into human behavior, rivalry, and imitation worth deep consideration.

I've been interested in human behavior since my teen years.

I've often said, "Humans behave the way we do for reasons, sometimes unknown even to ourselves."

In the film, Girard talks about one difference between humans and animals.

Animals (typically?) do not fight to the death with their opponent within their own species.

One animal always gives up before death, granting dominance to his competition.

Humans, on the other hand, will kill their own species to conquer a given territory or to win a desired outcome.

As Girard was sharing about this in the film, it brought to mind a recent essay by Wendell Berry.

Berry's essay caused me pause regarding my own belief that we humans are simply another animal, and that (from Berry's observation) humans (unlike animals) need laws to keep ourselves in harmony.

As I watched the film about Girard's life, the memories of my life at the time I was introduced to Girard arose from my Lake of Memories (as I call it).

And now as a navigator of the ongoing and increasing challenges of living with a rare disease in a fast-paced culture, I thought, "How does Girard's work impact me now? Is my desire for good health a mimetic desire?" 

If so, is there a way that Girard's work can help me to (again) accept and adapt and find purpose beyond my plethora of limitations?

Girard found companionship in books; they were one his biggest teachers.

Books have also been my companion.

Wouldn't I like to get back to turning pages and reading more from books and less from essays online though a digital screen?

Yes, I think I would.

I enjoyed the recently released film and learning more about Girard's life. 

Born on Christmas day in 1923, he lived almost 92 years, dying in November 2015.

Sheep...

Gentle creatures for the most part...

Loyal to the shepherd who lovingly cares for them...

Jesus called his followers sheep and himself the good shepherd...

Jesus was treated as a scapegoat, but the scriptures refer to him as the "lamb of God"...

~*~

Official Trailer 2024 / Things Hidden: The Life and Legacy of René Girard

 

~*~

Perusing for a music video...

I found a song which I'd not heard before...
It prompted a chuckle... :D

Brian M. Howard's song, I Just Wanna Be a Sheep...

~*~

Writer, or not...

Since August, I've gradually become more and more fatigued.

Since November and cold weather becoming dominant, it's been more difficult to simply get out the door. 

It's not because my symptoms are worse in cold weather; it's because of the laborious task of clothing my body in appropriate layers.

I have to take time to rest while dressing or right afterward.

Pulling on socks is a major, major feat. 

Ha. A feat to cover my feet...

Isolation has been my reality since around 2013...

Though it was part of my life before that time, the feelings of isolation became palpable (as a day-to-day reality) beginning sometime in latter 2013... 

Due to living with a rare disease that few can relate to, due to the 24/7 selfcare required, due to my limited energy to engage with others, and due to... blah, blah, blah; the isolation has grown as the months and years have rolled by...

When I search the word "isolation" on tossandripple, 271 posts pop up. 

Since March 2009, I've published 878 separate blog pieces on tossandripple; the subject matters are often the same.

271 of 878 comes to over 25% of the posts that contain the word "isolation."  

Once this piece is published, there'll be 272...

Since September 2008, I've published 237 separate posts on my poetry blog.

Some of those poems go back as far as the late 1970s,

Point being, not all have been written since 2008... 

Those totals are from only two of my blogs.

They don't count my transcribed-journal blog, my private blogs, nor my-some 30+ handwritten journals...

A select few of my poems have been published in 5 different hardcopy poetry anthologies. 

I was asked if I would write the foreword for one of those anthologies; so, I did.

I've had several poems published in one magazine.

I was voted poet laureate on the poetry forum which used to be active.

One of my poems won a poetry contest.

One of my poems inspired a friend to illustrate the poem; his mother-in-law then quilted that illustration. 

I feel I could hardcopy publish more of my poems if I'd submit them somewhere; I just don't have a desire to submit any...

I first posted on the internet in December 2005.

At the time, I never imagined I'd have a blog nor that I'd ever be hardcopy published.

But here I am...

Yet, I still don't consider myself a writer or a poet... 

I do consider myself a journaler...

~*~

Is there ever a final draft? ~cw 

~*~

From darkness, will there be light?

I open the email from Hubby, a forwarded newsletter about energy and about China not doing its part in abiding by the rules to help with carbon reduction and how the USA under Trump will focus on more drilling for natural gas and oil. 

I respond...

"More fracking & drilling...

All for the manufactured need of more energy because of the manufactured need that we humans need to go faster & build machines & computers to do more faster so that the ultra-rich can make more money...

I wonder how Earth will respond..."

The essay brought to mind something I'd heard recently: that the amount of energy required for one AI data center would be enough energy to power over 40,000 homes. (If true, I find it appalling.) I do not know how accurate that is, and I don't feel like researching it. But, like so much in this world, the money involved is gut-churning. 

The next day I open an email, a newsletter I am subscribed to. In this issue there is a link to an essay. by Wendell Berry, entitled Against killing children. (I'm a Wendell Berry fan. I find meaningful company and comfort in his nature poems.) It was first published in October. Now, it is linked again -- two days after another school shooting in the USA. The shooter this time? A fifteen-year-old female...

~*~

As far back as I can recall, I have thought of (and still think of) humans as part of the animal kingdom. But Berry's essay caused me pause. Perhaps I am wrong about that, at least from a biblical point of view. Perhaps we were and still are (from birth) made in the image of Elohim. Wow, that's quite an image. It was Elohim that "in the beginning created the heavens and the earth." 

One of The Way's doctrines is referred to as "body, soul, and spirit." The body was "formed." The soul was "made." The spirit of God within humans was (and now is) "created." (Create means to bring into existence something from nothing; only God can "create.") The Way bases its interpretation on the Hebrew words for formed, made, and created (and the word for soul and creature).

To try to explain, in short...

1)  In the beginning, God "created" the earth. The body of man (and any living creature?) was then "formed" from the dust of the ground. God didn't have to "create" something from nothing; He "formed" the physical body from something he had already created - the earth.

2) God first created breath (soul) for the animals, so God did not have to recreate it for humans; He simply had to make it for humans. Since "the fall," humans are born with soul life, (passed down via the bloodline from Adam and Eve, which is the same breath life we share with the creatures, i.e.: animals). But humans are not born in God's image, which is spirit. We are born with a sinful nature, corruptible seed, impure blood, in need of a redeemer.

3) God had to create His image (which is spirit) within humans; God's spirit in mankind had not existed before. It had to be created. One thing that separates humans from animals, at least in the beginning, was this spirit of God. To this day, only the human animal can receive this spirit, this connection to God. Since Jesus Christ's completed work, at the very instant a person gets "born again," God "creates" His spirit within that person. Even though it is the gift of holy spirit, it is tailor-created for that individual.

So, humans draw breath because of the same mechanism, the same soul life, that is found in the animals. The first humans also (along with that soul breath life) housed the spirit from God, of God, until Adam committed high treason and lost that spiritual connection. (Referred to as "the fall.") A redeemer was then required to be sacrificed to again make that connection available. Jesus Christ was/is that redeemer. 

As I share elsewhere: 

Upon birth, a human is body and soul; we are not born with God's spirit abiding within. "Soul" is breath-life, encompassing genetics; all animals have soul until their last breath. A person does not receive the spirit of God until they decide to become born again (also known as being saved, made whole, redeemed, or the new birth). However, children are counted as saved as long as one parent is saved. This continues until the child reaches an age of accountability when the child is able to independently make a decision to be saved or not.

Way followers believe that a person gets born again by believing Romans 10: 9 and 10. That is, a person must confess with their mouth (out loud is not necessary) that Jesus is Lord (not as God, but as Master) and believe in their heart that God raised Jesus from the dead. To accept Jesus into one's heart or to believe that Jesus is God does not result in a person being born again; those are counterfeit formulas. Once a person is born again, they cannot, for any reason, lose their salvation. The only people who cannot be saved are those born of the seed of the serpent, the devil. 

That's a really short version of a deep and complex subject. 

(Click here for an overview of The Way's beliefs.)

~*~

   

Below are a few excerpts from Berry's essay. 

Perhaps it will be enough to entice the reader to read more.  

The essay is a long but worth the time. 

Wendell Berry is 90 years old. 

Link to the essay: Against killing children ...

"... like many children of my generation, I enjoyed a freedom that has become rare, almost extinct. The best part of my early education was the free, unsupervised playing and rambling with other children in our small towns and the freedom to wander in fields and woods. We were to a degree endangered, of course, by the world’s native hazards and our inexperience, but we acquired experience, too, the kind of experience that supervision excludes, and thus something in the way of caution.

 

Today in our not very free country, children are first in line to be unfree. They are enclosed in specialized child worlds constructed for them by frightened and mostly absent adults. And yet they are in danger, now not so much from nature and accident as from an industrial instrument made expressly for death-dealing, wielded against them by an irate or maddened gunslinger. They are not safe in their schools, and if not there then obviously not in any public place.

A new and most acute pain comes into the heart with the thought of little children learning in school their poor means of protecting themselves against a gunman come to kill them. It is convenient, a relief of sorts, to look upon this as anomalous, supposing that this killing of children in school is perpetrated by people exceptionally crazed or maddened, or to blame it on the proliferation of guns or the inadequacy of gun laws. There may be some truth in these explanations. It seems that people are becoming more likely to be crazed by a popular anger or hatred or some extremity of politics. It is true that people in general own too many guns.... 

But I am attempting to talk here about a radical reduction of childhood, which can happen only by way of a radical reduction of parenthood, of adulthood, of what it means to be a grown-up human being. It is not enough to single out offenders or groups of offenders, as I have been doing, and lay blame. These reductions are national in scope. In one way or another they involve us all, and among their implications is the killing of children. I dread to say so, but we have become a child-killing nation. The kindest way to put this is to say that we have become a society of people who cannot prevent our own children from being killed in their classrooms or in other gathering places and who do not much mind the killing of other people’s children by weapons of war that we have made and assigned to that purpose. Sooner or later, we will have to ask how we can so disvalue the lives of other people’s children without, by the same willingness, disvaluing the lives of our own....

...we have got to ask if there is a point at which Christian conscience, or any conscience, can say no to a technological 'advance' of any kind. I will mention again, as I have done often before, the Old Order Amish, who have maintained an effective freedom of choice for themselves by limiting the economic scale of their lives and by asking of any proposed innovation a single question: 'What will this do to our community?' ...

...Trainability, as we know from our dealings with parrots and dogs, is a mark of intelligence. Perhaps because of our big brains, we were easily trained to want television sets and computers...

...Genesis 1:27 declares that 'God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him: male and female created he them.' I would like to read that for what it is: not history or science, as we understand those terms, but a part of the King James translation of a Hebrew poem about the origin of everything. As religious statements often do, this one places us between two perfectly symmetrical impossibilities: nobody can prove that God created us in his own image, and nobody can prove that he did not...

...To be made in the image of God is to be made unique among the other creatures, to be made especially uncomfortable in our dealings with them and therefore especially in need of instruction. Unlike the other creatures, we need laws to keep us in harmony with heaven and earth and with one another. And so God reveals himself from the first as a lawgiver. His laws come as light in darkness, allowing us even when we disobey them—which we are free of course to do and often have done—to see what we are doing and to know what is expected of us. This is why the blessed man of the first Psalm delights 'in the law of the Lord.' He recognizes the relief and the immense privilege of knowing the difference between right and wrong...."

~*~

Keb' Mo' with Victims of Comfort...

~*~

Doxology with I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day (Acapella)...

Click here to read the history of this song composed from a poem by Longfellow which he wrote during the USA Civil War. 

Two verses of his poem are excluded from the song. Those verses are...

Then from each black, accursed mouth

The cannon thundered in the South,

And with the sound

The carols drowned

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent

The hearth-stones of a continent,

And made forlorn

The households born

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

~*~

A ghost story...

Okay, so if I just start writing, what will come out?

Ah, what about the toilet valve story?

If I share that one, readers might think I've really lost my marbles. 

Marbles.. 

Varied in color and size...

Some large, some small... 

Some solid-colored, others marbled...

After all, they are marbles...

So, from my journal archives...

The ghost story...

~*~*

Wednesday, May 22, 2019

Shortly after waking up, I make my way to the bathroom, sit down on the toilet seat, and pee. 
Once finished, I push the lever and swoosh-choo, down goes the water waste. 

But then nothing; the bowl isn't filling up. 

That's odd, I think. 

Is the toilet valve off?

I sit on the floor gazing at the valve. 

Is it off or on? I don't want to break it, if it's on. 

I first put my right hand on the valve, then my left.

My hands and arms are weak; it will take both hands to turn it. if I can turn it.

I remind myself of the rhyme, Lefty loosie, righty tighty. 

But the valve won't budge either direction. 

I don't want to apply more strength and possibly break it. 

I text Hubby, "Good morning. Did you turn off the toilet valve in the front bathroom?" 

I wait about ten minutes. 

No response.

I try calling, but the call goes straight to voicemail.

I don't leave a message.

I gaze at the toilet valve. 

I again attempt to turn it to the left, putting more strength into my effort. 

It turns! 

As it turns the toilet fills with water, then stops when it is full.

So weird. Why would Hubby turn off the water? 

What if he didn't turn off the water? 

What if there is someone hiding in the house? 

My heart skips five beats.

Carol, calm down. That's just crazy.

How would anyone get in? 

And when?

"Anybody in here!?!" I shout with cautious confidence.

I bang on closet doors and open them. 

I feel like a child making sure the boogie man isn't under my bed.

I am quivering inside and out.

Okay Carol, calm down. 

Maybe Hubby turned off the valve. 

But why?

Well, if a person didn't turn it off; was it a ghost?

We've had ghost-like incidents before.

But nothing so blatant as this.

I shake my head.

I recall one of those incidents...

Remember the shadow you saw years ago, around 12 AM walking into Son's room? 

You thought Son had come home. So, you went into his room to say "Hi," but no one was there. 

You chalked it up to your eyes playing tricks on you. 

But still, that shadow has lingered in your memory.

I immediately close the door to Son's old room.

I move the TV tray in the hall, that holds the humidifier, in front of the door.
If someone or something opens it and walks out, it will make a racket. 

From the stairs at the end of the hall, I sit and watch for shadows below the door. 

We have all hardwood floors so there's a gap at the bottom of all our doors.

Then Hubby texts, "No. I didn't turn off the water."

I read it. 

Holy shit...

I immediately call Hubby.

He answers.

"Holy fuck," I say out loud. 

"The toilet valve was turned off. I checked closets but there are no signs of anyone being in the house. Should I call the police? Or Neighbor? But they'll think I'm nuts."

I'm quivering inside and out. 

I'm more concerned about an actual person than a ghost.

I let Hubby know that I'd made noise, opened closet doors, and put the TV tray in front of Son's door.

"That's really weird," Hubby responds after a pause of silence. 

"Wow."

Another pause.

We talk for a few minutes, and both decide that I shouldn't call anyone. 

But I'm on guard the rest of the morning.

Once I'm convinced that no one is indeed in the house, I ponder the situation...

Well, maybe it is a ghost.

Or maybe it's an angel, or something.

But why the toilet valve? 

I mean, why not do something useful like wash the dishes or clean the house? 

About five days later. as I lay on the bathroom floor taking in a coffee enema which is supposed to help my liver detox the heavy metals and any poisons I've absorbed, I stare at the valve.

I tilt my head to the right multiple times as I think, Off.

I tilt my head to the left multiple times as I think, On.

 The On-Off thoughts then change to...

Opened....

Closed...

Oh my gosh. 

I just wrote in my journal last week that I need to remain open. 

Open to possibilities beyond my five senses. 

Opened...

Closed...

I repeat while tilting my head to the left and then the right as I stare at the valve...

~*~*

We never discover anything in the five-senses realm to explain how the valve was securely turned off...

Neither Hubby nor I are sleepwalkers...

I doubt angels, ghosts, or Spirit need sleep...

~*~*

Related post: Filled with purpose...

~*~*~

When I posted this piece, I couldn't think of a song to go with it...

A few days later, Pandora played Ghostbusters...

Oh yeah! I chuckled...

"I ain't 'fraid of no ghosts..."

Ray Parker Jr. with Ghostbusters...

~*~*~