Storm schedule

We have a Winter Storm Watch from six o’clock tonight until the same time tomorrow. “Significant snow” is expected, with increasing winds tomorrow. We’ve a few things to pick up at the grocery store, assuming we get out before the crowds gather.

After spending (too much) time on the Internet, yesterday, I plan to pull back and get more housework done. The laundry’s taken care of, but dirty cups, dishes and flatware continue to proliferate like wire clothes hangers in the closet. We have external To Do’s on this evening’s calendar. Might just put the weather radar on the larger screen with automatic refresh switched on, once we’re back from the grocer’s.

As I have been gone from the Internet often during the past week or so, I logged into SFF.Net’s newsgroups, this morning, and learned that an acquaintance from the Science Fiction Poetry Association (I stepped up to fill out his term as Secretary perhaps eight years ago, when he resigned mid-term for health reasons) is in hospital and not expected to live for many more days.

It crosses my mind, again, that these are the events of life that matter to me personally, and not the posturing of politicians or countries or “grassroots” movements instigated and/or funded by this interest group or that. This is where prayer reposes, the point to which I return.

My personal prayers circle “God, forgive me for not being perfect. It’s so embarrassing. Please fix it soon . . . retroactively. I can’t stand it!” to the point where I glance at them and wince. Not worrying about anything, but praying about everything must expand much farther and more meaningfully beyond my own, personal mental and emotional misfirings and self-absorbed discomforts. Sort of like Julia Cameron’s “morning pages”: spend the first three writing pages on winnowing through the self-serving, surface junk, and then move on to real life and real priorities. I’d like to think that I am cutting off the whining prayers faster, now. Loving myself no more than my neighbors, more often. I suspect that they soon morf into less conspicuous forms, that it would be an endless process, were I to indulge.  Pray and move on!

Time to get up and put the coffee on to brew. Wishing you genuine peace of mind and satisfying preoccupations!

In the Light,



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