Thought Bubbles
Thought Bubbles by debgrant
I couldn’t settle on one thought today. Maybe it’s a Monday disorder.
Finished reading One Hundred Saturdays: Stella Levi and the Search for a Lost World By Michael Frank. Levi is one of the last living Auschwitz survivors who were old enough to remember a great deal. I have read dozens of Holocaust memoirs and literature. I continue to be a receptacle for their story.
Ross Gay (author of Inciting Joy) offered up a different take on grief. He described it as our bodies(flesh, psyche, spirit) metabolizing change. I have been thinking about that a lot. I have some friends dealing with some deep griefs. I have had a career standing inside intimate moments of great loss of people, I am becoming more aware of little deaths, beginnings, and endings happening all the time. Gay’s definition neither denies the horrific pain of grief nor accepts that we are not without a body that is trying to keep us alive.
Barefoot Crossing - my daily internet offering of conversation with scripture - continues to renew an intimacy with God that I need. I genuinely appreciate those of you who have shown interest in the print version as well.
Art-o-Mat is a company that refurbishes old cigarette machines to distribute small original artwork. The machines are located in art gallery gift shops, bars, art emporiums, hotel lobbies, restaurants, pubs. Their goal - to make art accessible -fits my goal very well. It gives me joy. The joy helps to protect me from the jokes about the old cigarette machines. That thin skin of mine can be a nuisance.
I am shifting in the ways I consume the news. More discerning, I think. More skeptical of single sources, though I confess that growing up with only 3 TV channels with 3 news programs that offered mostly the same stories and new opinions made my life more simple. Maybe our appetite for simplicity is what got us in trouble to begin with.
Someone I read this week said that we talk to ourselves because we are seeking the wisest person we know. Another person said when we talk to ourselves at least we know the other person is listening. When I talk to Reggie, he often stares at me. Sometimes he says, “Oops.” Reggie is the wisest one I know.
Peace,
Deb