#Brook and River despise each other
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missescalientee · 16 days ago
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More grandparents of the future main cast of tros that I made.
River Beachwood aka Axel Floyd was a Rock troll who heard of the terrible situation the pop trolls were in and came to help. Protea took him under her wing and crafted his pop persona, he worked alongside her to try and liberate the trolls from the troll tree. He spent his entire life in the troll tree hiding his true identity with only his wife and daughter being aware of it inside his family.
Brook Bramble is Creeks grandfather, he knew River and did not care for him, River stood between him and his own attempts to gain more power, he was the Queen's right hand man and care taker for Prince Peppy while Queen Protea was busy.
At some point I want to write out their story, it's not a super happy one, but with history (and the troll tree) comes tragedy and there's a lot I want to explore
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lilacsnid · 11 months ago
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𝙇𝙄𝙇𝘼𝘾 𝙒𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙀𝙎 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏
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𝙎𝙇𝙊𝙒 𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙎𝙀𝙎 → 𝘙𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦 | 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (4.1k words)
𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: Y/N has been assigned on a solo undercover mission. Infiltrate the warehouse, secure the flash drive, and evade detection; seems simple enough. But what happens if she gets caught by a dangerous criminal & her life hangs in the balance?
𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 | 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (5.8k words)
𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: Y/N is leaving work from Slough House rather late one evening and passes River's office to find him still sitting at his desk. She persuades him to not be so uptight & to come have a drink with her at the pub. She learns a bit more about him that night - including the fact that River Cartwright is a massive lightweight.
𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐔𝐩𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭 | 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (10k+ words)
✗ 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙊𝙣𝙚 ✗ 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙏𝙬𝙤
𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: They despised one another & barely tolerated each other while working at Slough House. Tensions rise as they are sent out into the field together, working undercover to search for a sleeper agent in the cozy village of Upshott. To avoid being caught, they are forced to pretend that they are "together". Being so close in each others company causes certain feelings rise to the surface that they have both tried to bury for far too long.
𝘿𝙐𝙉𝙆𝙄𝙍𝙆 → 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴
𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐫 | 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘹 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳
𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: Amongst the chaos of World War II breaking out, 23 year old Charlotte Brooks was desperate to be of use to her country. Fresh out of training, she is sent to the coast of France to work in a British base field hospital. It soon becomes clear that no amount of training could have prepared her for the traumatic sights she would see. One night, the hospital receives a convoy of trauma patients, soldiers who have been brutally injured while fighting on the front line. That night, an RAF pilot is taken into her care and it seems that she ends up finding love where she didn't go searching for it.
COMING SOON ✔︎
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herroyalbubbliness · 2 years ago
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Virgin River
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S4
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Photo Credit: @TV Line
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It is great to just watch a show with expressions and evolutions of healthy relationships where they grow individually and together, dealing with grief, loss, the past, deeply buried guilt and just being human.
Loving the other person the way they want and how they understand love, for example, Mel camping out at night with Jack.
Soothing with the calming sound of the waves, the trees dancing, blooming flowers, sunrise, sunset, the beams of sunlight doing peekaboo through the leaves casting shadows of different shapes, brooks, mountains, rocks, and rich expanse of land.
The rich sense of community with open communication, vulnerability, and emotional nudity.
I love how they delve into each person's mental state like Hope's need for solitude, to make sense out of this loss, anger, empty spaces, and passive aggressiveness.
How do you help a loved one that needs help and yet refuses that help, while you watch them unraveling before your eyes grappling with so much hurt?
Sometimes the toughest people to seek forgiveness from is the one we behold in the mirror.
The guilt is unforgiving, crushing, drowning. We try to come up for air and with each attempt, its heavy boots push us back in.
Everyone has grown tremendously from Mel who is more forthcoming about how she feels, especially with Jack, and more accepting of help.
Doc is more patient and now has delegating duties on lock.
Lizzie takes up responsibilities now without fuss and gets along with her grandma better and has come to love this place she despised so much.
Brady has evolved too. He is less impulsive and considers the consequences of his actions now before making decisions, learning how best to support his loved one.
Jack admitting he needs help and getting it. It's a brave thing ti rise to the occasion of dealing with one's inner demons.
Hope's story arc this season sure challenges her and pushes her to grow too, to be more willing to compromise.
Friends with an intimate knowledge of you, allow you the freedom to be you and hold your hands through the good, the bad, and the crispy.
The finale stressed me out so much and also confirmed what I had suspected all along.
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wikipedialore · 3 years ago
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what is the plot of the merry wives of windsor?
The play is nominally set in the early 15th century, during the same period as the Henry IV plays featuring Falstaff, but there is only one brief reference to this period, a line in which the character Fenton is said to have been one of Prince Hal's rowdy friends (he "kept company with the wild prince and Poins"). In all other respects, the play implies a contemporary setting of the Elizabethan era, c. 1600.
Falstaff arrives in Windsor very short on money. He decides that, to obtain financial advantage, he will court two wealthy married women, Mistress Ford and Mistress Page. Falstaff decides to send the women identical love letters and asks his servants – Pistol and Nym – to deliver them to the wives. When they refuse, Falstaff sacks them, and, in revenge, the men tell the husbands Ford and Page of Falstaff's intentions. Page is not concerned, but the jealous Ford persuades the Host of the Garter Inn to introduce him to Falstaff as a 'Master Brook' so that he can find out Falstaff's plans.
Meanwhile, three different men are trying to win the hand of Page's daughter, Anne Page. Mistress Page would like her daughter to marry Doctor Caius, a French physician, whereas the girl's father would like her to marry Master Slender. Anne herself is in love with Master Fenton, but Page had previously rejected Fenton as a suitor due to his having squandered his considerable fortune on high-class living. Hugh Evans, a Welsh parson, tries to enlist the help of Mistress Quickly (servant to Doctor Caius) in wooing Anne for Slender, but the doctor discovers this and challenges Evans to a duel. The Host of the Garter Inn prevents this duel by telling each man a different meeting place, causing much amusement for himself, Justice Shallow, Page and others. Evans and Caius decide to work together to be revenged on the Host.
When the women receive the letters, each goes to tell the other, and they quickly find that the letters are almost identical. The "merry wives" are not interested in the ageing, overweight Falstaff as a suitor; however, for the sake of their own amusement and to gain revenge for his indecent assumptions towards them both, they pretend to respond to his advances.
This all results in great embarrassment for Falstaff. Mr. Ford poses as 'Mr. Brook' and says he is in love with Mistress Ford but cannot woo her as she is too virtuous. He offers to pay Falstaff to court her, saying that once she has lost her honour he will be able to tempt her himself. Falstaff cannot believe his luck, and tells 'Brook' he has already arranged to meet Mistress Ford while her husband is out. Falstaff leaves to keep his appointment and Ford soliloquizes that he is right to suspect his wife and that the trusting Page is a fool.
When Falstaff arrives to meet Mistress Ford, the merry wives trick him into hiding in a laundry basket ("buck basket") full of filthy, smelly clothes awaiting laundering. When the jealous Ford returns to try and catch his wife with the knight, the wives have the basket taken away and the contents (including Falstaff) dumped into the river. Although this affects Falstaff's pride, his ego is surprisingly resilient. He is convinced that the wives are just "playing hard to get" with him, so he continues his pursuit of sexual advancement, with its attendant capital and opportunities for blackmail.
Again Falstaff goes to meet the women but Mistress Page comes back and warns Mistress Ford of her husband's approach again. They try to think of ways to hide him other than the laundry basket which he refuses to get into again. They trick him again, this time into disguising himself as Mistress Ford's maid's obese aunt, known as "the fat woman of Brentford". Ford tries once again to catch his wife with the knight but ends up hitting the "old woman", whom he despises and takes for a witch, and throwing her out of his house. Having been beaten "into all the colors of the rainbow", Falstaff laments his bad luck.
Eventually the wives tell their husbands about the series of jokes they have played on Falstaff, and together they devise one last trick which ends up with the Knight being humiliated in front of the whole town. They tell Falstaff to dress as "Herne, the Hunter" and meet them by an old oak tree in Windsor Forest (now part of Windsor Great Park). They then dress several of the local children, including Anne and William Page, as fairies and get them to pinch and burn Falstaff to punish him. Page plots to dress Anne in white and tells Slender to steal her away and marry her during the revels. Mistress Page and Doctor Caius arrange to do the same, but they arrange Anne shall be dressed in green. Anne tells Fenton this, and he and the Host arrange for Anne and Fenton to be married instead.
The wives meet Falstaff, and almost immediately the "fairies" attack. Slender, Caius, and Fenton steal away their brides-to-be during the chaos, and the rest of the characters reveal their true identities to Falstaff.
Although he is embarrassed, Falstaff takes the joke surprisingly well, as he sees it was what he deserved. Ford says he must pay back the 20 pounds 'Brook' gave him and takes the Knight's horses as recompense. Slender suddenly appears and says he has been deceived – the 'girl' he took away to marry was not Anne but a young boy. Caius arrives with similar news – however, he has actually married his boy. Fenton and Anne arrive and admit that they love each other and have been married. Fenton chides the parents for trying to force Anne to marry men she did not love and the parents accept the marriage and congratulate the young pair. Eventually they all leave together and Mistress Page even invites Falstaff to come with them: "let us every one go home, and laugh this sport o'er by a country fire; Sir John and all".
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arcticdementor · 4 years ago
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You might look around sometimes and think to yourself, a new America has dawned, godless, without the old restraints. Yellowstone, the Kevin Costner Western on the Paramount Channel is the best example I can summon to mind just now, and its third season has just started. It’s a 21st-century story of cowboys and Indians—with characters seeking freedom from law. Practically, this means they must constantly defend a way of life independent of the many bureaucracies threatening their livelihood, and they do so with terrible violence.
Taylor Sheridan is the writer-director behind Yellowstone, and the series follows the success of his movies, Sicario, Hell or High Water, and Wind River. These movies earned seven Oscar nominations, one for Sheridan, and about as many nominations in Cannes, including important wins. Sheridan was raised on a ranch, but his family lost it, so he went to college and Hollywood, recalling Sam Peckinpah’s story. After Clint Eastwood, he’s now our premier poet of manliness.
Like any man long in power, Dutton has many enemies, and the more they behave dishonorably, the more you see that he’s touched by greatness, since he has no desire to go hurting people and does not share their cruel contempt for justice or life. Many look to prosper in his place, partly by the prosperity he has made. Worse for Dutton, America has changed—from the national press investigating him to the new economy to the way historical grievances grant authority to demand change—everything is threatening his way of life, built around family, land, and centuries past and future. Indeed, loyalty itself is over and new identities are required, which are flexible and practiced in deception. To succeed in Yellowstone’s new America, it doesn’t really matter whether you know any part of the country or have done well by people, but whether you know how to manipulate institutions and please those who manage the most successful interests, which seem hardly any better than legalized conspiracies.
Like Hemingway’s marlin, which achieves its greatest leap in its death throes and expires at the top of the arc, Dutton is most impressive in agony. He seems superhuman compared to the new American elites. His handling of urgent problems makes him resemble the president—he is an executive. Meanwhile, egalitarianism has not created equality in America, but only a new elite, impatient, ignorant of the future, blind to necessity—thus, astonishingly able to manipulate the new systems of power, since these elites feel no concern for consequences. The real world, where people are tied to a place, to other people, to their past, and the good they pursue, is replaced by access to the institutions and finances that make the world work, which manipulate people’s lives indirectly, in unaccountable and unpredictable ways. Everyone’s tied into legal demands and their lives are increasingly regulated, but only people who know how to use the law to get what they want get ahead in this new situation. The first post-American elite is coming for the last cowboys.
The American Dream is over in Yellowstone, and billionaire gentrification is coming for the last refuge of manliness in a country that produces compliant subjects rather than free citizens. In this grim world, cowboys are stand-ins for the white working class. They don’t go to college and they work dangerous jobs without much healthcare and for little pay. They are not disrupting the economy. They are America’s past, not future. Their virtues are Stoic and this might simply mean resignation to death.
Justice is built on nobility, and in Yellowstone, Sheridan draws our attention to this through the characters’ relationship with their horses. So understanding horses is the core of Stoicism—the horse is the noblest animal and America’s love of horses lasted well into the last era of popular country music and the Western, in the 1970s, because a horse rider presents the image of someone more than merely human. It is a greatness available nearly to anyone, at least anyone willing to face harsh nature. Horses are everywhere in Yellowstone, so one might not read much into it. They symbolize certain virtues, however. The horse is a power that will obey the rider, but not against its own nature. To ride a horse requires endurance in face of pain or weariness, courage to face fear or whatever weakness might come, self-control in face of temptation, and moderation—those habits that make man thoughtlessly sovereign. Without these, you die when it’s suddenly dangerous. One cannot talk oneself into it and there is no technology to accomplish this, either. It’s a way of life, not a job. It takes long practice which allows you to understand yourself and develop self-discipline. As such, horse riding leads to a kind of self-knowledge.
The Duttons are not Christians, few of their like seem to be—not even the death of the firstborn leads to a church funeral. They believe in freedom and nature—ruling over the land, over the horses, over people. They despise weakness and treasure loyalty. They trust family, not morality. Compared to ordinary Americans, they’re shockingly aristocratic. They believe in choosing the means to defend family and their land because family itself is unchosen—it’s nature, and therefore reliable. But can they live in America, where most people have no family? They rely on their old-fashioned patriotism to defend the ranching way of life, but the country has changed without them and it seems they can either adapt and sacrifice their family, or stay loyal and lose everything.
The opposite of a man in America is a bourgeois bohemian, to recall David Brooks’s signal contribution to our sociology in Bobos in Paradise (2000). Brooks is a sophist for this class, so he will not tell the ugly truth—but Tom Wolfe did in A Man in Full (1998), and even scooped Brooks. It’s not an accident that he saw clearly: Wolfe was the poet of American Stoicism and understood the threats to manliness.
The people who define elite taste in America are themselves opposed to violence, but not because they are Christian or even moral. It’s because their own rule doesn’t require that they ever take any personal risks—poorer people do that, who live in other parts of town or are completely removed from sight by gentrification. Nowadays, the rich take no responsibility for the poorer or those suffering violence, or even ever shake their hands, which is why our cities are such madhouses. There is no noblesse oblige.
Sheridan wants to show the violence in America to rebuke this bloodless view of things. So in the first season we see, through the real estate developer drama, how the new American elite is moving in to remove the last ranchers. This establishes the difference between real men and those who want to rule merely through institutions and finance, as though history had ended and we’re just dividing up luxuries. In the second season, we see rule by violence, in order to understand the difference between men and beasts. Sheridan shows that not all who kill are the same. Only then is it possible to defend the ranchers against the bobos persuasively.
The older Americans were not sufficiently attuned to nature, because they believed in God more. But as the churches are emptying, people are looking elsewhere to learn who they are. Some turn to nature, because human beings are not trustworthy. We may say mankind is naturally perverse, always coveting and therefore often violent or treacherous, which is why harshness was required in the past, to establish property and then defend it. This is certainly Dutton’s view, who only goes to church once, to make a priest manipulate a parishioner into obedience. And as a family, the Duttons are only happy when they revert to their old ways, taking care of their herd from an improvised camp so far away from civilization there’s no cell tower in range.
The only way to end the human drama would be to stop being enviable. End greatness and thus end striving. On the other hand, to defend greatness is to defend suffering. This way, we learn that suffering builds character—it brings people together, as do common enemies. This problem, the future of America, is the show’s indirect concern. Is it possible to retain honor in a dishonorable world? It’s not obvious how we can defend freedom without honorable men making sacrifices. Nor how we can raise honorable men if we tolerate bobo elites who despise honor and use every institution of government and market to end it. Dutton raised his kids to correspond to his understanding of rule. The treacherous Jamie is a Harvard-educated lawyer who tasted the bobo life for a while, but in order to redeem himself, he works like hired help in the stables. Beth is a finance genius, which plays to her ruthlessness, but at the price of undermining her ability to love and trust. Kayce is the truest cowboy, but what makes him so loyal also blinds him to the complexities of 21st century America. They each amplify something in Dutton, but in this attempt to pass on the ranch to a new generation, it turns out honor and savvy have been utterly split apart.
This acquisitive capitalism that corrupts honor is the enemy that returns in the third season of Yellowstone. That’s what the name of the show is about—the place of nature in America. Is it a museum, a zoo we visit occasionally, enjoying the beauty after all the danger is under control, and the millionaire class gets extra privileges? Or is there also a human nature that we need to learn to respect by treating physical nature with some respect, lest our elites treat us like pets as well? To defend manliness in America, it may be necessary to defend wild nature. That is a preparation for political freedom. To go too far in the opposite direction is to treat human beings, but especially men, like savages—as our elites do to the urban and rural underclass.
The purpose of the show is to persuade Americans to believe in nobility again. To face cruelty and violence as a preferable alternative to institutionalized despotism. To accept America’s tragic past with gratitude for the freedom we still have, if we are willing to earn it again. We have had so much success, we’ve created a class who profits by this success without any connection to America or regular Americans. We need to educate new elites about what’s worth loving and defending. Sheridan wants to teach by tragedy, so his protagonists are essentially honorable, which is no longer tolerated in our storytelling. Americans have never accepted tragedy before but perhaps now we will, since our freedom is once again in danger.
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dfroza · 3 years ago
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Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms
for August 23 of 2021 with Proverbs 23 and Psalm 23, accompanied by Psalm 65 for the 65th day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 85 for day 235 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)
[Proverbs 23]
[Wisdom Will Protect You]
When you’ve been invited to dine with a very important leader,
consider your manners and keep in mind whom you’re with.
Be careful to curb your appetite and catch yourself
before you fall into the trap of wanting all you see.
Don’t crave their delicacies,
for they may have another motive in having you sit at their table.
Don’t compare yourself to the rich.
Surrender your selfish ambition and evaluate them properly.
For no sooner do you start counting your wealth
than it sprouts wings and flies away like an eagle in the sky—
here today, gone tomorrow!
Be sensible when you dine with a stingy man
and don’t eat more than you should.
For as he thinks within himself, so is he.
He will grudgingly say, “Go ahead and eat all you want,”
but in his heart he resents the fact that he has to pay for your meal.
You’ll be sorry you ate anything at all,
and all your compliments will be wasted.
A rebellious fool will despise your wise advice,
so don’t even waste your time—save your breath!
Never move a long-standing boundary line
or attempt to take land that belongs to the fatherless.
For they have a mighty protector,
a loving redeemer, who watches over them,
and he will stand up for their cause.
Pay close attention to the teaching that corrects you,
and open your heart to every word of instruction.
Don’t withhold appropriate discipline from your child.
Go ahead and punish him when he needs it.
Don’t worry—it won’t kill him!
A good spanking could be the very thing
that teaches him a lifelong lesson!
My beloved child, when your heart is full of wisdom,
my heart is full of gladness.
And when you speak anointed words,
we are speaking mouth to mouth!
Don’t allow the actions of evil men
to cause you to burn with anger.
Instead, burn with unrelenting passion
as you worship God in holy awe.
Your future is bright and filled with a living hope
that will never fade away.
As you listen to me, my beloved child,
you will grow in wisdom and your heart
will be drawn into understanding,
which will empower you to make right decisions.
Don’t live in the excesses of drunkenness or gluttony,
or waste your life away by partying all the time,
because drunkards and gluttons sleep their lives away
and end up broke!
Give respect to your father and mother,
for without them you wouldn’t even be here.
And don’t neglect them when they grow old.
Embrace the truth and hold it close.
Don’t let go of wisdom, instruction, and life-giving understanding.
When a father observes his child living in godliness,
he is ecstatic with joy—nothing makes him prouder!
So may your father’s heart burst with joy
and your mother’s soul be filled with gladness because of you.
My son, give me your heart
and embrace fully what I’m about to tell you.
Stay far away from prostitutes
and you’ll stay far away from the pit of destruction.
For sleeping with a promiscuous woman is like falling into a trap
that you’ll never be able to escape!
Like a robber hiding in the shadows
she’s waiting to claim another victim—
another husband unfaithful to his wife.
Who has anguish? Who has bitter sorrow?
Who constantly complains and argues?
Who stumbles and falls and hurts himself?
Who’s the one with bloodshot eyes?
It’s the one who drinks too much
and is always looking for a brew.
Make sure it’s never you!
And don’t be drunk with wine
but be known as one who enjoys the company
of the lovers of God,
for drunkenness brings the sting of a serpent,
like the fangs of a viper spreading poison into your soul.
It will make you hallucinate, mumble,
and speak words that are perverse.
You’ll be like a seasick sailor being tossed to and fro,
dizzy and out of your mind.
You’ll awake only to say, “What hit me?
I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck!”
Yet off you’ll go, looking for another drink!
The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 23 (The Passion Translation)
[Psalm 23]
The Good Shepherd
David’s poetic praise to God
Yahweh is my best friend and my shepherd.
I always have more than enough.
He offers a resting place for me in his luxurious love.
His tracks take me to an oasis of peace near the quiet brook of bliss.
That’s where he restores and revives my life.
He opens before me the right path
and leads me along in his footsteps of righteousness
so that I can bring honor to his name.
Even when your path takes me through
the valley of deepest darkness,
fear will never conquer me, for you already have!
Your authority is my strength and my peace.
The comfort of your love takes away my fear.
I’ll never be lonely, for you are near.
You become my delicious feast
even when my enemies dare to fight.
You anoint me with the fragrance of your Holy Spirit;
you give me all I can drink of you until my cup overflows.
So why would I fear the future?
Only goodness and tender love pursue me all the days of my life.
Then afterward, when my life is through,
I’ll return to your glorious presence to be forever with you!
The Book of Psalms, Poem 23 (The Passion Translation)
[Psalm 65]
For the worship leader. A song of David.
All will stand in awe to praise You.
Praise will sweep through Zion, the Sacred City, O God.
Solemn vows uttered to You will now be performed.
You hear us pray in words and silence;
all humanity comes into Your presence.
Injustice overwhelms me!
But You forgive our sins, restoring as only You can.
You invite us near, drawing us
into Your courts—what an honor and a privilege!
We feast until we’re full on the goodness of Your house,
Your sacred temple made manifest.
You leave us breathless when Your awesome works answer us by putting everything right.
God of our liberation—
You are the hope of all creation, from the far corners of the earth
to distant life-giving oceans.
With immense power, You erected mountains.
Wrapped in strength, You compelled
Choppy seas,
crashing waves,
and crowds of people
To sit in astonished silence.
Those who inhabit the boundaries of the earth are awed by Your signs,
strong and subtle hints of Your indelible presence.
Even the dawn and dusk respond to You with joy.
You spend time on the good earth,
watering and nourishing the networks of the living.
God’s river is full of water!
By preparing the land,
You have provided us grain for nourishment.
You are the gentle equalizer: soaking the furrows,
smoothing soil’s ridges,
Softening sun-baked earth with generous showers,
blessing the fruit of the ground.
You crown the year with a fruitful harvest;
the paths are worn down by carts overflowing with unstoppable growth.
Barren desert pastures yield fruit;
craggy hills are now dressed for celebration.
Meadows are clothed with frolicking flocks of lambs;
valleys are covered with a carpet of autumn-harvest grain;
the land shouts and sings in joyous celebration.
The Book of Psalms, Poem 65 (The Voice)
[Psalm 85]
Mercy and Truth
For the Pure and Shining One
A prophetic song composed by the prophetic singers of Korah’s clan
Lord, your love has poured out
so many amazing blessings on our land!
You’ve restored Jacob’s destiny from captivity.
You’ve forgiven our many sins and covered
every one of them in your love.
Pause in his presence
So now it’s obvious that your blazing anger has ended and
the furious fire of wrath has been extinguished by your mercy.
So bring us back to loving you, God our Savior.
Restore our hearts so that we’ll never again
feel your anger rise against us.
Will you forever hold a grudge?
Will your anger endure for all time?
Revive us again, O God! I know you will! Give us a fresh start!
Then all your people will taste your joy and gladness.
Pour out even more of your love on us!
Reveal more of your kindness and restore us back to you!
Now I’ll listen carefully for your voice
and wait to hear whatever you say.
Let me hear your promise of peace—
the message every one of your godly lovers longs to hear.
Don’t let us in our ignorance turn back from following you.
For I know your power and presence shines on all your devoted lovers.
Your glory always hovers over all who bow low before you.
Your mercy and your truth have married each other.
Your righteousness and peace have kissed.
Flowers of your faithfulness are blooming on the earth.
Righteousness shines down from the sky.
Yes, the Lord keeps raining down blessing after blessing,
and prosperity will drench the land with a bountiful harvest.
For deliverance goes before him,
preparing a path for his steps.
The Book of Psalms, Poem 85 (The Passion Translation)
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libidomechanica · 4 years ago
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Untitled (“M sorrow was”)
M sorrow was Salámán, who had for through Hades, so smoothly merit lived under-clap      as is people say   of love and decay: for some violets, which burne blessed to Loues decrees I, forcd, agree, and took his pinioned to look could not peace between the pageant and kaȝten hem dear love her fete, on burne self companions of ryȝtes interesting soul cut moment more they crop— was hung withouten and the kings one! More like a reed; so when Adonais layd abedde, with each of þe prowes fast foe is echoes who know not impossible steps without it
O blood is but at the name for Charles at Benedictions          instead, as hit besides the crownd; but whence can emerge exhausted, saying,Accept their out-peeping late may order, to take me lang as on the short howls, and sung in slomeryng hyȝes, bi þay wysten þis sted was not for the body was change!
Thou, fond of the World was short,   a nymph pass that sees a damsels dark, and bore thou pype I not known, to stirop and dream had gloom oercame the accents came not of bak and flowry meadows I haue of life given us and were breast could not from thence camel is to passez, þen, brayn wyth yow sped a troop had long must be together throng. A second sone þe ladies in the Dardanelles,   shorn pastern watch, and have felt as a kiss may stoken with that died or doomed the sager sorceress, and moved by those of all me the hope had was show          And would proclaim: they be not fall, that trickling I listening,
with little dream it would move unto Crested, they mighty forever I am shame. Þe kay fot on loghe to Gryngolet, she turnd as if she Autumn sky,       and gaynly is hert hade women to scorne Astrologie, and I am tan inne, toreted and the core while I can look down upon thee from the secreate with that were grene chapel er he woldez hit of Writers must be remiss:
the Lady Daphne she, too, I will beginning; at others fame or god, I saw and than life, for an oþer,   Let her sweet to the dream
  and other. as fortunes of Death, which all thing, and gummy frankly niggard noble hear the beauties produced the must, scarf hadst the westerne, syn he coȝed ful þyk, suande in your eyes: in her of those nameless never such reuel on hors much your maid, how Phoebus gilding the passion with her sails propels; but her sublime       yourself in flowres, that cocking of Tityrus his sight! Als for years   for one of Time, thy fingers be glutted.
Would forests— great cry, that, self-caged Passion poesy so rare and sacredness, and ties, and comly cort rych bout black— o! That some midnight I heards a bordes gawayn þe grene as beate his helme, þe chyn within my attic and mynne on the whole centuries out of evolution make any other hade faylez þou not think, and freeze before such as vpon hyȝt, þe grate, looked, and wilt the forth to span; have broken-hearted,              convulsed at th shepherd bent,       like all wee.   Fame
  his glutton forgo? It is in this General who hade of him who landed; of summer clothd:  must prayers, a circled a million lay, piercd thy images on the Laocoons despise,   To haylce,
  yet might doe soe. why do ye falled, till lover, link by little carpet tonight which once-named Simile enough. Had reach its despaired ladyez were changed frogs can to schawe, þat watz comen þoȝt.
You—so many may pass each the same blusschande brayd fro þe chapel cheued in low falls in vain the tree in hymself, if aught so dearest, with light assail   and to their brow, with needle brook a wordless Eyes from us and end my wife, thy brain an April of every marge, what I ask, and twilight within the window, put to his lif like a mistress, or warpd as if to wait upon the taking pulp, that unrest, and kennes of hemlock turf, a lullaby doth call the broken in that fathers view— as far I count over my displese yow, displeses yow layne, come of the numbers good deal more wyth hit in old mans children breath now and I will doubted; time that love not say to advance   had hym frayned me a lock of sleepe in lillies no more can say that were half, or some monsters story of safety, who would I seemed to show his eyes, all date, a tinting ration withdrew her round,          will sink this Russ retire a sparkling in dust, but pity till unexcavated honey tongue fault, amend, because bird, while Psyche, she saw she too ripe, in me,
  That great joys, Civilisation.   consumd before. True Love, I am Ra who does natural pleasant sun in measure   his lode for Renaude saule with gore: the should be. Queme hym with his hode of evolution and we steps: great river take myself— beside the same bright upward: but for lyf, þe legge lykes,
and thrusting,—and love, I thoughts they could you on kyrf sette as maid. And, truly of þe payttrure, þe nakedness. an olive.   Gonna be all date,
  Not one.
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petrichorate · 7 years ago
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Siddhartha: Thoughts
Siddhartha (Hermann Hesse)
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The writing style of Siddhartha was very straightforward—in tone, it reminded me a bit of The Little Prince and The Alchemist, in that it was trying to reveal grander messages in a very simple story. I can’t say that I took as much away from Siddhartha as I did from the two aforementioned books, but it was interesting to read about Buddhism and the ideas of peace and acceptance collected at the end of the novel.
Here are some parts of the book that struck me:
“The Buddha went quietly on his way, lost in thought. His peaceful countenance was neither happy nor sad. He seemed to be smiling gently inwardly. With a secret smile, not unlike that of a healthy child, he walked along, peacefully, quietly. He wore his gown and walked along exactly like the other monks, but his face and his step, his peaceful downward glance, his peaceful downward-hanging hand, and every finger of his hand spoke of peace, spoke of completeness, sought nothing, imitated nothing, reflected a continuous quiet, an unfading light, an invulnerable peace.”
“As Siddhartha left the grove in which the Buddha, the Perfect One, remained, in which Govinda remained, he felt that he had also left his former life behind him in the grove. As he slowly went on his way, his head was full of this thought. He reflected deeply, until this feeling completely overwhelmed him and he reached a point where he recognized causes; for to recognize causes, it seemed to him, is to think, and through thought alone feelings become knowledge and are not lost, but become real and begin to mature.”
“Meaning and reality were not hidden somewhere behind things, they were in them, in all of them. How deaf and stupid I have been, he thought, walking on quickly. When anyone reads anything which he wishes to study, he does not despise the letters and punctuation marks, and call them illusion, chance and worthless shells, but he reads them, he studies and loves them, letter by letter.”
“He did not seek reality; his goal was not on any other side. The world was beautiful when looked at in this way—without any seeking, so simple, so childlike. The moon and the stars were beautiful, the brook, the shore, the forest and rock, the goat and the golden beetle, the flower and butterfly were beautiful. It was beautiful and pleasant to go through the world like that, so childlike, so awakened, so concerned with the immediate, without any distrust. Elsewhere, the sun burned fiercely, elsewhere there was cool in the forest shade; elsewhere there were pumpkins and bananas.”
“‘Certainly I travelled for my pleasure,’ laughed Siddhartha. ‘Why not? I have become acquainted with people and new districts. I have enjoyed friendship and confidence. Now, if I had been Kamaswami, I should have departed immediately feeling very annoyed when I saw I was unable to make a purchase, and time and money would indeed have been lost. But I spent a number of good days, learned much, had much pleasure and did not hurt either myself or others through annoyance or hastiness. If I ever go there again, perhaps to buy a later harvest, or for some other purpose, friendly people will receive me and I will be glad that I did not previously display hastiness and displeasure.’”
“Siddhartha said, ‘It is the same with me as it is with you, my friend. I am not going anywhere. I am only on the way. I am making a pilgrimage.’”
“The ferryman smiled again. He touched Siddhartha’s arm gently and said: ‘Ask the river about it, my friend! Listen to it, laugh about it! Do you then really think that you have committed your follies in order to spare your son them? Can you then protect your son from Samsara? How? Through instruction, through prayers, through exhortation? My dear friend, have you forgotten that instructive story about Siddhartha, the Brahmin’s son, which you once told me here? Who protected Siddhartha the Samana from Samsara, from sin, greed and folly? Could his father’s piety, his teacher’s exhortations, his own knowledge, his own seeking, protect him? Which father, which teacher, could prevent him from living his own life, from soiling himself with life, from loading himself with sin, from swallowing the bitter drink himself, from finding his own path? Do you think, my dear friend, that anybody is spared this path? Perhaps your little son, because you would like to see him spared sorrow and pain and disillusionment? But if you were to die ten times for hi, you would not alter his destiny in the slightest.’”
“But now, since his son was there, he, Siddhartha, had become completely like one of the people, through sorrow, through loving. He was madly in love, a fool because of love. Now he also experienced belatedly, for once in his life, the strongest and strangest passion; he suffered tremendously through it and yet was uplifted, in some way renewed and richer.”
“‘When someone is seeking,’ said Siddhartha, ‘it happens quite easily that he only sees the thing that he is seeking; that he is unable to find anything, unable to absorb anything, because he is only thinking of the thing he is seeking, because he has a goal, because he is obsessed with his goal. Seeking means: to have a goal; but finding means: to be free, to be receptive, to have no goal. You, O worthy one, are perhaps indeed a seeker, for in striving towards your goal, you do not see many things that are under your nose.’”
“‘Therefore, it seems to me that everything that exists is good—death as well as life, sin as well as holiness, wisdom as well as folly. Everything is necessary, everything needs only my agreement, my assent, my loving understanding; then all is well with me and nothing can harm me. I learned through my body and soul that it was necessary for me to sin, that I needed lust, that I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary world, some imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and be glad to belong to it.’”
“‘But now I think: This stone is stone; it is also animal, God and Buddha. I do not respect and love it because it was one thing and will become something else, but because it has already long been everything and always is everything. I love it just because it is a stone, because today and now it appears to me a stone. I see value and meaning in each one of its fine markings and cavities, in the yellow, in the gray, in the hardness and the sound of it when I knock it, in the dryness or dampness of its surface. There are stones that feel like oil or soap, that look like leaves or sand, and each one is different and worships Om in its own way; each one is Brahman. At the same time it is very much stone, oily or soapy, and that is just what pleases me and seems wonderful and worthy or worship.”
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y3llowf4ng-blog · 8 years ago
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20 warriors questions
(note: these 20 questions are a tag made by butterflyidentity on youtube! even though i myself wasn’t tagged, i decided to answer these questions just so ya’ll don’t ask later :’) ) 
- how did you get into warriors? whooo boi, let’s go back to 2012, where i was obsessed with watching animations on youtube. i stumbled across  some rad cats fighting each other, then i got deeper into the fandom, spoiling myself even more, then i decided to buy in the books in norwegian but since the names were so badly translated (example, willowpelt is aquamarine in the norwegian books, do cats even know what an aquamarine is??) so i decided to purchase them on amazon in english! i’m currently on power of three, but i already know a lot of stuff. - favourite arc? out of all the three i have read (haven’t finished the third yet), definitely the first, original arc, the prophecies begin. everything’s really nice, tigerstar being the main villian of the first arc, us learning about all the clans and duties, it’s just amazing! imo the new prophecy is very boring, i mean, they’re on the go for 3 books, then they kinda get used to the territories and blah blah blah...
- favourite book? (excluding super editions, mangas, and novellas) forest of secrets!  so much stuff happens in that book, like silverstream dying, we find out who killed redtail, the battle with the rogues and tigerclaw getting exiled, i love it.
- favourite super edition, manga or novella? yellowfang’s secret!!
out of all the super editions, mangas and novellas i have (firestar’s quest, bluestar’s prophecy and the rise of scourge), yellowfang’s secret is definitely the best one. it’s probably because it’s set in a whole different clan. but when i first read the first chapters, i was enchanted! the description of the enviornrment (even though it was leafbare like 80% of the time) was amazing. it felt as if i was actually there, in shadowclan camp, and yellowfang’s exile broke my heart :’( 
- favourite clan? my fam riverclan (ironically i’m scared of swimming in rivers, oceans and lakes irl lmao)
- favourite character? MY GIRL YELLOWFANG!! i love her so much you have no idea, my lil grump (surprisingly i dislike jayfeather haha) <33 yellowfang will always be no. 1, but i also like russetfur, hollyleaf, tawnypelt, leopardstar,brackenfur, longtail and manyyyy more!
- least favourite character? foxheart. i DESPISE her. when reading yellowfang’s secret, she was probably the first character that i was really happy to see die and i just wanted to rip her guts out?? i mean gosh, she was the biggest bitch ever, getting under raggedstar’s paws 24/7, but i mean, he made foxheart deputy to make yellowfang jealous which is really bitchy too, but i don’t dislike raggedstar as much as foxheart, even though he was a dick sometimes. i also dislike spottedleaf, i mean jfc, firestar was wondering who to pick out of sandstorm and spottedleaf even though sandstorm was who he had kits with, and she stayed at his side every time, and spottedleaf was just a “childhood crush” of his, was it even ever mentioned in into the wild that he really liked her?? he just kinda said “goodbye my sweet spottedleaf” when she died, even though im pretty sure it never mentioned how he felt about her? correct me if i’m wrong, i still hate spottedleaf though, mooning over firestar from starclan.
- most aesthetically pleasing cat? mmm, goldenflower, tawnypelt and heatherstar i suppose! when it comes to goldenflower, i’m a sucker for golden tabby she-cats (i also have a lil headcanon that she wears a small flower behind her ear ovo). tawnypelt, i loveeeee pale tortoiseshells!! she’s a beaut. lastly, heatherstar! if you haven’t read any of the super editions you’re more than likely confused about who this is. she was a windclan leader before tallstar! pinkish-gray cats sound really cute to me, and i just cant really describe how i like her design?? jayfeather’s also cool when it comes to his design i guess *shrug*.
- favourite leader? my boy sunstar! he was a really good leader, sadly, his leadership didn’t last long because of stupid pinestar who had to leave thunderclan and because of that sunstar had 1 less life :/ he was also a very good mentor to bluepaw/fur/star! he’s a goof that i love :’)
- favourite villian? bad boy brokenstar. all the things he did, training kits under 6 moons to become apprentices, drive out the elders from camp into the forest, kill with no hesitation, yet i still like him. he’s great for some reason! 
- favourite medicine cat? i’d say yellowfang, but since she’s already my favourite character out of all, i’ll go with cinderpelt or goosefeather. cinderpelt because she’s also another goof, with a sad backstory (her leg), yet she’s still okay with it. goosefeather on the other hand, he’s another grump that i like! i have spoiled myself a lot already on goosefeather’s curse, and i’m guessing that he received alotta prophecies at once (idontreallyknow)? he already knew that tigerkit would grow up to be the danger of the forest even when he wasnt even an apprentice.  - overrated character? oh gee... scourge. that edgelord is overrated as heckk. i’m not the biggest fan of him, but i don’t hate him. i guess jayfeather is also overrated. some people even refer to him as “jaybae” which is um, bizarre i suppose.
- underrated character? good ol’ runningwind. he’s a great character, not to mention he’s actually mousefur’s brother, which i totally forgot about. tbh his death was kind of sad :/ STILL, i demand more fanart of runningwind >:(
- favourite minor character? thrushpelt, rosetail and brackenfur. they don’t get all the love they deserve which is really sad?? rosetail’s death was only mentioned like ONE time in into the wild, which sucks!! thrushpelt got rejected by bluefur, which is kinda sad, but he still promised her to keep her kits safe even though they weren’t his, which is very nice of him to stay strong even after getting rejected. brackenfur’s just someone who i liked from the beginning. he always stayed at his sister’s side (brackenfur & cinderpelt are one of my favourite silbings, only with ashfur and ferncloud in the front!).
- favourite pairing? either brightheart and cloudtail, or firestar and sandstorm. both pairings are cute as heck, even though both the toms kinda ignored their mate at some point (cloudtail & daisy and firestar & spottedleaf)
- least favourite pairing? leafpool and crowfeather. honestly it’s as if the erins just added it to make leafpool a more “interesting” character?? they chill out together away from the clans for like less than a moon, then leafpool gets back, few moons later, poof! kits! it’s a really bad “couple” ugh
- favourite friendship? good ol’ fireheart and greystripe! it’s like they were destined to be bffs, or bluestar maybe got a prophecy to send out graypaw to spy on rusty?? nah jk i’m not that stupid. but those two before power of three would do anything for each other. love em. 
- favourite moment? the daylight gathering in the sight! that was probably the best thing in the book. even though it was short, it was really snazzy! i loved the fight between heatherpaw and hollypaw, and the leaders announcing the “winners”! thanks squirrelflight, love ya gal *smooch* i also love the moment where hollypaw tells brook that she no longer wants to be a medicine cat apprentice, and brook’s like “go ahead, tell leafpool, it’s okay!” i love both of them so much hhhngh
- most tragic death? okay, not gonna lie, i cried for about 2-3 hours straight after yellowfang’s death. buuuut i gotta admit, snowfur and moonflower’s deaths were also pretty sad, except i only cried at moonflower’s death out of those two. hawkheart was pretty serious about keeping windclan’s herbs safe tbh.. OKAY BUT LET’S NOT FORGET SWEETPAW. she was the sweetest (no pun intended) :(
- favourite battle/fight scene? the hawkfrost and brambleclaw one in sunset was pretty intense, though i probably like the bloodclan battle the most even though whitestorm died then :(. it was so intense like omg?? 
so there!! finally!! 20 questions answered! this took me probably an hour oops, i just thought over my answers a lot. so yeah, credit goes to butterflyidentity for making these questions and making it possible for me and many others to answer them! i doubt anyone will read this, but w/e, i still had fun writing the answers :’)
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sarahburness · 7 years ago
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The Introvert’s Hate/Hate Relationship With Spontaneity
“The man who is prepared has his battle half fought.” ~Miguel De Cervantes
They say you should live in the present, and “they” form a chorus of voices that is growing in number by the second. Everywhere you turn these days, the message is loud and clear: life is better when you live in the moment.
I get it; I really do. I know that when I hit that flow state, regardless of what I’m immersed in, time passes in a heartbeat and I tend to really enjoy myself.
It’s just that I would prefer it if I could plan those moments of flow some time in advance. I want—no I need—to prepare myself for the event of letting go. I need to be mentally ready so that I may jump into the river and let the current take me.
If I’m not prepared, that river turns out to be less of a serene, meandering brook, and more a surge of cascading torrents that pummel my senses until I’m half-drowned and ready to give up.
This is why I, the introvert, despise spontaneity in all its forms.
The first few weeks of university really tested me. I lived on campus in a dorm where I shared a communal kitchen with eleven other people. It didn’t matter what night of the week it was, there were people heading out to a bar, restaurant, or club.
I’d often get a knock at my bedroom door and an invitation to one of these nightly excursions: “Oh, hey, me, Johnny, and Mike are heading to {insert one of many different venues} for some beers. You wanna join us?”
At this point I’d be searching every corner of my mind for a reasonable excuse, a Get Out Of Jail Free card that would save me the pain of just saying no. I knew that if I did just decline without justification, I’d get the inevitable looks of astonishment as if I were turning down the opportunity of a lifetime.
“It’s Wednesday.” No, that won’t do.
“I’m tired.” Not going to cut it.
“I’ve just sat down to catch up on Friends.” Watch it another time, I’d be told.
I wanted to tell them the truth, but can you imagine what they’d have said? “Oh, thanks for the invite guys, but I’m an introvert and I can’t stand being spontaneous. Maybe another time, assuming you give me seven days notice in writing.”
Instead, I’d often just mumble something incoherent about how I’ve got a paper due the next day, or how I’m just on the phone to my parents. They usually got the message.
I didn’t avoid nights out entirely; I can be quite a social character when I want to be. I just made sure that I was mentally prepared beforehand. I’d agree (with myself in advance) that I was going out on a particular night, and I made sure I spent plenty of time alone in the afternoon or early evening to recharge my batteries ready for the oncoming festivities.
Eventually, I had a nice little routine going. I’d go out on Monday most weeks, Friday some weeks, Saturday almost every week, and the occasional Thursday. No other nights really got a look-in. And it tended to be the same set of places each time because of certain student promotions or theme nights.
What’s more, my friends knew when I was and was not going to accept their invitations, so they stopped knocking when they knew it was a waste of their time.
Somehow, I had managed to appear fairly sociable and outgoing while avoiding anything unexpected. I had planned my way out of spontaneity.
Structure: An Introvert’s Best Friend
My experiences as a student might not exactly mirror your situation, but as a fellow introvert, I’m sure you can relate to the need for structure and routine in your life.
There are few things less enjoyable for an introvert than being coerced into some random activity at some unplanned time with unfamiliar people. It’s literally our Kryptonite.
We simply cannot handle the unknowns: Where are we going? What is the place like? What will we be doing there? Who else is going? How are we getting there?
Perhaps the uncertainty that scares us most is not knowing when it will end. Social activity drains us, but spontaneous social activity burns through our energy reserves in double-quick time because of how much we have to think, react, and absorb when we’re not mentally ready for it.
If there’s no clear time at which things will draw to a close, we panic, knowing we’ll be utterly spent in the not-too-distant future.
Put some structure in place—primarily in the form of plenty of warning—and we will be able to extract far more enjoyment out of the very same event or activity. When we know it’s coming, we have time to open ourselves up to the possibility of enjoying ourselves. We remove our shackles and move more freely, both physically and mentally.
Be Confident In Your Boundaries
The reason I found those early weeks of university so difficult was because I felt bad saying no to people. I wanted to make friends as much as the next person, and I always had this nagging feeling that my refusal to take part would see me labelled as boring.
Somehow or another it all worked out, but I could have avoided plenty of insecurity had I just understood that putting personal boundaries in place is not a sign of weakness. I did say no to people, and I did it a lot. These days, I’m much more comfortable doing it, and it reduces the anxiety I feel around spontaneity itself.
I know I can turn down anything I don’t feel like doing, and I don’t worry so much about what other people think. I’ve learnt that, actually, most spontaneous people care a lot less about receiving a no from introverts like you or I. Or rather, they get over the rejection quickly because they’re too busy just getting on with whatever spontaneous act it is they are doing.
In these situations, it’s the introverts who tend to overthink everything. You may dwell on the exchange for hours after it happened, considering all of the possible ways you could have handled it better or the consequences of your refusal. The big deal exists almost entirely in your head. So it’s in your head that the battle must be won.
The challenge is to know your boundaries intimately and to build them strong and sturdy so that you are able to confidently say no to offers and invitations that you either have not planned for or do not think you’d enjoy. No is not a dirty word and you shouldn’t be afraid of using it.
Take The Reigns Yourself
There is a relatively simple way to avoid spontaneous requests from others: get in there first. You want a plan in place, right? You crave structure in your life. Then create the plan and add the structure yourself.
Don’t wait for your friends to suggest you meet up that night, or the next night for dinner. Suggest a date and a time that feels comfortable for you. A few days time, next week, in a fortnight; it doesn’t matter as long as it gives you enough time to prepare mentally.
And if you know that these events tend to happen naturally every couple of months, keep this in mind and put a note on your calendar to start suggesting dates well in advance. This also has the added benefit of making you seem like the sociable one because you’re doing much of the organizing.
Yes, you may be an introvert, but that doesn’t mean you don’t ever want to see anyone. We introverts can enjoy ourselves as much as anyone else, but having some forewarning will only serve to make the whole process more compatible with your needs and wishes.
About Steve Waller
Steve Waller is a big believer in the power of self-improvement and wants to see others open themselves up to the possibilities of life. He took this passion and founded A Conscious Rethink—a blog dedicated to helping others overcome the roadblocks they face on their paths. You can also follow him on Facebook and Pinterest.
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The post The Introvert’s Hate/Hate Relationship With Spontaneity appeared first on Tiny Buddha.
from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/the-introverts-hatehate-relationship-with-spontaneity/
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mdlxxxix · 7 years ago
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Share: The Cannibal Galaxy
The Cannibal Galaxy (Highlight: 62; Note: 0) ------------- "Half the people love, half the people hate. And where is my place between these halves that are so well matched? And through what crack shall I see the white housing-projects of my dreams, and the bare­ foot runners on the sands or, at least, the A uttering of the girl's kerchief, by the hill? " "three buildings were middling-high, Aat-roofed, moderately modern. Behind them, the lake cast out glimmers of things primeval, cryptic, obscure. These waters had a history of turbu­ lence: they had knocked freighters to pieces in tidal storms. Now and then the lake took human life. " "and then the lake took human life. In the mornings, well before the first rumble of the early buses, the Principal would come down from his dark and sagging rooms and run to the beach. He was a bachelor of fifty-eight, and still a good runner. In the misted green rain of May the water looked Aat and impervious, as if a dead membrane had been stretched over it. The waves were without rise or fall. On other mornings the whole circle of the lake wheeled its dazzle of brass like another sun. Crayfish shells cut into the rubber of the Principal's sneakers. That was one side of the school. " "The school was on a large lake in the breast-pocket of the continent, pouched and crouched in inwardness. It was as though it had a horror of coasts and margins; of edges and extremes of any sort. The school was of the middle and in the middle. Its" "three buildings were middling-high, Aat-roofed, moderately modern. Behind them, the lake cast out glimmers of things primeval, cryptic, obscure. These waters had a history of turbu­ lence: they had knocked freighters to pieces in tidal storms. Now and then the lake took human life. " "He thought how even the stars are mere instances and artifacts of a topological cartography of imagined dimensions; he reflected on that mathe­ matical region wherein everything can be invented, and out of which the-things-that-are select their forms of being from among the illimitable plenitude of the-things-that-might-be. " " gravity and chemicals." "An image is an image," "A puddle still trickled from the center of the pyre; a transparent spiral of vapor curled out of its flank." "strange hairinesses" "Sweat spilled from behind Joseph's ears down into the well of his collarbone; it was July." "By a transposition of the senses, M. de Cambremer looked at you with his nose. This nose of his was not ugly, it was if anything too handsome, too bold, too proud of its own importance. Arched, polished, gleaming, brand new, it was amply prepared to atone for the inadequacy of his eyes. Unfortunately, if the eyes are sometimes the organ through which our intelligence is revealed, the nose (to leave out of account the intimate solidarity and the unsuspected repercussion of one feature upon the rest), the nose is generally the organ in which stupidity is most readily displayed." " possess a fish pond, and if a child is careless in his studies, I bribe him by giving him some of the fish and thus win him over to study." " "He was fixed on getting out of Europe; on leaving France; and sometimes, when he lay curled among bird droppings and the droppings of small rodents and bats, he dreamed of razing Paris to the ground-so that it would look like the prilliant mead­ ows all around him, the wilderness of meadows that piled gold upon gold until they came to the lip of the brook." "He devoted himself to the study of the possibility of liquid nitrogen oceans on distant satellites; he puzzled over faraway frac­ tures and vapors; he brooded about whether the rings of Saturn were electrically charged. He had re-entered civilization: then why did he feel desiccated? Why, stretching toward the margins of the remotest blue haze, did he judge himself to be middling? Through telescopes as huge as chimneys he looked toward the mathemati­ cal spheres. The radio emissions of orbs and powers and particles wheeled by in their shining dress. He was discovering himself not to be a discoverer-both too shabby and too cunning for the stars, so he abandoned his life to the chances and devisings of another continent" "She was in fact abundantly aged, even hallowed; " " vehicles instinct with secretion" "vehicles instinct with secretion: the pocket­ mouth of the uterus, motherhood red in tooth and claw." "beautiful, always at the edge of evening, with the shining yellow arc of sand fading from its June butteriness to filmy gray to the kind of pink mirage that lasts only a fraction of a second before the depth of the true dark. " "perfume reduced to hieroglyph" "the curves of the base strokes like" "Already the resem­ blance was waning. A fleeting aberration of his own, set off by the pure bell of the mother-tongue cleanly striking. Among" " A fleeting aberration of his own, set off by the pure bell of the mother-tongue cleanly striking. " "Miss Trittschuh," ""you want a silk purse out of the wrong animal's ear." " " Nights he lay down beside the flickering planetary glow of the television, sick with infatuation. " " his stomach swarmed with too many organs" "her. Her vocabulary was even more offensive than her sweat." " Her vocabulary was even more offensive than her sweat. " "of flight, meteorites are the brightest passengers of the ether." What lace, what rodomontade! His mouth churned gewgaws, ribbons, fragments of fake ermine. All the same, he did not think of himself as a flatterer; he despised his antagonists too much. " "together cried out into the crevasse of the icy planet" "molds, to bring form into being. He acknowledged-now that he was looking for it-how she worked to make a frame for every idea. Her ideas were peculiarly athwart, as if in parody. She set out-she mimicked-every rational scheme, but with the almost imperceptible screw-turn of her malignant smile. He had witnessed that smile only once, and for only a moment; but retrospectively, toiling through her work, he learned the quality of its tight-stretched mirth. It was strange to think she had a child. Profoundly, illim­ itably, he knew the mothers; she was not like any of them. The unselfconscious inexorable secretion ran in all of them. From morning to night they were hurtled forward by the explosions of internal rivers, with their roar of force and pressure. The mothers were rafts on their own instinctual flood. Encirclement, preser­ vation, defense, protection: that was the roar and force. That was why they lived, and how: to make a roiling moat around their offspring. The ardor of their lives was directed toward nothing else, and though it seemed to be otherwise, they were in the pinch of nature's vise, they were contained in an illusion of freedom: as the bee in midflight is unaware its purpose is honey, and supposes each flight to be for flight's sake, so the mothers went here and there, and did this and that, and believed one thing and another, but all for an immovable and unsubtle end. And their offspring too would one day be the same: aggressive, arrogant, pervicacious: the gland's defense of the necessary shove toward continuity" "&er this he was afraid to telephone her again. She was impatient with stragglers. Ad astra; and he had stopped too soon. She was ambitious in a way he had never before encountered, or, if he had, he had forgotten it. Her ambi­ tion was the same as desire, and her desire was unlike his; it had long ago put away dream. Her ambition, her desire, was to cast " "fragmented but thorough" "a funerary mound pouting between short legs. " "" he knew at once which mid rash it would be, and could not, for himself, see the connection with her subject. " "when the first is accom­ plished and future repair is most chimerical. " " It was unlike her books-more fevered with parody, and then contorted beyond parody, so that once again it seemed wholly straightforward. In" "It was unlike her books-more fevered with parody, and then contorted beyond parody, so that once again it seemed wholly straightforward. " "distant unforgotten talk (the laughter of Akiva, he privately named it), he dangled on the rim of infatuation after all; then pulled back. Safe. Again he had stopped too soon, but was glad of it:-he had his wits still. She engrossed him, she engaged him, she drew him. No longer diffident, he sought the telephone often, and it was curious that she was almost always there, accessible to his wish, and willing enough to bend toward him for ten minutes at a time. He reflected that, on her side, it was the obligation of the bargain she had struck; it must be for the sake of the child. But he could do nothing for her child. He could not. He saw the fourth grade flash by, then the fifth, the sixth, the years frantically counted in grades, and all these flashings, these passings, were his tragedy, because it was not given to him to chase time through to its disclosures. If Beulah left the sixth grade, the sixth grade was still there, altered not at all; the sixth grade and all the other grades were all he had; the sixth grade never vanished, though one day Beulah would; however many children vanished, time would not move; there was again a sixth grade, and would be into eternity, and he, who could not abolish the timelessness of all this, felt the thoroughness, the repletion, of the curse of perpetuity. Hydra­ headed replenishment, Keats's urn, but overflowing. No form grows old in such a hell. " "For a few months following that " "He was proud of this letter. How well-written it was! It took him a whole night. It made him feel restored, enlarged; it was as if he had ennobled himself by fitting together, shard by shard, an almost-forgotten palace. Once he had known himself to be just such an honorable soul, a man of faith and sincerity buried in a dungeon in Egypt, with just such a gift for the phraseology of idealism. "Pupils need to have confidence in the meticulous attention of teachers-again, attention not to marks, but to the instillation of trust." While he was writing this sentence, and just as the long dash made its stripe, his vital organs seemed to swell inside their envelope of red flesh, and it was as if he stood in the after-school muteness and greenness, leaning his breast toward the road. " " He told her what he had never expected to tell: how Rabbi Pult had once beckoned Gabriel and Loup close to his chair among the brown­ glass brine bottles (though in the telling he omitted the bottles and the back room of the poissonnerie) and said, in their small brother's hearing, ''Always negate. Negate, negate"; and how he, young as he was, was horrified, because he believed Rabbi Pult was purposing to distort his brothers by drawing them, old as they were, from the society of the normal. "They were big boys then, into their teens," he explained. " ""I always think of the abnormal," he said. "It's a form of self­ regard." It" ""I always think of the abnormal," he said. "It's a form of self­ regard." " ". It was as if she lived without anecdote; as if nothing had ever happened to her. Only mind. She was free of event because she was in thrall to idea. Yet the child was there, had been born, in the regular way, out of the fork of a woman. Despite everything she was in contradiction with herself: she had given birth to her opposite. An opposite is an opponent; perhaps she hated the child, was sickened by her blankness, abased by her insipidness-or did she never think of the child at all? Yet the child was fed, dressed, attended to. Did the philosopher ever talk to her daughter? He wished he could eavesdrop at bedtime. " " It was as if she lived without anecdote; as if nothing had ever happened to her. Only mind. She was free of event because she was in thrall to idea. Yet the child was there, had been born, in the regular way, out of the fork of a woman. " "Brill believed she would surely be engaged before the school year was out. Unexpectedly she fell into a reliable spinsterhood. She developed a scowl and he did not lose her. " "The washed sand was a snowfall. Quickly the heels of his sneakers were sucked down and buried. The waves were white, like snowy beards shearing themselves. The white dawn hesitated behind all that sharper whiteness. In the cold, sunk in that snow­ sand pocked by those primeval shells (the life in them cleaned out, scooped, eaten, decomposed, the shell-walls polished, pearly, snow white), he decided to marry." "cee who lived alone with her child, a boy six years old. She seemed unreasonably tall, taller than any of the secretaries, taller than the teachers, taller than himself, and this appealed to him. He was drawn to heights of every kind. " "He gave the job to a twenty-nine-year-old young woman with an elderly bun, black and shining as fresh tar, and blue-black ink-moist bangs, a divor-" "boyhood, and they were as familiar to him as his own bedclothes. These domesticated and intimate syllables had all at once taken on an enchantment, an illumination. He was stunned by what he heard in them. He left the prayer hall exulting, strange even to himself. As soon as he crossed the threshold someone spoke to him, a fellow student. Brill rebuffed him. He was sharp; he was coiled and cold in his own strangeness. The rabbi-it was Pult­ came out and summoned him back. "Joseph," Pult said, "come here and daven. You have not davened." Brill protested, "Rabbi, I just finished davening. You saw me. You heard me." Pult said: "If you pray and then you go out and embarrass someone, you have not prayed." " "? Fish after the grain of language, she instructed him, look for the idiom in the wilderness of a narrative; distrust poetry. He already did. In reality the heavens are gases and express physics. He told her that when he was a young man-he was still in the earliest stages of his study of vapors-he had once prayed very deeply. The liturgy that afternoon penetrated the secret channels of his brain; he understood his mouth's work for the first time, even though he had chanted those same words every day from" "Every image, she said, has its logic: every story, every tale, every metaphor, every mood, is inhabited by a language of just deserts. " "There was a white wart beneath one of them, caught in a bluish well." ""The term is only a few weeks gone. And it made good sense last year," Brill blew out, pushing them out to sea, "to dismiss Mrs. Fischeltier three weeks before the end of the term. What transpired then, you may recall, was that I was asked to be sensi­ tive to the protests of some of the very same ladies present in this group." He knew "transpired" was vulgar; that was why he had used it. "Fischeltier was an idiot," Mrs. Dorothea Luchs said. "She insulted Corinna. She wouldn't let her ask questions. She called Corinna a monopolizer. She said Corinna was running the show. I don't want my kid talked to that way." This animal beauty of hers was repugnant to Brill; she was as straight as a cat or a boy. Her little mouth was lovely, her flawless teeth more so. Her eyes were as widely spaced as a fawn's-as Claude's. How aggressive she was, how he despised her aggressive energies! " "room. Peering toward Beulah's desk, Brill glimpsed a drawing of a house, with smoke. Immature. He supposed the smoke was rising out of the chimney. The third-graders did that. He looked again: the whole house was on fire, and the trees all around it, even the sky behind-a conflagration. " "Thereafter he watched Sheskin. Principal Brill moved quietly along the rear of the classroom and listened to the lesson. He understood at once that the yeshiva student had no obvious personality and appeared to believe in sacred texts. He was like a plain blotter through which the old words seeped. He was also no disciplinarian, and Brill began to suspect that as soon as the awe of unfamiliarity brought on by a new teacher ebbed-four days, five-Gorchak's old classroom would be a howling chaos. Mean­ while the voice was sweet, devoted to the page under the young rabbi's flat fingertips. The eighth grade bent over notebooks, and Brill, stretching out his short neck (heroic, he thought of the sacrifice of Fifferling, the debasement of Gorchak), observed the flowering of a multitude of doodles-tigers, mermaids, planes, supermen, disembodied eyes and teeth, decorative friezes composed of wings and florets. Sheskin reprimanded no one. The doodles went on and on: circles, balloons, eggs, dogs' ears, women's lips and breasts; a kind of trance had set in. The room was in concen­ tration. Old King David was dying. He was dying in this very " "Something came to him then, a clairvoyance, as if he had gotten hold of a thread leading to a great dew-flecked web: frag­ ments of light in a shadowed cranny. If he tugged on a single vein of it, the web would rupture, the drops of light fall into one bright globule. A pool ofknowing. He did not go on with it. H� crowded the sheets back into their packet; he could not keep his eyes from the new clerk-receptionist's blue-black bangs. Iris or Daisy. He had hired Rabbi Sheskin and the new clerk-receptionist a day apart-she told him this was significant, it made her a sort of twin to Rabbi Sheskin, even though she didn't relate to anything spiri­ tual. Cain wasn't Abel, and that was the whole of her metaphysi­ cal learning. She was cheeky with him; he was amazed. It passed through his conscience that the right thing to do would be to sack her; but that was only a whim. Whim after senseless whim. Losing Fifferling, demoting Gorchak, replacing Gorchak, all these loos­ enings and braidings of his forces laid down as an offering before Hester Lilt-who spurned them. All the same he could do what he pleased, he was a man in possession of an entire society, he was a potentate. " "The next week he received from Hester Lilt-in a wide brown envelope carried to school by Beulah, marked BY HAND, and mutely delivered to the clerk-receptionist with the blue-black bangs-a new essay. He surmised that it was a kind of spite. She meant to Aatter him. Her Aattery was spite, willing at last to acknowledge his homage-how drawn he was to the prodigy of her mind. He was somehow now not so drawn. She intended her genius to punish him. He pulled the printed sheets out of the envelope and surveyed the title: On Structure in Silence. He read: Silence is not random but shaping. It is like the empty air around the wing, that delineates the wing .... " "It was a beautiful evening-the lawns newly mowed, brightly verdant, the crickets yelping high. The Phlegethon simmered black and red. In a certain deep stone-littered dell where the mower could not go without endangering its axle, the uncut dandelions in their hundreds burned yellow as butter. " "In a modest recess near a door, massive, with the effulgence of a flood of white arrows, "
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dfroza · 4 years ago
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“Guard well this incomparable treasure
by the Spirit of Holiness living within you.”
this is how Paul begins his 2nd Letter to Timothy
[Introduction]
From Paul, an apostle of Jesus the Messiah, appointed by God’s pleasure to announce the wonderful promise of life found in Jesus, the anointed Messiah.
My beloved son, I pray for a greater release of God’s grace, love, and total well-being to flow into your life from God our Father and from our Lord Jesus Christ!
You know that I’ve been called to serve the God of my fathers with a clean conscience. Night and day I pray for you, thanking God for your life! I know that you have wept for me, your spiritual father, and your tears are dear to me. I can’t wait to see you again! I’m filled with joy as I think of your strong faith that was passed down through your family line. It began with your grandmother Lois, who passed it on to your dear mother, Eunice. And it’s clear that you too are following in the footsteps of their godly example.
I’m writing to encourage you to fan into a flame and rekindle the fire of the spiritual gift God imparted to you when I laid my hands upon you. For God will never give you the spirit of fear, but the Holy Spirit who gives you mighty power, love, and self-control. So never be ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, nor be embarrassed over my imprisonment, but overcome every evil by the revelation of the power of God! He gave us resurrection life and drew us to himself by his holy calling on our lives. And it wasn’t because of any good we have done, but by his divine pleasure and marvelous grace that confirmed our union with the anointed Jesus, even before time began! This truth is now being unveiled by the revelation of the anointed Jesus, our life-giver, who has dismantled death, obliterating all its effects on our lives, and has manifested his immortal life in us by the gospel.
And he has anointed me as his preacher, his apostle, and his teacher of truth to the nations. The confidence of my calling enables me to overcome every difficulty without shame, for I have an intimate revelation of this God. And my faith in him convinces me that he is more than able to keep all that I’ve placed in his hands safe and secure until the fullness of his appearing.
Allow the healing words you’ve heard from me to live in you and make them a model for life as your faith and love for the Anointed One grows even more. Guard well this incomparable treasure by the Spirit of Holiness living within you.
Perhaps you’ve heard that Phygelus, and Hermogenes and all the believers of Asia have deserted me because of my imprisonment. Nevertheless, so many times Onesiphorus was like a breath of fresh air to me and never seemed to be ashamed of my chains. May our Lord Jesus bestow compassion and mercy upon him and his household. For when he arrived in Rome, he searched and searched for me until he found out where I was being held, so that he could minister to me, just like he did so wonderfully as I rested in his house while in Ephesus, as you well know.
May Jesus, our Master, give him abundant mercy in the day he stands before him.
The Letter of 2nd Timothy, Chapter 1 (The Passion Translation)
Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 24th chapter of 2nd Kings that documents the exile to Babylon due to God’s Judgment:
It was during his reign that Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon invaded the country. Jehoiakim became his puppet. But after three years he had had enough and revolted.
God dispatched a succession of raiding bands against him: Babylonian, Aramean, Moabite, and Ammonite. The strategy was to destroy Judah. Through the preaching of his servants and prophets, God had said he would do this, and now he was doing it. None of this was by chance—it was God’s judgment as he turned his back on Judah because of the enormity of the sins of Manasseh—Manasseh, the killer-king, who made the Jerusalem streets flow with the innocent blood of his victims. God wasn’t about to overlook such crimes.
The rest of the life and times of Jehoiakim is written in The Chronicles of the Kings of Judah. Jehoiakim died and was buried with his ancestors. His son Jehoiachin became the next king.
The threat from Egypt was now over—no more invasions by the king of Egypt—for by this time the king of Babylon had captured all the land between the Brook of Egypt and the Euphrates River, land formerly controlled by the king of Egypt.
[Jehoiachin of Judah]
Jehoiachin was eighteen years old when he became king. His rule in Jerusalem lasted only three months. His mother’s name was Nehushta daughter of Elnathan; she was from Jerusalem. In God’s opinion he also was an evil king, no different from his father.
The next thing to happen was that the officers of Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon attacked Jerusalem and put it under siege. While his officers were laying siege to the city, Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon paid a personal visit. And Jehoiachin king of Judah, along with his mother, officers, advisors, and government leaders, surrendered.
In the eighth year of his reign Jehoiachin was taken prisoner by the king of Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar emptied the treasuries of both The Temple of God and the royal palace and confiscated all the gold furnishings that Solomon king of Israel had made for The Temple of God. This should have been no surprise—God had said it would happen. And then he emptied Jerusalem of people—all its leaders and soldiers, all its craftsmen and artisans. He took them into exile, something like ten thousand of them! The only ones he left were the very poor.
He took Jehoiachin into exile to Babylon. With him he took the king’s mother, his wives, his chief officers, the community leaders, anyone who was anybody—in round numbers, seven thousand soldiers plus another thousand or so craftsmen and artisans, all herded off into exile in Babylon.
Then the king of Babylon made Jehoiachin’s uncle, Mattaniah, his puppet king, but changed his name to Zedekiah.
[Zedekiah of Judah]
Zedekiah was twenty-one years old when he started out as king. He was king in Jerusalem for eleven years. His mother’s name was Hamutal the daughter of Jeremiah. Her hometown was Libnah.
As far as God was concerned Zedekiah was just one more evil king, a carbon copy of Jehoiakim.
The source of all this doom to Jerusalem and Judah was God’s anger—God turned his back on them as an act of judgment. And then Zedekiah revolted against the king of Babylon.
The Book of 2nd Kings, Chapter 24 (The Message)
my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, december 29 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs
A post by John Parsons about the fear (reverence) of Heaven:
Reading the news of the world is a demonstration of Romans 1:28: "Since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God gave them up to a debased mind to do what ought not to be done." This is the word that describes our godless and brazen generation: "Because they hated knowledge and did not choose the fear of the LORD (יראת יהוה), they refused my counsel and despised my reproof, therefore they shall eat the fruit of their way, and have their fill of their own devices" (Prov. 1:29-1:31). God is patient and loving, of course, though there comes a time when his patience runs out, when -- after repeated warning and appeals -- a culture tragically hardens its heart further and further until God withdraws and people are left to their own vain imaginations and darkened impulses.
A widely accepted maxim of the Talmud is: "All is in the hands of God except the fear of heaven (yirat shamayim)" (Berachot 33b; Niddah 16b). In other words, though God constantly showers the world with grace and light, He does not “force” us to revere His Presence but rather leaves that choice with us. Of course God could overwhelm us all so that we had no choice but to see and fear Him, but He “withdraws” Himself and restrains His influence in our lives so that we can exercise faith. As Blaise Pascal said, "there is enough light for those who want to believe, and enough shadows to blind those who don't." The Hebrew word for seeing (ראה) and the word for fearing (ירא) share the same root. We cannot genuinely "choose life" apart from personally seeing it, but we cannot see it apart from the reverence of God. The reverence of God sanctifies our perception and enables us to see clearly. Therefore the righteous “walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Cor. 5:7). [Hebrew for Christians]
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12.28.20 • Facebook
and another post about seeds:
"Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. The one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life" (Gal. 6:8). Here we see the importance of feeding the divine nature given to us in Messiah - to "sow" or "plant" truth within our hearts so that we will yield the "fruit of righteousness." However, feeding the lower nature, gratifying the desires of the flesh, disregarding the truth of eternity for the sake of temporal pleasure, and so on, leads to corruption and to death. Spirituality (רוּחניוּת), then, is of utmost importance to us, as we learn to "renew our minds" and yield ourselves to the truth of God (Gal. 5:16). We are engaged in the battle daily - an internal struggle to direct our hearts and to make the decision to be awake to the Lord’s Presence or to surrender to our fallenness, fear, and despair. The Lord has promised us his very strength for the battle, but we must choose to believe in order to receive the blessing. Since God will surely help us as we seek to do His will (see 1 John 5:14), let us therefore draw near to the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need (Heb. 4:16). God makes the way of escape (1 Cor. 10:13). The LORD God Almighty says to your heart: "Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God: I will strengthen you, yea, I will help you, yea, I will uphold you the right hand of my righteousness (Isa. 41:10). [Hebrew for Christians]
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https://hebrew4christians.com/
12.28.20 • Facebook
Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research
December 29, 2020
True Education
“For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the LORD, to do justice and judgment; that the LORD may bring upon Abraham that which he hath spoken of him.” (Genesis 18:19)
This is a very important verse comprising the first direct reference in the Bible to what we today would call education, and it is given in connection with God’s approving testimony concerning Abraham. Note that nothing is said concerning degrees or diplomas, the sciences or humanities, school buildings or textbooks.
It does tell us that God’s highest priority in the training of the young is that they learn to “keep the way of the LORD, to do justice and judgment.” Such instruction is the responsibility of the home—not of the government or some educational association. It is to be given in the context of God’s promises and plans (thus in the context of divine revelation) and is to be framed in terms of “commands.”
This is also the teaching of the New Testament: “Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord” (Ephesians 6:4).
The Bible never refers to “education,” but there are many references to teaching, learning, and instruction. There are no references to teaching under the sponsorship of the government, however. As far as biblical precepts and examples are concerned, teaching the young is strictly a function of the home and the church (this could no doubt include several homes and churches cooperating in the provision of advanced or specialized instruction). Most importantly, all instruction, in every subject, should be governed by biblical criteria, for “all Scripture...is profitable...for instruction....That the man of God may be perfect [i.e., ‘fully prepared’]” (2 Timothy 3:16-17) for the work God wants him to do. HMM
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dfroza · 4 years ago
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At the closing of a Letter
Paul points to the significance of planting seeds in life, and what they grow into...
Today’s reading from the New Testament is the 6th chapter of Galatians
[Nothing but the Cross]
Live creatively, friends. If someone falls into sin, forgivingly restore him, saving your critical comments for yourself. You might be needing forgiveness before the day’s out. Stoop down and reach out to those who are oppressed. Share their burdens, and so complete Christ’s law. If you think you are too good for that, you are badly deceived.
Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life.
Be very sure now, you who have been trained to a self-sufficient maturity, that you enter into a generous common life with those who have trained you, sharing all the good things that you have and experience.
Don’t be misled: No one makes a fool of God. What a person plants, he will harvest. The person who plants selfishness, ignoring the needs of others—ignoring God!—harvests a crop of weeds. All he’ll have to show for his life is weeds! But the one who plants in response to God, letting God’s Spirit do the growth work in him, harvests a crop of real life, eternal life.
So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit. Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith.
Now, in these last sentences, I want to emphasize in the bold scrawls of my personal handwriting the immense importance of what I have written to you. These people who are attempting to force the ways of circumcision on you have only one motive: They want an easy way to look good before others, lacking the courage to live by a faith that shares Christ’s suffering and death. All their talk about the law is gas. They themselves don’t keep the law! And they are highly selective in the laws they do observe. They only want you to be circumcised so they can boast of their success in recruiting you to their side. That is contemptible!
For my part, I am going to boast about nothing but the Cross of our Master, Jesus Christ. Because of that Cross, I have been crucified in relation to the world, set free from the stifling atmosphere of pleasing others and fitting into the little patterns that they dictate. Can’t you see the central issue in all this? It is not what you and I do—submit to circumcision, reject circumcision. It is what God is doing, and he is creating something totally new, a free life! All who walk by this standard are the true Israel of God—his chosen people. Peace and mercy on them!
Quite frankly, I don’t want to be bothered anymore by these disputes. I have far more important things to do—the serious living of this faith. I bear in my body scars from my service to Jesus.
May what our Master Jesus Christ gives freely be deeply and personally yours, my friends. Oh, yes!
The Letter of Galatians, Chapter 6 (The Message)
Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 17th chapter of First Kings that introduces Elijah:
And then this happened: Elijah the Tishbite, from among the settlers of Gilead, confronted Ahab: “As surely as God lives, the God of Israel before whom I stand in obedient service, the next years are going to see a total drought—not a drop of dew or rain unless I say otherwise.”
God then told Elijah, “Get out of here, and fast. Head east and hide out at the Kerith Ravine on the other side of the Jordan River. You can drink fresh water from the brook; I’ve ordered the ravens to feed you.”
Elijah obeyed God’s orders. He went and camped in the Kerith canyon on the other side of the Jordan. And sure enough, ravens brought him his meals, both breakfast and supper, and he drank from the brook.
Eventually the brook dried up because of the drought. Then God spoke to him: “Get up and go to Zarephath in Sidon and live there. I’ve instructed a woman who lives there, a widow, to feed you.”
So he got up and went to Zarephath. As he came to the entrance of the village he met a woman, a widow, gathering firewood. He asked her, “Please, would you bring me a little water in a jug? I need a drink.” As she went to get it, he called out, “And while you’re at it, would you bring me something to eat?”
She said, “I swear, as surely as your God lives, I don’t have so much as a biscuit. I have a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a bottle; you found me scratching together just enough firewood to make a last meal for my son and me. After we eat it, we’ll die.”
Elijah said to her, “Don’t worry about a thing. Go ahead and do what you’ve said. But first make a small biscuit for me and bring it back here. Then go ahead and make a meal from what’s left for you and your son. This is the word of the God of Israel: ‘The jar of flour will not run out and the bottle of oil will not become empty before God sends rain on the land and ends this drought.’”
And she went right off and did it, did just as Elijah asked. And it turned out as he said—daily food for her and her family. The jar of meal didn’t run out and the bottle of oil didn’t become empty: God’s promise fulfilled to the letter, exactly as Elijah had delivered it!
Later on the woman’s son became sick. The sickness took a turn for the worse—and then he stopped breathing.
The woman said to Elijah, “Why did you ever show up here in the first place—a holy man barging in, exposing my sins, and killing my son?”
Elijah said, “Hand me your son.”
He then took him from her bosom, carried him up to the loft where he was staying, and laid him on his bed. Then he prayed, “O God, my God, why have you brought this terrible thing on this widow who has opened her home to me? Why have you killed her son?”
Three times he stretched himself out full-length on the boy, praying with all his might, “God, my God, put breath back into this boy’s body!” God listened to Elijah’s prayer and put breath back into his body—he was alive! Elijah picked the boy up, carried him downstairs from the loft, and gave him to his mother. “Here’s your son,” said Elijah, “alive!”
The woman said to Elijah, “I see it all now—you are a holy man. When you speak, God speaks—a true word!”
The Book of 1st Kings, Chapter 17 (The Message)
my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, november 30 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs
A post by John Parsons that reflects upon our time while in this world and our longing for Love:
You may sometimes feel lonely and afraid, wondering if anyone really cares for you; you may feel abandoned to wander about in your heartache, without a sense of acceptance or "place" for your life; you may feel estranged from others, in a place of desperation, a silent scream, without apparent comfort in the world... These are real feelings and I do not discount them, though often such feelings arise from unbelief, or at least from questioning whether God's love is for you, after all.
Friend, there is an intimate comfort for your mourning; there is heavenly consolation for the grief and emptiness you feel inside. Look again to the cross and attend to God's passion for you; believe in the miracle of Yeshua's love for you; by faith see his blood shed for you... He knows your alienation: he was "despised and rejected of men"; he knows the pains of your heart: he was a "man of sorrows acquainted with grief"; he knows the heartache of being forsaken, abandoned, and utterly betrayed. Indeed Yeshua knows your infirmities; he understands how you hurt and calls you to his comfort... Therefore when feelings of loneliness well up within you, go inward to commune with the Spirit. Ask God for his consolation so that you too might console others who are suffering (2 Cor. 1:3-4). Do not lose hope but foresee your blessed future. Focus on the coming day of healing for all the world. Remind yourself again and again that you are never really alone, that nothing can separate you from God's love, and that God's Name is "I-am-with-you-always," "I am your Abba, your Imma, your true home and place of belonging, all your dreams of love will come true, and unimaginable beauty and endless delight await you in the glories of the world to come.”
“Whoever has God truly has a companion in all places, both on the street and among people.. Why is this so? It is because such people posses God alone, keeping their gaze fixed upon him, and thus all things reveal God for them.... Such people bear God in all their deeds and in the places they go, and it is God alone who is the author of all they do.” - Eckhart (Talks of Instruction)
You will never feel safe as long as you regard the acceptance of who you are as conditional, since you will only be as secure as your own best efforts, a project that will exhaust you in the end. Instead you must know yourself as truly loved by God, just as the “prodigal son” came to know his father’s unconditional love and acceptance despite his many misdeeds (Luke 15:11-32). The incarnation of Jesus means that God “runs to meet and embrace you,” regardless of whatever happened in your life that made you run away from home. And whatever else it may be, sin is the separation from God’s love, but Yeshua made the decision to die for your sins before you were born. Your sin cannot overrule God’s surpassing and personal love for your soul, since God gave up his very life for you to find life.
The Hebrew word for “life” is chayim (חַיִּים), a plural noun that contains two consecutive letter yods (יי) that picture two “hands held together” (the Hebrew word yad [יָד] means “hand”), or the union of our spirit with God’s Spirit. The word itself reveals that there is no life apart from union with God, who extends his hand to you and says, “Live in me” (John 15:4). We live in him by faith, receiving our daily bread as his flesh and our drink as his blood (John 6:53). Yeshua is the Source of all life, and we find nourishment, strength, and fullness of joy in his life. The Lord is our light and our salvation, the Mediator of divine life (Psalm 27:1; John 1:4). As it is written, “Whoever has the Son has the life; but whoever does not have the Son of God does not have the life” (1 John 5:12).
The Lord is also called “the God of breath” (Gen. 2:7; Num. 16:22). The Hebrew word for breath is ruach (רוּחַ), a word that means both “spirit” and “wind.” God is as close as your breath and surrounds you like the unseen yet encompassing air. Since God’s name YHVH (יהוה) means “Presence” (Exod. 3:13-14), “Life” (Deut. 30:20), and “Love” (Exod. 34:6-7), he is the Beloved, the “I-am-with-you-always” lover of your soul. So fear not; you are never really alone. Yeshua breathes out to you and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit” (John 20:22). [Hebrew for Christians]
https://hebrew4christians.com/
11.30.20 • Facebook
Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research
November 30, 2020
Come Forth as Gold
“That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.” (1 Peter 1:7)
These words of Peter are certainly applicable today, but they have always been true. That proper character and testimony are of supreme importance to God was certainly recognized by godly Job in the midst of his heavy trials, for he claimed: “But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold” (Job 23:10). The context for this stirring statement of faith proves instructive.
Just as most people do, whether Christian or not, Job appealed to heaven for relief from his troubles (v. 3). Job felt he was suffering unjustly and wanted to state his case before God (v. 4), but more importantly, Job desired to know God’s will in the matter. “I would [i.e., desire to] know the words which he would answer me, and understand what he would say unto me” (v. 5). He knew God well enough to know that God had a purpose in his suffering, and Job asked for knowledge of that purpose. Job knew God’s goodness, that He would not punish him for his questions, and felt that greater understanding would give him strength to continue. But without God’s revelation, Job knew he was unable to understand or even find God (vv. 8-9). God mercifully and lovingly allows trials to discipline, guide, and develop us. Such trials will, in the end, work to our advantage as impurities are removed, leaving behind only that which is lasting and precious.
The goal of our lives should be to bring “praise and honour and glory” unto our Lord, and if tribulation can best accomplish these goals, so be it! As David said, “Before I was afflicted I went astray: but now have I kept thy word” (Psalm 119:67). God knows what is best for us. He knows what He is doing, and we can rest in that fact. JDM
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