Some good quotes from Phyllis Theroux

I think this is what hooks one to gardening: it is the closest one can come to being present at creation.

Mistakes are the usual bridge between inexperience and wisdom.

An enlightened person raises the level of the consciousness of the entire community.

Children are born with imaginations in mint condition, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Then life corrects for grandiosity.

Falling silent should be cultivated, the way the woods fall silent in the snow. Messages you can’t send any other way can be heard.

Every house has its own private cup of sorrow. 

Writing is a deeply spiritual act that can have a profound effect upon the practitioner.

Writing is not only a reflection of what one thinks and feels but a rope one weaves with words that can lower you below or hoist you above the surface of your life, enabling you to go deeper or higher than you would otherwise go. What excites me about his metaphor is that is makes writing much more than a lifesaving venture.

There were times, in the beginning, when I used my journal as a wailing wall, but I learned not to immortalize the darkness. Rereading it was counterproductive. What I needed was a place in which to collect the light.

Everything we are given or learn or possess in any real sense - - the ability to play Beethoven sonata, write books, understand the principles of physics – is intended for one thing: to draw us closer to our selves.

To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart.

Some recommendations: a book--The Journal Keeper: A Memoir; a TV series--The Sinner; and a film--Thelma

Winter is a season that keeps me indoors a lot of the time. I miss my garden and being outdoors, so it ends up being a good opportunity to catch up on my reading, movie watching, and TV watching. The latter two have tended to merge into each other since the movie theaters here have reduced their offerings considerably. Going to the movies is not what it once was, sadly. I keep hoping that movie theaters will not disappear altogether, but you never know given the ease of streaming films on nearly any device you wish to use.

I am reading Phyllis Theroux’s The Journal Keeper: A Memoir at present; I am only a fourth of the way through it, but can wholeheartedly recommend it. This memoir is a collection of her reflections on: her life as a writer, writing, the joys and difficulties of being a writer, finances, life, love, friendship, and her mistakes, strengths, dreams and desires. They are all things to which I can relate. She lived with (and took care of) her nearly-blind mother until she passed away, so she understands the passage of time and the importance of living now and doing what it is we must do. She understands the idea of trying to be the best version of herself. She is honest, unflinching and clear about her progress, successes and failures, about her relationships with her mother, children, neighbors and friends. It is rare that I come across a voice that resonates with me, or better-put, resonates with that part of me that is facing many of the same challenges. I look forward to picking up her book again in the evening before I sleep; I look forward to hearing what she has to say. She could be a friend; she is at the very least someone I would truly enjoy getting to know.

I have also discovered The Sinner, a 2017 TV series starring Jessica Biel. She plays a young married woman with a child, and her life seems to be ordinary and reasonably happy. She and her husband seem to have a good relationship. They both work together at the same company run by her husband’s father. And then one day when she and her family are relaxing on the beach at a nearby lake, she suddenly and inexplicably stands up, knife in hand, and proceeds to stab to death the young man sitting at a distance in front of her. And then the story really begins, because we know she has murdered him. The question is why. And that why is a journey into her psyche, her family life before she married, her relationship with her terminally-ill sister, and her relationship with her parents (especially an over-religious mother). The policeman assigned to her case tries to dig into her past in an effort to find answers as to why she would murder someone for apparently no reason. We know of course that he will find out many things, and many of them are not pleasant. I’ll leave it at that, but suffice it to say that Jessica Biel owns the role of The Sinner—a woman whose present life is suddenly and without warning, ripped unmercifully apart by her past. It’s a gripping crime drama, but not one for those under sixteen, due to the often lurid subject matter and the sexual situations.  

And in the same vein (repressed young woman whose life takes a bizarre turn), we have Thelma, a 2017 film by the Norwegian director Joachim Trier. After seeing this film, I ask--what scares you? As a former horror movie aficionado, I find that as I get older, it’s not the blood and guts horror films that really scare me. The films that have the greatest impact on me, the ones that linger in my mind long after they’re over, the ones that scare me when I think back on them--are the films that create the suggestion of terror, of horror, of the supernatural. They’re the films that have an ominous cloud hanging over them, a cloud that creates paranoia and murkiness. They’re the films where nearly everything that happens has some sort of darker meaning. In Thelma, crows have a special meaning. Panic attacks similar to epileptic seizures have a special meaning. Thelma’s father and mother understand this. Is Thelma a witch? Has she inherited her grandmother's psychological disorder involving the ability to use psychokinesis to change situations that upset or anger her (think of the main protagonist in the 1976 film Carrie). Or is she just a disturbed young woman whose meeting with first love just happens to be a lesbian relationship, which throws her psyche into direct conflict with her repressive religious upbringing that both her parents have foisted upon her. What horrific secrets lie in her past to explain her present life? There are secrets, and there are unpleasant revelations that can only lead to one outcome—again, that the past rears its ugly head to upset the present, because the past cannot be repressed forever. Repressed feelings, if they cannot be normally expressed, find their way out in other ways. What will it take to free Thelma from her past? And what happens if she is freed from it? Eventually, she finds out, and the outcome is disturbing. Thelma is worth seeing; it’s a hard-to-define movie. Is it a psychological thriller or is it a horror film? I'd say it's both. It gives viewers chills down the spine, a sense of foreboding, an uncomfortable feeling, and a feeling of dread concerning (knowing) what comes next. Both Thelma and The Sinner excel in this regard.  

   

Worth seeing--Timelapse of the Entire Universe

This video--Timelapse of the Entire Universe--is pretty incredible and worth seeing. Check it out here.

Wanting winter to end

This winter seems to be dragging on forever. I cannot wait for it to end. I cannot wait for spring to come, bringing with it sunshine, light, warmth, flowers, birds, garden life, and all the other nice things associated with spring and summer. Me, I’m no winter girl. I like living in a place with four seasons, but this year it feels like the only season has been winter, winter, and more winter. It’s been nonstop cold and snow since November, and this past summer was fairly lousy since it rained a lot. Enough already. Bring on the sunshine……

I suppose I shouldn’t complain, but I’m entitled to at least one negative comment before I return to the ‘Ok, this is how it is’ demeanor. There’s nothing to do about the weather, I know. My mother used to say that all the time, and she’s right. I don’t think I ever heard her complain about the weather. She went out walking in rain or sunshine, snow or sleet. She was a role model, but it’s tough to emulate her. Sometimes I wonder how she did it, how she stood it, without complaining. She so rarely complained.

I usually don’t mind winters. But when there is snow on the ground all the time, when the sidewalks are icy and treacherous, when the roads and bicycle paths are the only travel paths prioritized, then I get sick of it. I think I have a touch of cabin fever this year. Cabin fever “is an idiomatic term for a claustrophobic reaction that takes place when a person or group ends up in an isolated or solitary location, or stuck indoors in confined quarters for an extended period. Cabin fever describes the extreme irritability and restlessness a person may feel in these situations” (Wikipedia).

I can relate to the restlessness. I am used to being outdoors, to walking a lot, to working in my garden. I cannot do these things now. Walking here in Oslo is treacherous since many of the sidewalks are not cleared properly; this is true not only of this winter, but of past winters. No one picks up a shovel to clear a path for anyone. They all wait for the city officials to organize it. I think the city officials don’t give too much of a damn about how treacherous the sidewalks are. They care more about the fact that the bicycle paths are cleared, for the small number of people (mostly the Foodora bicyclists) who use these paths. Ah well. My consolation is that New York is not having a much better time; it too has had a record amount of snow, and another storm is predicted for the Hudson Valley this week. As is another storm for Oslo. Let winter be over soon, please.

Pigeon outside our kitchen window waiting to get fed

The pigeons wait for us to enter the kitchen each morning during the wintertime. They know we'll be putting out sunflower seeds and they can't wait to eat! Sometimes they'll peer in to see if we're there; other times they tap on the metal windowsill outside the window, letting us know that they're there and waiting. Birds rule.