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One of the first great philosophical books, Plato’s Republic, concludes with the recounting of a near-death experience. Socrates relates the myth of Er, a soldier who died in battle but came back to tell what he saw in the other world. Like other myths in Plato’s works, this is meant to supplement Socrates’ philosophical arguments and to help instill noble beliefs. It’s a last ditch effort at making the case for living a just life.
This post is dedicated to Sandee of Comedy Plus, her "hubby," whose heartful post inspired me, and to their little dog "Little Bit," who they lost recently. Please stop by Comedy Plus, if you haven't already, and read Sandee's husbands post.
The Other Side Of Heaven
We often think of going to heaven, but we seldom consider the fact that heaven comes to us. I think it’s because we’re not paying attention to the gifts we see around us every day.
For example, people say “money doesn’t grow on trees,” when, in fact, we have oranges, apples, and the other kind of foods that grow from a seed, produce a tree, and bear fruits that literally fall from the tree, not the grocery store.
Obviously, I do know what people mean when they use that expression, it’s because man discovered long ago to charge for their hard work at harvesting their crops, plants, etc… But, you get my point, money does grow on trees, and, in fact, it’s a gift from heaven and a gift that will keep on giving.
And I believe your animals or the people we love will show themselves in a different form to let us know they’re just on the other side of heaven and will see us soon.
People also say that nothing is free, it’s another expression that simply isn’t true, for example, love is free. I believe we were born to live, love, and teach each other many things, the most of which is love, but the noise we experience in our daily routines gets in the way.
However, animals do not hear the noise, so they allow their spirits to love freely, unbounded by the restrictions us humans require of one another.
I believe domesticated animals are heaven sent perhaps to teach us how to live a life of joy, love, compassion, understanding, and loyalty to the ones with love, without judgment.
So, go hug your animal today, and if you do not have a pet, hug a person you love.
And for those of you, who, like my friend Sandee and her husband have just lost a dear friend, hug someone you know you may also be grieving a pet, and help them remember the things their pets came here to teach them.
Because, as I mentioned they are sent to remind us how to live a life of joy, love, compassion, and understanding, the most of which is love.
Show them that they taught you well, and you will gain strength from the treasures they gave you and remember you will see them again. -'Cause we are just on one side of heaven.-
Whether they be songs about angels or demons, Heaven or Hell, the theme of the afterlife has inspired countless musicians of varying genres and has embedded itself into the lyrics of many popular hits. Though their styles may be different, artists show that our collective questions and musings about the afterlife provide us with a common thread across humanity. Here are some of the songs that best represent this wide range of emotions that many people have about what lies beyond.
Most of us lucky ones live many lives on our sojourn on earth. We assay many roles, we experience varying circumstances. We Live. And we make amazing memories while we do that.
My dad was a very senior doctor in the Indian Railways, and we traveled a lot - always in British Raj style. Of all the memories I have of that life, the holidays are the sharpest, and the most beautiful. A snapshot of explaining murals on a lovely temple in Orissa to him, eyes scrunched against the sun, is probably clearer today in my mind than it was then.
Travel is a wonderful way to expand the mind. It teaches you about the place you visit, opens your mind to other cultures and people, tells you you can move, change and adapt. It is an entirely positive experience in most cases. Everyone likes to travel, some in any way, to anywhere, some with more specifications. For me, I would travel less, but travel well... really well. Four stars minimum. The fact that I cannot bring myself to shell out for more than economy-class plane tickets is bad enough. But elitist compulsions aside, I believe travelling is a must for personal growth. A person who grows and dies in the place he is born in misses out on a lot. A lot of pain, maybe, but a lot of fun too.
But I digress. I was talking of the memories that travel engenders. A holiday is a separate space in our lives. It is a time when we take out time for the 'unnecessary', when the routine, generic parts of living are given secondary place to the special, personal part. Precious taking precedence over the pressing. That itself makes it sacrosanct.
When we create memories with people we love in a different place, we make a personal landmark in time-space. A special time is created, a bubble in itself, indestructible.
A trip to Orlando for the opening of Harry Potter Park is an indelible memory, easily revisited. The smiles, the frowns, the heat, the conversation. The silly guitar photo. Nothing that happens or will happen can change that. A big party at home becomes one of many, but the trip will remain unchanged through Time. The first time I swam with Manta rays is as fresh today as it was then. I can feel the cold salt water, the rough scaly fin as it brushed me, the slowing of time, the meaninglessness of the world outside the water. Another bubble I can retreat to anytime.
That bubble is a reminder of who we are, of what we do, of what matters. It confirms that life has to be more than our earthly existence. We get little pieces of heaven in our experiences as we travel, and those are what we tuck away in our hearts and minds. Because every time we experience something new, see something beautiful, taste something fabulous, we know it cannot be meaningless. We know there is more. And we know that a lifetime is simply not enough - certainly not in this miserably limited existence.
So when we are all standing in front of our Creator on the Day of Judgement, and he opens the gates to Heaven, (after all, does anyone think they might actually go to hell??) I am going to ask instead for the 6-star resorts on the beaches and mountains of all the worlds to travel around with the people I love. And yes, with the full dessert buffet. And if he has to do a bit of recreating... well, that will be one hell of a memory!
0 Comments on Bits of Heaven as of 3/30/2015 3:59:00 PM
Paradise, a 1982 knock-off of the movie Blue Lagoon, stars Phoebe Cates and Willie Aames as teenagers who find themselves alone in a place of natural beauty and experiencing the ultimate joy together. Ann Wilson of Heart and Mike Reno of Loverboy can see forever in each other’s eyes in “Almost Paradise,” their Top Ten hit from the Footloose soundtrack (“Almost paradise / We’re knocking on Heaven’s door”). Ridley Scott’s Gladiator (2000) references the Elysian Fields, a paradise beyond this one where the blessed go when they die. And the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue has more than once run a story – or titled an entire issue — “Paradise Found.” Literature and popular culture are awash with references to or appropriations of Heaven.
The Baylor Survey of Religion determined in 2011 that the vast majority of Americans (two thirds of us, and over ninety per cent of Americans who identify as “very religious”) believe that Heaven exists. Something about the idea of a heavenly realm — call it Zion, call it Paradise, call it Elysium, call it Shangri-La, call it Nirvana — meets a deep-seated need of human beings to hope for something more after this life. Whether because it fits our sense of justice that the good should be rewarded, or because it appeals to our ingrained hope that this sometimes difficult existence isn’t all that we will ever experience, the idea of Heaven has helped to dry the tears of the suffering and offered the possibility of some greater meaning in many earthly lives.
But Heaven is as much a concept as an actual place, even for those who believe in the actual place. The human imagination has served a vital role in helping us to imagine what Heaven might be. Dante and Milton, for example, crucially shaped our conceptions of a paradisiacal realm beyond human speech and reckoning. In Canto XXX of the Paradiso, Dante offers us a vision of light and joy, describing the saints in Heaven arranged as a rose with the Virgin Mary at its center even as he speaks at length about his inability to speak of what he has seen.
Heaven, photo by Martin Andersson CC-by-2.0 via Flickr
John Milton shows us God enthroned, and in glorious language supplies the dignity and beauty most human descriptions of Heaven would necessarily leave lacking:
Now had the Almighty Father from above,
From the pure Empyrean where he sits
High Thron’d above all highth, bent down his eye,
His own works and their works at once to view:
About him all the Sanctities of Heaven
Stood thick as Stars, and from his sight receiv’d
Beatitude past utterance; on his right
The radiant image of his Glory sat,
His onely Son; (Paradise Lost, Book IV, 56-64)
We require this sort of imaginative view of Heaven partly because the Bible (whether in the Hebrew or Christian testaments) contains very little teaching about Heaven as a place for the faithful departed. N. T. Wright notes in the book Surprised by Hope that most Christians assume that when the Bible speaks of something called heaven it is talking about the place where Christians go after death. Because they start with that belief, they misread Jesus’ teachings about the Kingdom of God or, in the Gospel of Matthew, the Kingdom of Heaven. Assuming that Jesus “is indeed talking about how to go to heaven when you die” may make us feel secure about the afterlife, but, says Wright, it “is certainly not what Jesus or Matthew had in mind.” (18) So, barring those mentions of Heaven in Jesus’ cryptic kingdom teachings, we are left with some references to a heavenly realm in apocalyptic writings like Daniel and Revelation, and some few sayings of Jesus. (The Paradise of Islam is mentioned considerably more often in the Qur’an and in the hadiths and other teachings).
“How we live now may be shaped by what we believe is happening to us in a next life”
Many Christians formed their understanding of Heaven from one of Jesus’ teachings in the Gospel of John: “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.” (John 14:2-3, NRSV) This teaching has entered into our thinking from the King James Version, where “dwelling place” is translated as “mansions,” and prompted many to think of Heaven as a place where believers will have their own mansions (although the Greek monai« has no such denotative or connotative meaning; it simply means “a place where one may remain or live”).
But don’t tell those believers who have taken those expected mansions, shaken them with the Book of Revelation’s streets of gold, and served themselves a heavenly gated community where every occupant has a holy-water Jacuzzi with diamond handles. For many who have suffered in this life, it seems only just and right that they spend eternity in luxury. What is Paradise if it isn’t better than the world we know?
And if, like them, your image of Heaven is of a place where you will walk streets of gold and pluck a harp while holding forth with the saints, then you are certainly not in the minority. Jon Meacham notes in a recent TIME magazine cover story that this version of Heaven appears across Christian history, and is tied up in “culture, politics, economics, class, and psychology.” How we live now may be shaped by what we believe is happening to us in a next life, and can affect everything from how we vote to how we give. But more importantly, our stories about Heaven offer us consolation; they assure us that a just God will surely reward the faithful and punish the faithless, no matter what happens to us in this life. For that reason, those stories are vital to our peace of mind.
In one of my recurring nightmares, I'm ascending the golden staircase that leads up to the pearly gates, and there stands St Peter in his robes and spectacles, frowning.
I clutch my bundle of documents, all 12 point Times New Roman double-spaced (or should that be single-spaced, where the synopsis is concerned? Or 1.5? I've consulted a bunch of archbishops on the matter - no one seems to know. Not that it matters to them, they're already in the system...)
I've counted my words, headed my headers and footed my footers. My printer's been well fed with the choicest cartridges and the smoothest, whitest paper money can buy. I've define my genre and 'placed' myself with respect to other authors, though I haven't mentioned Charles Dickens, George Eliot or JKR. My pages are pristine, my sentences grammatical, my metaphors well-chosen, poignant and surprising (though no longer so surprising, after nine revisions, to me).
I hand over my submission with trepidation.
St Peter casts an eye over Chapters 1-3 of my life. Shakes his head, tuttting solemnly. 'Typo on page 2,' he intones. 'I'm afraid this is completely unacceptable. We can't consider anyone who has a typo on page 2 of their life story. And this is even worse - an exclamation mark on page 4!'
Chapters 1-3 are dropped (passive alert!) carelessly to the ground, which I notice is soggy and slush-like, consisting as it does of a thick layer of decaying manuscripts. St Peter glances at my letter and gives another frown.
'I didn't mention that my children love my work,' I venture (no, sorry, I say. One must never use a different word for 'say'). 'Nor did I tell you anything about my garden, my goldfish or my penchant for golden syrup sandwiches.'
'Adverbs...' intones St P. 'Three of them. To say nothing of four adjectives in the first two paragraphs of your synopsis.'
I bristle. 'There may be the occasional adverb, but only where strictly needed to make my meaning clear.'
'Strictly?' bellows St Peter. 'That's an adverb if I ever heard one. Save it for those dancing programmes on TV. I've sent devoted believers to hell for less.'
'But surely...' I adopt a pleading tone. No, make that a wheedling tone. 'St Peter, please. I've spent a lifetime honing and polishing my life story. Is there nothing I can do to get you to read it - so you can actually judge my life on its merit
16 Comments on Pearly Gatekeepers by Rosalie Warren, last added: 2/2/2012
Very funny, Rosalie - I didn't read as being about submissions to agents though, but as a general swipe at all those stern rules about writing that get brandished by how-to books and creative writing teachers (including, from time to time, many of us!)
And thanks, Sue. You're right, it wasn't intended to be a swipe at agents in themselves - just the silly attitudes we are sometimes encouraged to have towards them :-)
"the screeds of advice on how to appease them that sometimes get my goat." That goat will come in handy for the ritual sacrifice ;) Please don't post the photos of the entrails-divination *giggling *obviously,borderingonhysterical
Great post! Just as well we can all still find ways to smile through the ups and downs, the do's and don'ts and most of all the mass of conflicting advice on how to reach the holy grail of publishing success. But nothing worth having was ever easy, was it?
I was laughing through my pain, Rosalie. Every time I get another rejection I go through the "what can I do to make myself be what they want" agony. It's so great to know I'm not alone in that. By the way, I raised goats for many years, and ritual sacrifice is going to take a LOT of fire. And bring plenty of barbecue sauce. Thanks for the blog. Martha Zimmer (author of The Smallborn)
Thanks, Martha. You are certainly not alone. I think there are quite a few of us out there, doing the 'How can I be want they want?' frenzied dance. Not sure why, but I suddenly rebelled and wrote this post :-)
This famous line from the very popular movie, The Sixth Sense, has been quoted over and over, but for Maureen Hancock communing with the dead isn't a joke, it's a way of life.
In The Medium Next Door, Maureen shares her life story which includes some of her own tragedies as well as her ability to hear and respond to the dead. This unique talent of Maureen's has helped many grieving people obtain peace, she has solved mysteries, assisted the dying and has landed her her very own television show.
What makes Maureen different from all the other "ghostbusters"? "I enjoy making people smile," Maureen says. "I think what differentiates me from other spirit mediums is that I believe our loved ones in spirit enjoy coming through with a celebration and not reliving another wake." In addition Maureen likes to "jump in with humour and help the person left behind know that it's okay to continue living, laughing and celebrating these great memories."
Even if you're skeptical about "ghosts" and an afterlife, Maureen's candor and readings are chillingly accurate - I found myself wishing she had a message from beyond for me! She also looks like an ordinary mom (no layers of flowing scarves and dangling jewelry). Her humor throughout the book is a wonderful change for a subject that could otherwise be morose.
I will admit I had my doubts about Maureen's authenticity when I first picked up her book, however, the more I read the more I believed she truly does have a wonderful gift and the fact that she uses it for good (lots of time for free) is just more convincing.
by William Pene Du Bois
Viking Press 1956
In an animal factory in the sky winged artists invent new animals, including one very unusual looking lion.
Artist Foreman, looking suspiciously like an angel, was one of the first animal designers in the Animal Factory in the sky. Now in semi-retirement as, well, a foreman to the other artists, he has come up with a new name for an animal --
Health and Wellness week continues with my review of Soul Proof by Dr. Mark Pitstick.
Who are we? Why are we here? What's next after this life, anything?
Soul Proof; Compelling Evidence You Are An Infinite Spiritual Being will answer these questions and many others. Dr. Pitstick covers all areas of spirituality...
~ After Death Contacts
~ Near-Death Experiences
~ Miraculous and Revelatory Experiences
~ Scientific Input
~ Paranormal Experience
~ Input from Religious and Spirituality
~ Peri-natal Evidence ~ Reincarnation Evidence ~ Firsthand Experience and Other Ways of Knowing
Dr. Pitstick's makes a good case for all the above areas and, even though I may not agree with everything, I found Soul Proof to be an interesting and compelling read.
Check out Soul Proof and Dr. Mark Pitstick's website for more information at; http://www.soulproof.com/
0 Comments on Soul Proof - A Review as of 1/1/1900
For a split second I thought of doing something related to the band Journey, but since it wouldn't be very positive, I resisted the urge. I guess you could call this the ultimate journey, depending on your behavior... Enjoy. Process was hand drawn sketch, scanned into Illustrator, redrawn with brush tool. Copied and pasted into Photoshop and then colored in assorted layers.
0 Comments on Illustraton Friday : Journey as of 1/1/1900
"In Heaven, children angels spend their days frolicking in ever blossoming gardens filled with brightly colored flowers. They play among sweet scented fruit trees on soft wind-swept grassy pathways."
2 Comments on Daughter in Heaven, last added: 1/28/2011
While walking down the street one day a Corrupt Senator wastragically hit by a car and died. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peterat the entrance.
"Welcome to heaven," says St. Peter."Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official aroundthese parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in," says theSenator.
"Well, I'd like to, but I have orders fromthe higher ups. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven.Then you can choose where to spend eternity."
"Really? I've made up my mind. I want to bein heaven," says the Senator.
"I'm sorry, but we have our rules."
And with that, St. Peter escorts him to theelevator and he goes down to hell.
The doors open and he finds himself in the middleof a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in frontof it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. Theyrun to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times theyhad while getting rich at the expense of the people. They played a friendly game of golf and then dineon lobster, caviar and the finest champagne. Also present is the devil, who really is a veryfriendly guy who is having a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are all having such a good time that beforethe Senator realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waveswhile the elevator rises.
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopensin heaven where St. Peter i
0 Comments on The Best of the Internet: Heaven or Hell? as of 1/1/1900
“Do you think that in Heaven we’ll ever laugh until we cry?”. My friend asked from across the table.
We had been talking about the political debates coming up. That had followed talk about baseball, the up-coming playoffs, and whether Cliff Lee would get the Cy Young (which would be EXCELLENT). I wasn’t sure how one makes the transition in the mind from how pathetically weak debates have been (with the exception of those hosted by the late great Tim Russert) to laughing so hard that you cry….and doing so in heaven? So I had to ask.
“Where in the world did that come from?”
“Well….uh….”. He apparently wasn’t sure either. “Gosh. We were talking about the debates, which made me think of past debates, which made me think of Bentzen’s JFK blather with Quayle, then Reagan’s famous line about age coming after the debate in which Reagan LOOKED old. Man, that was a great debate. Uh, then I thought about the “Read my lips” bunk…which reminded me of… Uh… golly… “. So far the closest thing to laughing in heaven would have been the Reagan line…but he clearly wasn’t connecting those dots. “Oh! Then I thought of Marilyn Monroe.”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “How did she get in here?”.
“The JFK thing.”. He said it with some offense–as though he were saying, “Duh!”
“Ah.”
“Then I thought of the Three Stooges, and”
“Wait! You go from Marilyn Monroe to the Three Stooges?!”
Sheepishly, he says, “Well, they were both in show business.”
If I was able to raise a single eyebrow (I am not), this is when I would have done it. Since I can’t, I just screwed up my face to as forceful a Question Mark as I could.
“Please,” I say, “do go on.”
“Well, obviously,” a word I would NOT be using here, if it were me, “the Three Stooges led to…”
Wait. Let me cut into the scene right here. You are very likely thinking that the Stooges led to “laughing until you cry” in heaven. In my years of experience with this otherwise very reasonable and intelligent man, I have learned to expect otherwise. However, I was expecting that, too.
“…people being dead, and…”
And so it went for two more minutes.
Somehow or other, we got back to the combination of laughter and heaven.
“…Then the Ted Bundy thing led me back to people who were dead, which reminded me of the Three Stooges, which made me think of Laurel and Hardy, which made me think of a time I was watching Spanky and Alfalfa when I laughed until I cried. And then I wondered whether we’d laugh that hard in heaven. And here we are”.
He paused smuggly, as though this exhaustive and impossible trail justified everything. “So,” another, more dramatic and smug pause, “do you think we’ll ever laugh until we cry in heaven?”
I was still reeling mentally. The abrupt end came as somewhat of a shock to me.
“Do you think that in Heaven we’ll ever laugh until we cry?”. My friend asked from across the table.
We had been talking about the political debates coming up. That had followed talk about baseball, the up-coming playoffs, and whether Cliff Lee would get the Cy Young (which would be EXCELLENT). I wasn’t sure how one makes the transition in the mind from how pathetically weak debates have been (with the exception of those hosted by the late great Tim Russert) to laughing so hard that you cry….and doing so in heaven? So I had to ask.
“Where in the world did that come from?”
“Well….uh….”. He apparently wasn’t sure either. “Gosh. We were talking about the debates, which made me think of past debates, which made me think of Bentzen’s JFK blather with Quayle, then Reagan’s famous line about age coming after the debate in which Reagan LOOKED old. Man, that was a great debate. Uh, then I thought about the “Read my lips” bunk…which reminded me of… Uh… golly… “. So far the closest thing to laughing in heaven would have been the Reagan line…but he clearly wasn’t connecting those dots. “Oh! Then I thought of Marilyn Monroe.”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “How did she get in here?”.
“The JFK thing.”. He said it with some offense–as though he were saying, “Duh!”
“Ah.”
“Then I thought of the Three Stooges, and”
“Wait! You go from Marilyn Monroe to the Three Stooges?!”
Sheepishly, he says, “Well, they were both in show business.”
If I was able to raise a single eyebrow (I am not), this is when I would have done it. Since I can’t, I just screwed up my face to as forceful a Question Mark as I could.
“Please,” I say, “do go on.”
“Well, obviously,” a word I would NOT be using here, if it were me, “the Three Stooges led to…”
Wait. Let me cut into the scene right here. You are very likely thinking that the Stooges led to “laughing until you cry” in heaven. In my years of experience with this otherwise very reasonable and intelligent man, I have learned to expect otherwise. However, I was expecting that, too.
“…people being dead, and…”
And so it went for two more minutes.
Somehow or other, we got back to the combination of laughter and heaven.
“…Then the Ted Bundy thing led me back to people who were dead, which reminded me of the Three Stooges, which made me think of Laurel and Hardy, which made me think of a time I was watching Spanky and Alfalfa when I laughed until I cried. And then I wondered whether we’d laugh that hard in heaven. And here we are”.
He paused smuggly, as though this exhaustive and impossible trail justified everything. “So,” another, more dramatic and smug pause, “do you think we’ll ever laugh until we cry in heaven?”
I was still reeling mentally. The abrupt end came as somewhat of a shock to me.
Cartoon for the Dutch Nu.nl news website, about the death of a man who had fallen into a vat of chocolate, combined with a wink to the death of popstar Michael Jackson.
Here I am, about to turn 1/2 a century. That's enough to give anyone pause-can I really have been alive that long? I don't feel any older than I did when I was 20. Ok, Ok, maybe when it's really cold or raining and my broken/healed ankle hurts or my fingers feel a little stiff, maybe then I feel my age, but for the most part I wonder who that woman is in the mirror!
I stand amazed at how my body is growing older and my mind/spirit is staying put. How is that possible? Is that how we age and stay "young at heart?" In my mind I can keep up with my grandkids, I can exercise with the best of them, I can hike up the mountain and ride my bike and not get tired out too quickly. In reality, I fade fast, I get winded quickly, my body hurts, it takes days to recover from just a hike in the heat! I don't hold up like I used to. I think I'll stick to my fantasy of not growing old!
I look at my Dad and Mom and wonder how they grew old, in my mind they are the young, active parents who tried so hard to keep up with my sister and brother and I. I still see my Dad in his cowboy hat and black and white custom boots, standing on the mesa looking for all the world like an older James Dean. I see my Mom in pedal pushers (now called Capri's!) and loafers, curly brown hair and a curvy figure, catching the eyes of the guys as she passes by. Those are the parents I remember and still see - not noticing the gray hair and bifocals.
I still have two grandparents alive. My grandchildren have great, great grandparents! They are both weak and feeble and I know in my heart they won't be here long. We truly are a "vapor, a mist" a blip in the grand scheme of things.
How can we make our mark on this world? How do we keep ourselves "alive" in the memories and history of our world when we are not famous, we are not world leaders, we are not in the news, how? We leave a heritage of our children and they carry on our ideals, our looks, our beliefs in God, our past. As long as we remain in their memories, we remain .
I am feeling very mortal this week. We had our sixth grandchild and out of six children two are now estranged. I celebrated the birth of a new life into this world and it hung by a thread. It is still in the balance as I write this. He was born with a serious congenital birth defect and will have surgery on Monday. He was hooked to so many machines I couldn't even hold him. All I could do was stoke his head and sing to him and tell him how much he was loved and to hold on, Jesus was holding him tight when we couldn't. How could I have lived my life for nearly 50 years and this child not even have a chance? I would trade with him.
In heaven we have two grandchildren. I am comforted by the knowledge that I will see them someday and at the same time haunted by the refrain from Sting's song, "Will I know in you in Heaven..." Will I know them?
The Bible tell us we are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, cheering us on toward the goal. Who are those witnesses? Angels, family members, people who have passed that know of us but perhaps our verbal history has forgotten them? I don't know. I do know they are there, they are cheering for me and for you. My babies are there, my Grandfather is there, Trace's Dad is there, ancestors that I don't know, and eventually my parents will be there. They will know of my race, they will be at the finish line when I go to meet Jesus. Thank you God. Thank you for letting us know our families know about us, have knowledge even when they have passed over. It is comforting, it is a security blanket that helps me feel OK about growing older and eventually leaving this world for a better place.
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He read your opening chapters though - that's pretty good going as I'm sure many agents never progress beyond the covering letter of most subs.
Hmm, not sure he actually read them, beyond doing an adverb count! :)
Very funny, Rosalie - I didn't read as being about submissions to agents though, but as a general swipe at all those stern rules about writing that get brandished by how-to books and creative writing teachers (including, from time to time, many of us!)
Really entertaining post - good luck in your search. I'm sure there's an agent out there for you!
Thanks, Liz - perhaps :-)
And thanks, Sue. You're right, it wasn't intended to be a swipe at agents in themselves - just the silly attitudes we are sometimes encouraged to have towards them :-)
"the screeds of advice on how to appease them that sometimes get my goat."
That goat will come in handy for the ritual sacrifice ;) Please don't post the photos of the entrails-divination *giggling *obviously,borderingonhysterical
Great post!
Just as well we can all still find ways to smile through the ups and downs, the do's and don'ts and most of all the mass of conflicting advice on how to reach the holy grail of publishing success.
But nothing worth having was ever easy, was it?
Elaine - :D Great idea - entrails will be appearing soon! Though I'm rather fond of goats so may keep it as a pet, instead.
Linda, thanks. Yep, the only way is to smile...
Brilliant post Rosalie!
Brilliant blog post!
Thanks, Dianne and Karen. Glad you liked my post. Must dash off to my devotions now...
I was laughing through my pain, Rosalie. Every time I get another rejection I go through the "what can I do to make myself be what they want" agony. It's so great to know I'm not alone in that. By the way, I raised goats for many years, and ritual sacrifice is going to take a LOT of fire. And bring plenty of barbecue sauce. Thanks for the blog.
Martha Zimmer (author of The Smallborn)
Thanks, Martha. You are certainly not alone. I think there are quite a few of us out there, doing the 'How can I be want they want?' frenzied dance. Not sure why, but I suddenly rebelled and wrote this post :-)
My father just read this, roared with laughter and then said, "I hope you are taking note."
:-)