Disagreeing with Virginia Woolf
During this winter vacation I read Virginia Woolf’s “A Room of One’s Own,” a book that has been on my reading list since forever. Big round of applause for this minuscule achievement! Right. Thanks. Moving on.
During this winter vacation I read Virginia Woolf’s “A Room of One’s Own,” a book that has been on my reading list since forever. Big round of applause for this minuscule achievement! Right. Thanks. Moving on.
Another new year. Don’t these things seem to turn up at an alarmingly fast rate lately? Only yesterday I was writing this previous new year post.
It’s probably a weekly if not daily discussion in my family: we need a bigger house, but no, what we have is perfect for us and we can adapt it to our changing needs, but still, one more room would solve all our problems, and yet why move when this is still working well for us most of the time and a small house (about 1150 sq ft, if you’re very curious) is what fits our values, though look at this house that’s for sale. It goes on and on, and it’s mostly just talk. We are happy where we are and moving is not something we’ll ever undertake too happily.
This hasn't been an easy week at my house. Sickness and sleepless kids. Not fun at all. But it is Friday and we do seem to see the light at the end of it all.
As we advance into the darkest days of the year, I start to feel the grip of anxiety and fear. It's often my children who make me feel real, heart-stopping fear. I am afraid for them. Before children, I was almost fearless. It was youth, maybe. Youth is crazy and doesn't think much, and you can blame a lot of unrealistic behaviors on it. Now, as a mother, I can barely watch five minutes of a horror movie and I get nightmares.
I had a nightmare recently. It was an epic one. It will go on the list of the ones never to be forgotten. My nightmares have always been very vivid and cinematic. First Aid Kit, My Silver Lining
Art, adornment and ritual are what distinguished modern humans from their predecessors. Somehow our species developed a taste for seemingly useless, wasteful habits. Why would they waste time painting caves, give away resources by burying the dead with their earthly possessions, and paint their skins or wear amulets and beads that were hard to come by and costly to produce? Somehow our race arrived to the conclusion, very early, that there is more than the eye can see, that the world is a place of magic and wonder and we are not only flesh and bone.
INDILA, Derniere Danse