Ordinary Life

The question was recently posed amongst a group of friends whether our depressions and anxieties are sinister voices that hail from a spiritual realm or are but the echo of our own inner cynic. I rarely feel the need to opine on such things, but it just so happens that I have been pondering the same line of thought over the past few months myself. I don't have the ability or desire to speak definitively, but wouldn't mind joining the conversation. Here's what I've got so far : Not that long ago, I realized something helpful: every thing a particular human enemy was saying aloud to me was exactly what a spiritual force bent on destruction would say if given a human voice. This person was close enough to know what was important to me and where I was most prone, so that is where they aimed their lashing tongue. I came to believe that, because this person was not yielded to kindness, they had offered themselves as an open tap for discouragement. One name used for a spiritua...

I recently picked up Elizabeth Smart's book at a local thrift store.  It terrified me. As in, check all the closets, lock all the doors, "What was that noise?!" terrified me.  It was not unlike watching a Criminal Minds episode... too late at night... and home all alone.  I finished the book shortly before bedtime and so, I slept with flashlight and pepper spray nearby and I  set up noise traps at RyeBird's windows. She usually eventually ends up in 'the big bed' with us, but for the 45 minutes where she actually slept in her own bed, it was extra peace of mind. I did not sleep in  MY own bed. I just lay there, hyper-vigilant.   ~*~  Sometimes, it is nice to pretend that the world isn't as sick and twisted as it really is, but stories like this deny that charade. The world is broken...very, very badly in some places.  The month prior to this, I had picked up Jaycee Duggard's story at a different thrift store. Also scary. So I am now convinced that...