Quaker Pagan Reflections

This morning, Peter suggested we call a landscaping company to see about raking up our leaves. Now, our yard is pretty small, but the leaves haven't shown any signs of raking themselves up, any more than the yard has tidied itself of fallen branches in the last few weeks, or the fence gate repaired itself. His suggestion is a practical one, and, if we're not rolling in dough, still, we probably could swing it. But it feels wrong, so very wrong. What about simplicity? What about being close to the earth? Shouldn't I at least want to get out there in the bright light of morning, put in my couple of hours of yardwork, and bask in the glow of homeowner satisfaction? I said as much to Peter. " Good Quakers don't hire someone else to rake their lawns!" I said to him. "Good Pagans don't hire someone else to take care of their yards!" "Good Quakers are retired," he observed. "and good Pagans are students." Damn. He has a point

Hi, I hope you will excuse my being off-topic on this one. Yesterday, my mom was badly hurt when she was struck by a car as she was walking down the road. Happily, the driver stayed with her and called for help; she was thrown by the impact some distance into the woods, and might not have been found if he/she had been less conscientious. So already, there is something to be grateful for. Medical stuff: I'll update or correct this as I have web access and better information later--but the bottom line at the moment seems to be: she hurts, she's going to have a long recovery, but she's going to be OK. My mom has a number of broken bones; the worst is her leg and ankle, but she also has several broken ribs, a broken arm, and some cracked vertebrae that, thankfully, are not expected to result in long-term damage. No head trauma. She's lucid and clear, though on a morphine drip for pain and in the ICU, and she's going in for surgery on the leg this morning--they want to

This post is at least partly Cosette's fault. She named me in a perfectly good meme over at Pandora's Bazaar --the Six Random Things meme. But I'm feeling a bit twisted today, so I'm going to twist it. You ready? The new, twisted rules are these: Link to the person or persons who tagged you. Post the rules on your blog. Name 6 obscure books that you honestly love--but think almost no one else could. (You must really love the books; you must think most people would hate them. No cheating with books you think other people will love, too!) Tag 6 people at the end of your post and link to them. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog. Let the tagger know when your entry is up. So, here are my Six Bad Books I love. (Really. I think they're awesome. But don't take that as a recommendation...) Clarissa , by Samuel Richardson. This epistolary novel from the 18th Century is the longest novel in the English language. (And y

I know it's not over. I know that the hard job of governing the country has not yet begun, let alone the harder job of uniting a country divided by a long and polarizing campaign. But I know, too, that I am not the only person out there who has been hearing, in Barack Obama's victory speech, echoes of an earlier speech : We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land! And so I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man! Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming

I don't think I have been as moved by the act of casting a ballot since I turned eighteen. I began to realize just how different this election felt to me as I left school. In spite of my eagerness to learn about voter turnout and to begin the election night past-time of trying to scry the vote, I turned the news off as soon as it came on and rode home in silence. It just felt wrong to clutter my mind with commentary on the way to do something that, I suddenly grasped, had an importance to me that was more than usual. I did miss voting one year. I had injured my back--pretty seriously, as it happens--and I was in a lot of pain. Other than that, I've kept my dates with history, but I do forgive myself for standing the country up at the polls that one time. Life happens. But, I realized, I was not going to be OK with it if anything kept me away from the polls this year. Not if I broke down by the side of the road. Not if I were in the hospital. Not if some weird little glitc