A Beautiful Mind

I had the most amazing dream last night.  Well, it was amazing to ME.

I dreamed that I was in a place of business on Tyee Road in Point Roberts, Washington.  It was a small building in which I had never been before and which probably doesn’t exist outside the dream.  In retrospect, it might have been a small art gallery.

On the wall above a table were large posters like horizontal navigation maps.  They had symbols on them that seemed to make no sense.

I announced to the people around me, “Hey, I can see the patterns in those posters just like the guy in the movie A Beautiful Mind!”

Some people tried to see what I was seeing.  Others just kinda looked at me sideways like “Uh…okaaay…whatever.”

If I looked at the poster as a whole, I couldn’t see the pattern.  When I looked with my eyes narrowed and my head tilted back a bit, the shapes in the patterns showed themselves in 3D whereas the rest of the images remained 2D.

There might be some meaning in this, or it might just be random disconnected thoughts.

If there is a meaning, I’m going to venture a guess that it is to say if you haven’t been there, you really have no idea how or why the person who experienced what they lived has impacted them.

Furthermore, looking at what you see in total cannot be understood until you see each fine detail, and see them in their proper order.

(I originally published this in facebook Notes on February 11, 2011.)

The Struggle Is Where We Find The Beauty

Quote

“If there was a place to get to where everyone was happy and whole, we’d stop making art.

There would be no music.

There would be nothing left to write about.

It would be a flat, expressionless existence instead of the one precious life we have.

The struggle is where we find the beauty.”

~Kate Bartolotta

Racism/Bullies

So many are half-breeds or quarter-breeds or other more dilute breeds. My dad is Serbian and my mom is as Canadian as they get, but what is Canadian? So much mixture in that, too.

Having grown up as a blonde haired, blue eyed girl with a Serbian surname that ignorami (my plural of ignoramus) loved to mispronounce, I was the target of bullying.

Really, though, there is nothing wrong with that mix, or with any other mix, in my opinion.

The bullies of the world will always find their lame reasons for bullying.

Dogs will be dogs.

(My comment on the blog of HarsH ReaLiTy)

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My dad (little boy holding a book way up high in the back) with his family.
Serbia, circa 1940.

Platitutdes don’t help much, if at all

I read Addie Zierman’s blog entry Spiritual Journey: The Mad Season.

Under her blog entry, I read a comment by a reader named Eric, which basically described how he hand-held a friend when that friend needed hand-holding.

To that, I said this:

“This gives another dimension to “taking the Lord’s name in vain”.

My goodness, “let go and let God” just doesn’t help when I’m in the depths of despair.

From my experience, love in action with elbow grease, driven by God’s love, gets better mileage than the best of intentions in even the most carefully worded platitudes.”

Tears of love from my 8-year-old son

My dear, precious, eight-year-old son has such a sensitive heart.  Tonight, as I was tucking him into bed, he had tears in his eyes as he said he was worried about the end of the world.

I told him that the Bible says nobody knows the day nor the hour when Jesus is coming back, but that He will be coming back.

I comforted him by reminding him that if Jesus came back even right now, we’d all suddenly be together in heaven – Daddy wouldn’t be at work but he’d be right there in heaven with us, and all his siblings would be there too… except, I’m not sure about my oldest daughter, and we pray for her in that regard.

I told him that all the people who help out at the kids program he goes to in the summertime at the local church would be there, and I named some of them that I know.

He seemed relieved, but then he squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, “What about Gramma?”

I said, “Yes, Gramma will be there. Gramma loves the Lord.”

He asked, “What about Grampa?”

I said, “I don’t know. I’ve not talked to him in a long time. He has his personal problems and doesn’t want to talk to me, but last I knew, he didn’t love the Lord.”

And then my little boy’s tears fell so painfully down his cheeks as he thought about my dad not being in heaven.

I said, “We can pray for him right now.”

I held his hand and we prayed for my dad’s salvation.

When we were done praying, he tried to be strong and said, “OK, I need to stop thinking about this. Let’s talk about something else.”

My dear, tender-hearted little boy has so much love in him and a double-dose of HSP (highly sensitive person), with both parents being that way.

I pray that he will always trust the Lord as innocently as he does now.