Random thoughts on a cold night

 

I have no idea what this image has to do with this blog, 
but it somehow landed here and I cannot get rid of it.
At least it satisfies the algorithms.

This is the kind of night when I really notice the one flaw in my cottage: there is no fireplace and no room for one. Jamie bought me a tiny artificial fireplace—the flames look very real, and it gives off just a smidge of heat, but I like it for the atmosphere, the thought of a fire. We have not yet gotten it down from wherever it was packed away over the summer. The cottage tonight, however, is toasty warm. I have the thermostat on the two ductless split systems—one in the living area and one in the bedroom—set at a level I never would in a regular furnace, but I don’t think these units heat as well. At any rate, I am comfortable—and I spent yesterday being cold all day.

I had the classic school dream last night—I was enrolled in two college classes but didn’t really want to take them. Finally I realized that I had already completed the degree requirements, and I dropped the classes. Such a relief! Occasionally I dream I am enrolled in a class and it’s time for the final, but I’ve never attended—or I couldn’t find the classroom. I think the class is often paleontology, something way out of my field of interest.

School dreams like that are not unusual and often mean that you are dealing with unpleasant memories or are anxious about something. I really don’t feel that there’s much in my life to be anxious about. But in the wider world, there is so much to be anxious about. I find that since the horrific Hamas attack on Israeli settlements, I am less optimistic. These days I am truly worried about an international war, with our troops suffering air raid strikes and half the Middle East ready to join the fight—though who on which side remains sort of unclear, except I don’t think Israel would have many allies. And at home, antisemitism is on the rise at an alarming rate. It’s like that night over three weeks ago Hamas let loose all the evil and hate in the world. It scares me that people are so fierce, and the individual stories break my heart.

Where is Solomon with his wisdom? Not only did he use his sword to settle a matter of motherhood, he successfully ruled over two tribes and is recognized today, in different ways, by both Jews and Muslims. I see no path forward to peace, and I grieve at the bitter fate of civilians on either side of the conflict. I read somewhere that over half the Palestinians killed in the conflict were children. Both sides are fixed on vengeance, but as Ghandi said, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” I am afraid that is what is happening to us.

It's hard these days to go back to the ordinary, to root yourself in such things as Halloween and getting plants in before tonight’s frost and what to fix for supper tomorrow night. But it is those ordinary things I think that often hold us together. And today I read an article about that most ordinary of things: the common southern phrase, “Bless your heart.” We all know it can be a biting insult, but an article in Southern Living suggests it is much more nuanced. The meaning depends heavily on the speaker’s tone of voice.

Whispered in a conspiratorial voice, usually about someone not present, it casts doubt on the subject’s abilities, mostly mental or social. Stated in a clear, caring tone of voice, it conveys real concern or sympathy. Said with sass, it implies judgement and an incredulous, “What were you thinking?” If the speaker’s voice holds pity, and you’re the recipient, accept that it is not a compliment and move on. If it’s said matter-of-factly, it may mean that the speaker doesn’t want to reveal their real feelings and wants to end the conversation.

Feeling much better today—thanks for asking. Cold symptoms cough and stuffy nose persist, but I have more energy and more interest in what I’m working on. Wrote a thousand words today, most of them good words.

Bless your heart, one and all.