New blog: http://themuddyhymnal.blogspot.com/
Monday, March 8, 2010
Friday, November 27, 2009
I really want a garden.
Here are a few things that have been inspiring me.
Perhaps this winter, I'll grow a little indoor garden. Lovely idea yes?
1. Beautiful seeds mailed right to your door.
2. Thank you notes and gift-tags that sprout into seeds when planted.
3. Garden inspiration.
Posted by deercallie at 7:09 PM
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
If people are truly, madly, deeply in love with each other, they will find a way.
"If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?"
"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for."
"They may forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel."
-Carl W. Buechner
"God places the heaviest burden on those who can carry its weight."
Posted by deercallie at 11:49 PM
Rat tat tat.
Rat tat tat.
It's been too long.
Really. What are my excuses?
The air is cold out. So cold to my delicate lungs. Holding a delicate air and a delicate place.
Shattered china. Shattered muses.
Fevered dreams and fevered mutterings. A peak out the cold window. The sun has been setting for hours now.
Gentle, weak sun glimpses through the trees as I fall into dreams again and again. Oceans and curved buildings.
Stone observatories in the ocean. Winding stairs so frigid and uninviting.
I need hot tea and books. Wool socks and a someone to read to me.
This is all that I need, in this moment of time.
Is recognizing your needs bad?
My throat stings, burning and writhing.
Chills and fevers.
Enveloping and folding. Over and over.
Cold and hot.
So lonely. So lonely.
I dream of cracked dishes and pale walls. Such beauty.
Little houseplants and a furry cat roaming the cupboards. A little home. Of my own. So quiet. So alive. So dear.
In green lush beauty. All my own. Rain pounding on warped windows. Hush hush of the roaring fire.
Life is so simple.
Paints upon paints.
Like a canvas heavy with paint.
I am bending.
I need understanding.
Too much. To ask.
I am fevered dreaming.
I am cold chills.
Waiting for your call.
I miss you.
Your eloquent words. My eloquent words.
Of wooden floors and white beds.
I'll be waiting. I'll be waiting.
Posted by deercallie at 5:22 PM
Thursday, September 24, 2009
A moon and a quarter.
That's how long.
Amazing isn't it? Never possible love.
But here I am.
A moon and a quarter.
It was a full moon when I realized.
Now he watches, over us. We are his. He is getting big again. He is at a quarter.
How many moons will it be?
I adore you.
Posted by deercallie at 7:15 PM
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
This is something that I read from my book for my Anthropology class and I thought it was absolutely incredible. Culture and ways of life just fascinate me. This is from the book "Culture Counts"
"Nacirema culture is characterized by a highly developed market economy, but Naciremans spend a considerable portion of the day in ritual activity. The focus of this activity is the human body, the appearance and health of which loom as dominant concern in the ethos of the people.
The fundamental belief underlying the whole system appears to be that the human body is ugly and has a natural tendency to debility and disease. People's only hope is to avert these through the use of ritual and ceremony, and every household has one or more shrines devoted to this purpose. The rituals associated with the shrine are secret and are discussed with children only when they are being initiated into these mysteries.
The Nacirema have an almost pathological horror of and fascination with the mouth, the condition of which is believed to have a supernatural influence on all social relationships. Each day, Naciremans perform a complex set of rituals devoted to the mouth. Were it not for these rituals, they believe that their teeth would fall out, their gums bleed, their jaws shrink, their friends desert them, and their lovers reject them.
In addition to daily mouth-rites, the people seek out a holy-mouth-man once or twice a year. These practitioners have an impressive set of paraphernalia, consisting of a variety of augers, awls, probes, and prods. The use of these objects in the exorcism of the evils of the mouth involves almost unbelievable ritual torture of the client. The holy-mouth-man uses these tools to scrape, prod, and cut particularly sensitive areas of the mouth.
Magical materials believed to arrest decay and draw friends are inserted in teh mouth. The extremely sacred and traditional character of the rite is evident in the fact that the natives return to the holy-mouth-men year after year, despite the fact that their teeth continue to decay. One has but to watch the gleam in the eye of a holy-mouth-man, as he jabs an awl into an exposed nerve, to suspect that a certain amount of sadism is involved in these practices. And indeed much of the population shows definite masochistic tendencies. For example, a portion of the daily body ritual performed only by men involves scraping and lacerating the surface of the face with a sharp insturment. "
Posted by deercallie at 10:02 PM