I had hoped to find some exciting treasures in the cat litter box — maybe a fossilised dinosaur bone or a golden figurine — as I was busily performing sort of an archeological dig in there — but found nothing of value.

Is there a lesson to be learned from this excavation?

A lesson, maybe, in the futility of hoping for what cannot be?

A hope, maybe, to find meaning where there is none?

But from where, then, did this golden figurine of wisdom come?

I excavated it, just now, from the cat litter box.

Porn set them free

#nsfw #couple

They still had a few weeks before the trip. In that time, Aisha started to take charge of their new life with porn. It was no longer just something they stumbled into—it was something she wanted to define. One night, while they were lying together after another round of porn-fueled sex, Aisha turned serious. “Marcus,” she said, “I want you to know… it’s okay. It’s okay to watch porn when we are not having sex. It’s okay that it’s mostly Black women. Don’t hide that from me.”

He looked at her, surprised. “You don’t mind?”

She shook her head, her short afro brushing the pillow. “Not at all. You have good taste. And honestly… watching them, these beautiful nude women—it’s made me feel stronger. Like I’m one of them. Like I could be them.”

Marcus swallowed hard, his beard hiding the faint smile on his lips. “You’ve been watching a lot of porn, haven’t you?”

Aisha laughed softly. “Research, baby. I’ve learned things. New toys, butt plugs, squirting, even those crazy machines… fuck machines, creature cocks. I’ve seen it all.” She paused, her voice lowering. “And I want to watch more. I'm really starting to enjoy watching nothing but porn thanks to you.”

They both knew then—this wasn’t just a phase. It was a lifestyle taking root. Together, they agreed to buy a separate computer, one dedicated only to porn. No emails, no work, no distractions. Just porn. Shared tabs, shared playlists, wallpaper backgrounds, and eventually, a screen that never really turned off. Porn became the glow in their living room, a presence that was always there.

Then one night, as they sat together on the couch, Aisha said something that made Marcus’s heart race. “Marcus,” she whispered, “We’re becoming gooners. Let’s own it.”

He frowned slightly. “Gooners? What’s that?”

She smirked, her caramel skin shining in the flicker of the screen. “It means we don’t just watch porn. We live it. We edge. We worship it. We let it take us over.” Her voice dropped even lower. “We let it make us better.”

As she explained, her hand drifted into her pants, almost without thought. She had started doing this more often—touching herself randomly, not even needing a reason, not even needing to cum. Just edging, staying in the haze. Gooning.

Marcus shifted, his erection pressing against his shorts. “You’re serious,” he murmured, half in awe. “You’re really into this more than me.”

Her eyes gleamed, locked on his. “You started it. You created this monster.”

He leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. Instead, she picked up the remote and turned on the big screen. Porn filled the living room, moans echoing off the walls.

“We’re going to watch more porn from now on,” she said firmly. “No excuses. No shame. Only porn.”

Aisha got obsessed with porn—and Marcus didn’t stop her. If anything, he encouraged it by staying out of her way, letting her take the lead. She bought more screens for the house, filling every room with the glow of endless clips. She started collecting, curating, saving, downloading, and organizing until their storage maxed out. Finally, she invested in a high-end file storage system, building a digital vault for their—really, her—porn collection. It was meticulous, almost devotional.

Marcus just let her be. It was amazing to him watching her bloom in obsession. His once-reserved wife was now a creature of constant arousal. She began going around the house naked at all times, no matter what. Cooking naked, cleaning naked, folding laundry with porn moaning from the speakers, her hand slipping between her legs mid-task without hesitation. Marcus even caught her naked in the backyard one day soaking up the sun and listening to porn in her ear buds.

Slowly over time, porn was on every screen, every device, every wall—a constant presence.

Orgasms became rare, almost beside the point. They would fuck, yes—but it wasn’t about release. It was about edging, staying high on stimulation, staring at screens while they moved together, prolonging the haze. They were sinking deeper into porn, and somehow deeper into each other too. Every time she felt like he was close to cumming, she would pull away leaving him hard, throbbing and edged.

They made a silent pact together to live as long as possible in perpetual edged-out bliss with porn.

Their friends drifted away. Most had families, and small talk that felt increasingly hollow. The constant state of sexual arousal due to edging made it even more meaningless.

It was easy to slowly let those ties go. What did they need friends for when Marcus had something better? He had a wife who was horny, porn-addicted, and unapologetically shameless. She started riding naked in the car when Marcus was driving. Her hand between her legs casually touching her clit like it was the most normal thing in the world.

She made a porn-addicted life completely normal. He loved it.

Aisha fed the addiction with glee. She flooded Marcus’s phone with porn clips throughout the day—sometimes dozens at a time. Occasionally, she would slip in a nude selfie or a picture of her touching herself, just to see if he noticed among the torrent of porn. Her body and porn were blending into one in his feed, into one in his mind.

She willed porn into every fabric of her life. She began to think about porn constantly. At work, she daydreamed about it, her body tingling as she stared at spreadsheets or answered customer complaints. At home, she watched nothing but porn for weeks straight—no movies, no TV shows, no news. Just porn. Always porn.

Marcus didn’t mind. She let him watch the game on his phone while she rubbed her pussy watching porn on the big screen in the living room.

One night, while they lay in the flickering glow of multiple screens, she finally confessed. Her voice trembled with both fear and exhilaration.

“Marcus… it’s getting out of hand. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I love it too much. I love being this way—unlocked, free, naked, dripping because of porn. I need it just to get wet now. I need it every second. And…” She reached for his hand, eyes glassy. “I love you for letting me be this way. For not judging me. For letting me drown in it.”

Marcus kissed her forehead, his eyes on the screen even as he held her. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

And with that, they sank even deeper—into porn, into obsession, into each other.

When Jesus taught His disciples how to pray, He didn’t hand them a formula to recite mechanically. He gave them a living, breathing conversation with God — spoken in the ancient Aramaic tongue, rich with layers of emotion, culture, and divine wisdom. Yet over centuries of translation, some of the depth and poetry of His words have been flattened by language barriers.

Today, we rediscover that depth together. This is not just a prayer; it’s a map of spiritual transformation — a doorway into connection, forgiveness, and alignment with the heart of God.

➡️ Experience the full teaching by Douglas Vandergraph in The Lord’s Prayer in Aramaic meaning — a powerful journey uncovering how each line of this sacred prayer reveals the divine design for your inner life.

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1. The Power of Returning to the Original Language

Aramaic was the spoken language of Jesus and most of first-century Galilee. It was intimate, earthy, and expressive — not a liturgical code, but a living dialect of daily life. Understanding The Lord’s Prayer in Aramaic meaning helps us hear Jesus’ teaching the way His disciples did: not as abstract theology but as direct, heart-to-heart invitation.

According to scholars like Neil Douglas-Klotz (Abwoon Interspiritual Translations) and sources such as Britannica and BibleGateway, the English translation “Our Father who art in heaven” only captures a small portion of the richness carried in the word Abwoon. In Aramaic, Abwoon d’bwashmaya fuses “abba” (father) and “woon” (birther, source, breath) — implying a creative power that births and sustains all things (abwoon.org).

Rather than imagining a distant deity, Jesus began His prayer by addressing the Source of Life that breathes through all creation. It’s both transcendent and immanent — infinite yet as close as your next breath.

When you pray from this awareness, you don’t speak to God as someone far away. You awaken within God — the living presence already sustaining you.

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2. “Abwoon d’bwashmaya” — Our Father, the Breath of Life

In Aramaic:

Abwoon d’bwashmaya

Literal expansion: “O Birther! Father-Mother of the Cosmos — You create all that moves in light.”

This first line isn’t about hierarchy or gender. It opens a relationship of intimacy and reverence. In ancient Jewish thought, the “Name” of God wasn’t a label; it was the living vibration of God’s being. Saying Abwoon connects us to that vibration — a moment of breathing with the Divine Breath.

Reflection

• When you inhale, you receive God’s breath; when you exhale, you release your fear.
• Every breath becomes prayer. Every heartbeat becomes communion.

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3. “Nethqadash shmakh” — Hallowed Be Thy Name

“Focus Your light within us; make it useful: as the rays of a beacon show the way.” (readsuzette.com)

“Hallowed” in Aramaic doesn’t merely mean “holy” as in distant purity; it means shining, radiant, made visible. Jesus was teaching that God’s sacred name becomes visible through how we live.

When we live truthfully, act kindly, and forgive freely, we hallow God’s name — we make God’s character visible in the world.

Reflection

• Holiness is not withdrawal from the world; it’s illumination within it.
• Let your life become the lantern through which others see God’s light.

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4. “Teytey malkuthakh” — Thy Kingdom Come

“Come into being — Your kingdom, Your reign, Your guidance through us.” (redeemerbaltimore.org)

In English, “kingdom” sounds like territory. In Aramaic, malkutha means an active state of divine counsel — the flow of God’s harmony. When we pray Teytey malkuthakh, we’re not begging for heaven to fall from the sky. We’re opening our hearts for God’s order to unfold within and around us.

It’s not “someday.” It’s now. The Kingdom comes when love governs your motives and mercy rules your decisions.

Reflection

• Every act of compassion builds the Kingdom.
• When God’s will moves through you, heaven is already here.

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5. “Nehwey sebyanach aykanna d’bwashmaya aph b’arha” — Thy Will Be Done

In Aramaic, this line means:

“Let Your delight and purpose unfold through us, as in the shining heavens, so on earth — within and without.” (abwoon.org)

Jesus didn’t teach passive submission; He taught alignment. God’s will isn’t domination but design — the rhythm of life in harmony. When our hearts move with that rhythm, heaven’s pattern manifests on earth.

Reflection

• Stop fighting divine timing. Flow with it.
• God’s will is not a weight; it’s a wind in your sails.

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6. “Habwlan lachma d’sunqanan yaomana” — Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

Here the Aramaic lachma can mean bread, nourishment, or understanding. Thus, Jesus’ phrase asks not only for food but for the sustenance of wisdom:

“Grant what we need each day in bread and insight: sustenance for the call of growing life.” (abwoon.org)

It’s a reminder that the body and the soul require feeding. Physical bread keeps us alive; spiritual insight keeps us awake. When we pray this line, we are also asking, “Feed me with what will make me grow.”

Reflection

• Don’t just pray for what fills your stomach; pray for what fills your purpose.
• Every challenge is a classroom; every blessing is provision for your calling.

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7. “Washboqlan khaubayn aykana daph khnan shbwoqan l’khayyabayn” — Forgive Us Our Debts

In Aramaic:

“Loose the cords of mistakes binding us, as we release the strands we hold of others’ guilt.” (abwoon.org)

Forgiveness isn’t an accounting term; it’s about energy and relationship. The Aramaic idea is of untying knots, releasing cords. Every grudge is a cord that binds your soul. When you forgive, you free both yourself and the other person to breathe again.

Reflection

• To forgive is not to forget, but to untie.
• Holding resentment poisons the vessel that holds it.

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8. “Wela tahlan l’nesyuna ela patsan min bisha” — Lead Us Not Into Temptation

This phrase is often misunderstood. God does not “lead” us into sin. In Aramaic, nesyuna refers to testing or forgetfulness. The meaning is:

“Do not let us enter the state of forgetfulness of who we are; but free us from unripeness, from immature choices.” (abwoon.org)

Temptation, then, is losing awareness of our divine identity. Deliverance is remembering who we are in God.

Reflection

• Temptation begins in amnesia — forgetting your worth.
• Every moment of remembrance is victory over evil.

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9. “Metol d’deelakh hee malkutha wahayla wateshbukhta l’ahlam ahlmin amen” — For Thine Is the Kingdom

Though later manuscripts added this doxology, its Aramaic resonance completes the circle:

“From You is born all ruling will, the power and life to do, the song that renews all from age to age.” (readsuzette.com)

Here, prayer becomes praise. We return everything we have borrowed — will, power, glory — back to its Source. The universe sings through this reciprocity: giving and receiving, inhaling and exhaling divine life.

Reflection

• Gratitude is the language heaven understands best.
• Everything beautiful begins and ends in God.

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10. Living the Prayer, Not Just Saying It

When Jesus said, “After this manner therefore pray ye,” He wasn’t prescribing a formula — He was describing a way of being. The Lord’s Prayer, in its Aramaic meaning, is a pattern for living:

LineInvitationTransformationAbwoon d’bwashmayaEnter relationshipFeel oneness with the DivineNethqadash shmakhLet God’s light shine through youBecome a living sanctuaryTeytey malkuthakhWelcome divine orderLive in harmonyNehwey sebyanachAlign your willMove in divine rhythmHabwlan lachmaReceive daily provisionGrow in faithWashboqlan khaubaynForgive and releaseWalk in freedomWela tahlan l’nesyunaStay mindfulOvercome forgetfulnessMetol d’deelakhPraise and returnLive in gratitude

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11. Cultural and Historical Resonance

According to Encyclopaedia Britannica and linguistic studies published by the Journal of Biblical Literature, Aramaic was the bridge between Hebrew scripture and Greek culture. It carried Semitic idioms that expressed intimacy with God in familial language.

When the early church translated the prayer into Greek and then Latin, subtle shifts occurred: verbs of flow became nouns of possession, imagery became abstraction. Rediscovering the Aramaic re-infuses the prayer with life — breathing movement back into faith.

This linguistic journey also bridges Christianity with its Jewish roots. Jesus’ prayer echoes Hebrew psalms and rabbinic blessings but speaks with the freshness of relationship rather than ritual. In this way, understanding The Lord’s Prayer in Aramaic meaning unites reverence for heritage with renewal of spirit.

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12. Transforming Your Daily Prayer Life

To let this prayer transform you:

1. Pray slowly. Whisper each Aramaic word aloud. Feel the syllables vibrate in your chest.

2. Visualize. When you say Abwoon, picture creation breathing with you.

3. Personalize. Replace “us” with names — your family, friends, world — so intercession flows naturally.

4. Live each line. Let forgiveness shape your actions, not just your words.

5. End with gratitude. The doxology is a daily reset — a reminder that every breath returns to God.

This turns prayer from duty into dialogue — from routine into relationship.

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13. The Modern Relevance of the Aramaic Prayer

In a fragmented world craving meaning, this ancient prayer offers a universal blueprint for peace:

• Spiritually: It grounds you in humility and divine trust.
• Psychologically: It teaches release of resentment and mindful awareness.
• Socially: It inspires reconciliation and justice.
• Culturally: It connects believers back to Jesus’ authentic voice.

Even those outside Christianity can sense its universal rhythm — breath, forgiveness, alignment, gratitude. It’s a spiritual DNA for humanity itself.

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14. The Prayer That Transforms Communities

Imagine families praying this way — not as rote recitation, but as transformation. Marriages softened by forgiveness, workplaces guided by divine rhythm, cities illuminated by compassion.

The Lord’s Prayer in its Aramaic fullness has the power to heal division because it transcends translation. It calls people back to essence: to breathe, forgive, and align.

When Douglas Vandergraph teaches this prayer, he isn’t offering theology alone — he’s opening a spiritual map. It’s not about the words you say; it’s about who you become when you say them.

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15. Closing Reflection

Every time you whisper Abwoon d’bwashmaya, you step back into the moment when Jesus taught it — the sun on Galilee’s hills, the hush of disciples listening, the wind carrying His words. That same Spirit moves through your breath now.

Let this prayer be more than memory. Let it be motion.

When you pray:

• You align heaven and earth.
• You forgive as you are forgiven.
• You awaken to your divine birthright.

And that is where transformation begins — one breath, one word, one prayer at a time.

Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube

Support the ministry by buying Douglas a coffee

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Your friend in Christ, Douglas Vandergraph

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#LordsPrayer #AramaicPrayer #JesusWords #FaithJourney #SpiritualGrowth #ChristianInspiration #DailyPrayer #DivineConnection #Forgiveness #KingdomCome #BiblicalWisdom

#002250 – 27 de Julho de 2025

Os portugueses, melancólicos e trágicos, gostam da singularidade da palavra saudade. Logo nas primeiras páginas de “Assim Nasceu uma Língua”, de Fernando Venâncio, ficamos a saber da originalidade de uma outra palavra, inexistente noutras línguas europeias: luar.

This week has been difficult for me. I've got lots of stress. The money situation isn't hot. It's also been a relief. The better candidates won in my local election. For the most part, the elections that we saw this year have had a vibe to the winners. We're still in the midst of a shutdown, impacting not only government workers but people who rely on government services. A combination of extreme short-term thinking and grift in the tech sector mean that jobs are hard to come by and extremely unstable.

I don't really want to focus that much on politics here but politics have real world impacts and I'm a part of that real world impact.

Admin day

My goal for this week was to get my accounts set up on Amazon, Kobo, and Author's Republic. Amazon ended up being very stressful but I did get that and Kobo set up. Author's Republic will have to wait a little bit.

Audiobook

I've gotten kind of mixed feedback from Author's Republic about the internal format of an audiobook. Is it 5 or 10 seconds seconds of silence at the beginning and ending? Does silence mean absolute silence of the sort that fails ACX Check? Questions I don't have to solve today but questions I do need to solve sooner rather than later.

Whatever they're after will likely not require the same sort of production effort that was required over the last weeks of October.

Writing progress

The only real writing I got done this week was on The Novel. My wordcount for the week is about 4000 words. That's significantly light of where I'd like to be.

#ProgressUpdate

Bienvenido a Café para el Espíritu, un espacio para hablar de Dios, la familia y la vida diaria, con la sencillez de una buena conversación y el aroma de un cafecito recién hecho.

Cada charla que compartimos está preparada con tacto y propósito, pensando en tu crecimiento espiritual, tu hogar y tu caminar con Jesús.

Nuestra historia

Aunque nuestro programa no tiene tanto que ver con la bebida del café (aunque nos encanta y a veces aparece en cámara), el efecto que buscamos sí es el mismo: que te relajes, reflexiones, y a veces despiertes ante paradigmas sobre la fe cristiana, la familia y la vida cotidiana.

Café para el Espíritu nació hace cerca de dos décadas como un pequeño blog familiar. Con el tiempo se transformó en un video blog que hoy compartimos en redes, con la esperanza de llegar a tu mesa, a tu familia y a tu espíritu.

🎬 Puedes ver nuestros videos en YouTube aquí: 👉 YouTube.com/@CafeParaElEspiritu

También estamos presentes en nuestras demás redes sociales, donde compartimos reflexiones cortas, pensamientos diarios y clips del programa:

• 📸 Instagram: instagram.com/cafeparaelespiritu
• 🎵 TikTok: tiktok.com/@cafe.para.el.espi
• 👍 Facebook: facebook.com/cafeparaelespiritu

Y, por supuesto, puedes visitarnos en nuestro sitio principal: 🌐 cafeparaelespiritu.com

👨‍👩‍👧 Nuestra familia

Somos Job y Evelyn Arroyo, pastores principales en Centro Cristiano Moreh, en Killeen, Texas —una comunidad de fe comprometida con el Reino de Dios y la vida familiar. Ambos hemos servido en el ministerio por muchos años, y lo que compartimos aquí nace de esa mezcla entre experiencia pastoral, vida familiar y la gracia de Dios obrando en lo cotidiano.

Nuestro deseo es ofrecerte, desde nuestra familia a la tuya, un cafecito que inspire, anime y despierte tu espíritu.

☕ Úsalo para relajarte... o para despertar.

📬 Cómo contactarnos

Puedes escribirnos a: 📧 cafeparaelespiritu@gmail.com

O simplemente mandarnos un mensaje privado en cualquiera de nuestras redes sociales. Siempre es un gusto escuchar de ti.

Si deseas conocer nuestra iglesia, visítanos en: 🌐 ccmoreh.churchcenter.com

✍️ Sobre este espacio

Café para el Espíritu sigue creciendo. Esta nueva etapa incluye nuestro blog en Write.as, donde compartiremos reflexiones más personales, meditaciones breves y pensamientos que no siempre caben en un video corto.

Gracias por acompañarnos. Prepárate una taza ☕, siéntate con nosotros y disfruta del contenido. Nos alegra tenerte aquí.

✒️ Por Job & Evelyn Arroyo

Pastores asistentes en Centro Cristiano Moreh Fundadores de Café para el Espíritu

Today, I’m in my third week of Sabbatical! I’ve been doing a lot of reading and I’m feeling the urge to revive an old ritual of sharing what I’m finding interesting lately.

The Benefits of Bubbles by Ben Thompson

Not all bubbles destroy wealth and value. Some can be understood as important catalysts for techno-scientific progress. Most novel technology doesn’t just appear ex nihilo, entering the world fully formed and all at once. Rather, it builds on previous false starts, failures, iterations, and historical path dependencies. Bubbles create opportunities to deploy the capital necessary to fund and speed up such large-scale experimentation — which includes lots of trial and error done in parallel — thereby accelerating the rate of potentially disruptive technologies and breakthroughs.

The piece is quite good and turned me on to Boom: Bubbles and the End of Stagnation which I started reading yesterday.

Tripping Forever: The New Science of Psychedelics & Longevity by Tripsitter

The paper revealed two remarkable findings.

First, cells treated with psilocin showed delayed aging, with telomere length preserved compared to untreated cells. Other molecular markers of longevity shifted in the same direction — higher SIRT1, lower GADD45a, and reduced oxidative stress — all consistent with slower cellular senescence.

Second, mice receiving monthly psilocin doses lived significantly longer — with survival rates climbing to about 80%, compared to roughly 50% in the control group.

In other words, the cells — and the mice — aged slower.

Countless claims have been made about the benefits and side effects of psychedelics. This one is the first I know of related to longevity.

How to Combine Highlights On-the-Fly with Readwise by Readwise

Simply highlight the first string of text you want to combine and add the note .c1 (“c” for “concatenate”). Then, highlight the second string of text and add the note .c2. Upon importing into Readwise, these two highlights will be combined into a single annotation.

I use Readwise Reader for nearly all of my reading. I recently learned it’s possible to combine highlights, something I’ve wanted to be able to do for a while.

How to not build the Torment Nexus by Mike Monteiro.

Industries in decline tend to pick up speed, not reverse course, and their death moan comes when they shift from making things to extracting value.

Not a new piece, but it resonates within the context of the social, economic, and political research I’m doing this week.

Washington County Declares Emergency Over Increased ICE Activity at OPB

Oregon’s most diverse county declared a state of emergency this week because of increased immigration enforcement that has cloaked much of the community in fear over the past few weeks. ... The move follows at least 135 reported arrests by immigration enforcement in the county in October, according to the Portland Immigration Rights Coalition. This number accounts for nearly half the 329 arrests made throughout the state in October.

I’m hearing more and more second-hand reports of questionable tactics and arrests happening in my community. Unbreaking is a great resource for staying up-to-date on immigration and other topics like Food Safety. Their latest piece distills a torrent of activity on immigration from the past few weeks:

For months now, we’ve seen the expansion of a violent and unaccountable federal police force under the aegis of immigration enforcement, and this week, the way that enforcement threatens and interacts with data security is our biggest story. We’re tracking how federal agencies are using facial recognition software in the streets and vastly expanding mandatory biometric data collection for immigrants and their US connections — including by taking DNA from both adults and young children.

Lydia's Weekly Lifestyle blog is for today's African girl, so no subject is taboo. My purpose is to share things that may interest today's African girl.

This week's contributors: Lydia, Pépé Pépinière, Titi. This week's subjects: The Accra Office Girl’s Style Survival Guide, How to get rid of our colonial legacy and what's in a name, Simple happiness, Women stronger than man, and How to peel an egg

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The Accra Office Girl’s Style Survival Guide. Let’s be honest—office fashion in Accra isn’t just about looking good. It’s about strategy. Between the blazing sun, surprise downpours, and the icy blast of office AC, your outfit has to work overtime. Thursday: Tradition Meets Trend: Thursday is the perfect day to sprinkle in some cultural pride. Whether it’s a sleek kaba and slit, a short kaftan dress, or even a kente-trimmed blouse, blend tradition with office elegance. Colour crush: Mustard, deep green, or burgundy—those tones eat under natural light. Accessories: Gold hoops, a beaded bracelet, or leather mules. That’s the Ghanaian soft life energy we love. Friday: Casual, Cute & Ready for Chops. Friday is the runway between work and vibes. You’re professional till 4:59 PM, and at 5:00 you’re brunch-ready. Ladies, pull out high-waisted jeans or wide-legged trousers with a tucked-in chiffon blouse. Gents can keep it crisp in chinos and a linen shirt (because we know the guys are reading this too). Style note: Clean sneakers or loafers are totally fair game. Pro move: A signature fragrance completes the look—think fresh, floral, or woody. Survive the Accra Weather (and Still Look Like a 10/10) Carry a shawl or blazer—you’ll need it for that icy office AC. Say no to polyester — it’s basically a sauna in fabric form. Light colours = less sweat, more glow. Always pack a hand fan—yes, the fancy foldable ones count as an accessory now. Corporate life in Accra doesn’t mean dull suits and dark colours. Mix prints, play with fabric, and never be afraid to show a little personality. The key is balance—stay professional, but make it fashion. Because dear office girl, when you look good, you work good—and you’re way too stylish to be melting in polyester. How to get rid of our colonial legacy and what's in a name. Many of us feel “we can do it if only were given the chance”. I feel one may be able to do it if at least one has confidence in oneself. But in Africa we don’t trust ourselves. We want to be white like a white and bleach. We want to have straight hair like a white and either wig or straighten (despite that everyone now knows that straightening uses cancer causing chemicals). We want to wear white man's clothing and only use our own on special occasions. Our religion is foreign and imposed on us (both Christianity and Islam). Some of our elders say that if on Sunday morning on your way to church to meet God you meet a white man you need not go to church again on that day because you already met Him. Our official language is foreign (English) and our laws are written in the language of our formal colonial masters. And are based on our former master's laws. Whilst our judges wear white wigs (and I think looks absolutely ridiculous) and only one third of our people fully speaks and understands English. And to top it all we take foreign names. The most beautiful ones. Prescillia, Scholistica, Petrolina. What's wrong with our own names? Nkandobi means “I have seen it all”, Dufie means “the oldest women in a family”. Mansa is “the third girl”. Kofi means “Friday born”, Obrempong means “a person of importance”. I think that is more fun than the names taken from the bible or from the British Royal house. Let's do our own. The King is dead, exit His Excellency John Dramani Mahama, long live the King, enter His Excellency Kpema So Dramani Mahama.

Simple happiness. I recently wrote that some feel that time with family, time without phone, walking in nature and things like that gives them more happiness than owning luxury items or eating in expensive restaurants. In Africa we often live in crowded conditions, private space comes at a premium that not everyone can afford. I want to mention one additional luxury here. Owning your own toilet and bathroom. Starting the day in a relaxed manner, stooling without having to hurry because others are banging on the door. Sheer luxury.

Women stronger than man. Maybe not, but doctors think so, and at the emergency wards of hospitals and clinics men with exactly the same problem as women get taken in first, and men are prescribed painkillers more often than women with the same ailments. That is what a French study has shown. And there is more: Europeans get priority over Africans. So don't get sick when you visit Europe.....

How to peel an egg. This sounds silly but I am serious. And I am an egg freak, both for chicken eggs and quail eggs. At 70 GHS a crate of eggs you are paying about 2 GHS 35 pesewas for 6-7 grams of protein and there is about the same amount of fat as well, about half of it the “good” fat, whilst beef fat contains more of the “bad” fat. Anyway, that's not the only reason why I love eggs, I love the complicated taste of yolk and soft egg white from fresh eggs and I can experiment an entire weekend to get the right fluffiness for scrambled eggs, or to make a French omelet just rightly cooked. Now for the peeling. If you like boiled eggs you'll have to take the shell off after boiling and often pieces of egg will stick to the shell, especially with fresh eggs. So some suggest you add vinegar to the cooking water, some add oil, some dump the eggs straight into ice cold water after boiling. I've tried all and the only thing which works to my satisfaction is to peel the hot eggs straight after boiling, under running tap water. Though the egg is still hot the cold tap water allows you to peel without burning your fingers. I put a sieve under it to catch the shells so my sink doesn’t get blocked. Try, thank me later.

# Lydia...

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Most people mistake struggle for failure. They assume the fire means they’ve done something wrong — that the heat of adversity proves they’re outside God’s favor. But Scripture paints the opposite picture. The fire is rarely a punishment; it’s a process.

Before we go further, take two minutes to watch this powerful reflection on YouTube: faith-based motivation. It captures the essence of this truth: you are not losing in the fire — you are being refined by it.

When you return here, you’ll understand why even the most painful seasons of life can become sacred ground — and why what feels like breaking might actually be becoming.

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1. The Refining Fire: God’s Blueprint for Strength

If you’ve ever watched a blacksmith forge steel, you know that strength is born in the heat. The metal must be heated, hammered, and cooled repeatedly before it becomes durable enough to bear weight.

The Bible mirrors that exact process in Zechariah 13:9, where God says:

“I will bring the third part through the fire, and refine them as silver is refined, and test them as gold is tested.”

The refining process doesn’t destroy; it defines.

Modern metallurgy confirms that refined metal has tighter molecular bonds and fewer weaknesses after the impurities burn away. Likewise, God’s refining moments burn off pride, fear, and self-reliance — leaving a heart capable of carrying purpose.

As GotQuestions.org notes, God’s testing “reveals what’s already inside and replaces weakness with endurance.” (GotQuestions.org)

So if you’re walking through fire right now, you’re not failing — you’re being fortified.

---

2. Struggle Is the Evidence of Formation

Every meaningful thing you’ve ever built required resistance. Muscles grow through micro-tears. Roots deepen against rocky soil. Faith matures when it must stand against fear.

Research on resilience by the American Psychological Association finds that people who endure hardship with purpose develop “post-adversity growth” — higher emotional intelligence, empathy, and problem-solving ability (APA.org).

Scripture got there first. James 1:3 calls this the “testing that produces perseverance.” In other words, pain is not evidence that you’re off track — it’s proof that you’re on the path toward progress.

The very fact that you’re struggling means you’re still fighting, still alive, and still in motion.

---

3. The Hidden Work of Waiting

We live in a world that glorifies speed — instant downloads, same-day delivery, rapid results. But God’s kingdom doesn’t run on Wi-Fi. It runs on waiting.

Waiting is never wasted. When God delays, He’s not denying; He’s developing.

Look at David: anointed as king in his teens, yet he waited decades to wear the crown. That waiting trained him to shepherd people with humility instead of ego. Or Mary, who carried the promise of the Messiah for nine quiet months before the world saw its fulfillment.

As Christianity Today observes, “Spiritual maturity grows in the soil of delayed gratification.” (ChristianityToday.com)

When you wait, you’re being prepared for blessings that premature delivery could ruin.

---

4. The Silence That Strengthens

One of the hardest lessons of faith is realizing that silence doesn’t mean absence.

Between Malachi and Matthew, there were 400 silent years — no prophets, no new revelation. Yet that silence was the womb of divine timing. The roads of Rome, the Greek language, and the spread of the diaspora all converged during that period, perfectly setting the stage for the Gospel to reach the world.

In your life, silence might mean the same thing. God is arranging what you can’t yet perceive.

As theologian A.W. Tozer wrote, “While it looks like nothing is happening, God is doing everything.”

So the next time heaven feels quiet, stop panicking. The Author of your story never stops writing — He just sometimes pauses between chapters.

---

5. How the Bible Defines Real Success

Our culture defines success by speed, numbers, and visibility. God defines success by obedience, endurance, and faithfulness.

That means showing up when no one notices. Serving when it’s inconvenient. Praying when you don’t feel powerful.

Hebrews 11 lists heroes who “did not receive what was promised” yet still believed. In the world’s eyes, they failed. In God’s eyes, they finished well.

Success in heaven’s dictionary is faithfulness under fire.

So if your dream is delayed or your results are invisible, you may be closer to success than you think.

---

6. The Psychology of Perseverance

From a psychological standpoint, perseverance reshapes the brain’s stress response. According to research published in Frontiers in Psychology, endurance training — emotional or physical — rewires neural pathways to favor long-term focus and calm reasoning under pressure (FrontiersIn.org).

Spiritually, perseverance does the same. It strengthens your mind to reject panic and choose peace.

That’s why Romans 5:4 ties endurance to character, and character to hope. The longer you hold your ground, the clearer your identity in Christ becomes.

---

7. The Theology of Brokenness

Broken things are God’s favorite materials. Every major miracle began with something breaking:

• The alabaster jar shattered before worship filled the room.
• Five loaves broke before thousands were fed.
• Jesus’ body broke before salvation reached humanity.

Brokenness is not the end — it’s the beginning of usefulness. As DesiringGod.org writes, “God never wastes a wound.” (DesiringGod.org)

So if your heart feels cracked open, don’t rush to seal it. Let grace pour through the openings. Healing flows fastest through honesty.

---

8. Why Comparison Is the Enemy of Calling

Nothing kills joy faster than comparing your process to someone else’s highlight reel.

The disciples fell into this trap too. After Jesus restored Peter, Peter immediately asked, “What about John?” Jesus replied, “What is that to you? You follow Me.” (John 21:21-22)

That verse is freedom. It means your timeline, your pain, and your purpose are handcrafted. Stop trying to run another person’s race. Their fire is not your forge.

---

9. Turning Struggle into Strategy

When you shift your perspective from “Why is this happening?” to “What is this teaching me?”, struggle becomes strategy.

Every difficulty hides a lesson. Maybe the setback teaches patience. Maybe the betrayal teaches discernment. Maybe the delay teaches discipline.

Success without struggle breeds arrogance. Struggle without reflection breeds bitterness. But struggle with faith births wisdom.

The key is not to waste your suffering. Mine it for meaning. Journal your journey. Teach what you learn. Bless others with the comfort you’ve received.

---

10. The Hope Hidden in Surrender

Faith isn’t about control; it’s about confidence in the One who controls all things.

When you stop fighting to manage outcomes, you make room for miracles. As Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still and know that I am God.” Stillness isn’t passivity — it’s spiritual posture.

According to Harvard Health Publishing, intentional stillness (like prayer or meditation) lowers heart rate, reduces anxiety, and improves immune response (Harvard.edu).

It’s not just peace for the soul — it’s therapy for the body.

---

11. The Role of Gratitude in the Fire

Gratitude isn’t denial of difficulty; it’s defiance of despair.

When Paul and Silas sang hymns in prison, chains broke — literally. Gratitude reframes circumstances and reclaims spiritual authority.

Each time you thank God in advance for an unseen outcome, you declare that faith outranks fear.

Try this: Every night, write down three ways you saw God’s hand in your day. They don’t need to be dramatic — a kind word, a safe drive, a moment of laughter. Gratitude builds endurance molecule by molecule, thought by thought.

---

12. Finding Purpose in Other People’s Pain

Sometimes your healing accelerates when you help someone else. Serving while struggling reminds you that you’re not alone and that purpose exists even in pain.

Galatians 6:2 says, “Carry each other’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”

When you lift others, your perspective lifts with them. What once felt like punishment begins to feel like privilege — that God trusted you with empathy others don’t yet have.

---

13. How to Recognize Progress in Hidden Places

Progress isn’t always visible. Seeds sprout underground before they ever break the soil.

Maybe your growth looks like setting boundaries, or praying when you used to panic, or forgiving when you used to fight. That’s progress.

Heaven measures success in obedience, not applause. As BibleGateway.com highlights, Jesus often withdrew from crowds to pray — the quiet acts no one sees are the foundation of every visible miracle.

You don’t need a spotlight to shine. You just need consistency.

---

14. The Season Before the Breakthrough

Every major transformation includes a moment that feels unbearable — the night before dawn, the silence before song, the despair before deliverance.

That’s not coincidence. That’s spiritual physics. In creation, God let darkness cover the face of the deep before He spoke light into existence. Darkness always precedes light.

So if your world feels dim, hold your position. Dawn always arrives — and it never runs late.

---

15. The Fire That Forms the Future

The hardest fires forge the holiest futures. When you endure your refining season, you don’t come out weaker — you come out weightier, wiser, and more compassionate.

Peter’s denial didn’t disqualify him; it deepened him. Paul’s prison cell didn’t silence him; it amplified him. Your current fire isn’t your finale; it’s your formation.

As Olford Ministries International reminds us, perseverance “turns trials into testimonies and ordinary believers into extraordinary witnesses.” (Olford.org)

---

Final Reflection: You Are Being Forged, Not Forgotten

If you take nothing else from this article, take this: God does not test to grade you — He tests to grow you.

Every unanswered prayer, every delay, every heartbreak can either become a grave or a garden. The difference lies in whether you surrender it to Him.

When you walk through fire, remember:

• Gold doesn’t fear the flame.
• Diamonds don’t resent the pressure.
• And faith doesn’t fear the fight.

The fire that once frightened you will someday illuminate others through you.

---

Closing Prayer

Father, For everyone standing in the fire, breathe courage into their hearts. Let them know You have not forgotten them. Turn fear into fuel and wounds into wisdom. May every struggle become sacred evidence that You are near — refining, shaping, and strengthening. We trust You, even in the flames. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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🔔 Watch Douglas Vandergraph’s inspiring faith-based videos on YouTube. ☕ Support the ministry: Buy Douglas a Coffee

#FaithInTheFire #FaithMotivation #ChristianInspiration #GodIsWorking #RefinersFire #FaithOverFear #SpiritualGrowth #OvercomingStruggles #TrustGod #Endurance #JesusIsWithYou #HopeInHardTimes #ChristianEncouragement #DouglasVandergraph #FaithBasedMotivation

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Douglas Vandergraph – DV Ministries “Forged in fire. Formed by faith. Focused on hope.”

24 October 2025

On diversion completed today. Its conception was primarily spurred on by Merlin James's Oxbow (2023), which I've been studying for a while—the relationship of its marks and the unique character of its surface to the components of its landscape subject. My own painting is loosely based on miles upon miles of open road on Oregon Route 99W headed toward Dundee from Portland International Airport, the memory of which meshed nicely with a bit of Phoebe Helander's aforementioned talk in which she describes repeating a rose petal form over and over as she fails to capture it in shifting light, its glitching buildup becoming visual information that composes the image indirectly. I think I was also holding similar ideas about visually fading in and out, of constantly oscillating relationships between what has just been seen and what is anticipated to be seen. Of focusing, unfocusing, and optical warping through that process.

The first woman who taught me fear also taught me how to survive it. Though not how to cope.

This is part 2 in an ongoing series exploring how I was made and how sex shaped me for better and for worse.

Read Part 1 Read Part 3 Read Part 4

Prologue

Before you dive in, be aware, this is deeply personal, extremely raw and contains experiences and offensive, triggering or repulsive language. Please proceed with caution if you decide to go on this journey with me.

Names have been changed, otherwise, this is a recounting of real events.

As I stated in part 1, sex has been a part of my reality as long as I can recall a reality. But not in the healthy natural part of human existence way. My understanding was distorted for a long time. And if I’m honest, I still don’t think I have a healthy relationship with it.

In this entry, I explore what would likely be termed a 'found memory'. An experience with an aunt that has never added up and I can only summarize there is something deeper which I cannot explain.

The Rich Relatives

I have always known her as Aunt Dana. My mom called her Lola. She and my grandmother were the only two who used her middle name. Everyone else, my dad included, called her Snake. She loved snakes. She kept a big boa in a glass aquarium in her living room. And a smaller species in the foyer.

I would say it was a cobra. But that seems ludicrous. She did have these two 3 foot cobra statues in her living room flanking the fireplace. So maybe that’s just my imagination.

Aunt Dana, like Mom, was a hell-raiser. The kind of woman who drank and smoked and didn't mind mixing it up. See my previous essay when she and Mom had it out in the front yard. She also, as I would later learn, ran cocaine for a cartel in the area. Specifically, my Uncle Chad did, but Aunt Dana was neck deep. This was the source of their lush lifestyle, not the construction and tile business that gave the family legitimacy.

In any case, her persona was all swagger and confidence.

I don't ever remember feeling super comfortable at my Aunt and Uncle’s house. It was way, way nicer than ANYONE else we knew. The property was packed with all kinds of grown-up toys. Tools. Boats/watercraft. Motorbikes. Lots of guns. Heavy equipment that even today I visualize as overgrown Tonka trucks. And they always drove nice cars. A new Mazda RX-7 and Subaru Brat were Aunt Dana's daily drivers. Uncle Chad drove a shiny white and blue Bronco.

The big A-frame they built still exists here in Dust Meridian. I drove out a few weeks ago as the sun rose and parked across the street. It wasn’t as large or impressive as it is in my memory. Still a very nice home.

I thought about Jenny throwing rocks at her dad's house in Forest Gump and how they later pushed it down with a big tractor.

Real life isn't fiction though. The tall roof and all-glass face of the house sits two acres back from the gate on State Hwy 79, so I'd need a rocket launcher or trebuchet to hit it. If I ever be come a billionaire, I'll fly in on my helicopter and offer them an immoral amount of money, then buy a bulldozer and push it down.

For now, like with Keith's, I just won't ride my bike by there anymore. I hadn’t in decades, no need to start now.

In their big house, there was always what I now know as drug paraphernalia. Not as if I remember them doing drugs around or in front of me, but there were more than a few sleep-overs where the next day I would see the aftermath of drug-parties. Wall splashed with various fluids, spent condoms, empty beer and whiskey bottles everywhere, and mirrored tables (they LOVED mirrored tables) covered in ash, dirty plates and a dusty residue.

Hello, Smut

Another off-putting feature of the home, was my cousin’s showcasing their parent's stash of pornography. I must have been too young to understand it, because it didn't interest me enough to recall it other than to know there were stacks and stacks of magazines in the upstairs closet behind two louvered bifold doors. We had the same doors in our home. I never liked them.

I DO recall the Zap! And FREAK comix collection. They were essentially cartoon pornography. I think my cousins knew I liked to draw and used it as an opportunity for a little grooming, Though they were also very young, so it is likely they were imitating what had been done to them.

While I have no memory of the specifics of what were likely Hustler and Playboy magazines, I'll never forget the outrageous drawing in those underground adult comics. That's what the publishing industry calls them. But they were smut. Huge-breasted anthropomorphic cat-women with bulbous nipples protruding from barely covering blouses, and strangely apparent penises throughout. And the characters were all sort-of grimy, drawn with a heavy ink line and lots of little bits of ink that indicate something being hairy or dirty.

The other kinds of content is fuzzy, but I know it was pornographic. Writing about it still triggers some kind of hormone in me. It's pleasing and disgusts me. How strange a thing. Imagery is powerful, even poorly drawn.

Later I would learn that the majority artist for these was Robert Crumb, and those who would imitate him. I came to love his work and style in other genres, though not the content of those books.

I don't recall my Aunt ever molesting me. I think that's important to state. That even though the trauma clouds the past, there was absolutely a sexual component to life with and around here. All three of my cousins were molested (the eldest who would go on to molest me) by her step-father, uncle Chad. My older cousin, just two years older than me is an absolute basket case today, as are all of her children. Well, those still alive.

Escaping from School

When I was six or seven there was an event that is still clear as day and a recollection that things were never the same after.

My Aunt came to pick me up from grade school. I may have been feeling ill and mom wasn't available, but in my memory, it is a surprise that I got a note to go to the office and my aunt was there saying she was supposed to pick me up.

What child isn't happy to leave school early? So away we went. It was a cold and snowy winter day in Dust Meridian. Back then, snow could last for weeks; now it's gone in hours.

As we pulled away from the school, she asked me if I was hungry. I was a fat kid. Well, I remember being a fat kid. My cousins called me fat. What few photos survived the fire in 1981 don't render me as a fat child. How odd that I remember being so self-conscious of it.

I digress. I said, 'yes! I'm starved'. And aunt Dana took me to McDonalds where I got a cheeseburger happy meal.

Reader, if we're born after 1980, you likely don't realize, McDonald's USED to be a special treat. At least in families of my economic status. So a happy meal in the middle of the day was a HUGE deal.

I had finished the delicious cheeseburger (I still LOVE McDonald's cheeseburgers—though I haven't had one in YEARS) and was working to consume the quickly soggi-fying fries when I heard her ask, “Do you want a DONUT!?'

I MELTED! How could this get ANY BETTER? Happy meal AND a donut in the middle of the day when I was supposed to be bored in social studies? Yes please.

So, Aunt Dana pulls into a parking lot and I hear the little rotary engine start to scream. All of a sudden, we're sliding sideways can and the car's spinning circles. I am pressed against the passenger door worried it will come open and I'd fly into space (we didn't wear seatbelts in those days and I had fallen out of cars TWICE by this point.

She is laughing a guffawing and thinking it's coolest thing in the world. I was scared and wondering when I was going to get my donut. She is VERY amused when I tell her that it was fun, and ask if we were going to the donut shop next.

I recall her brushing my cheek with the back of her hand and telling me I was a sweet child.

What came next is the confusing part.

Thighs and Vaginas

All of sudden, she's driving us out of town to her house on the highway and she has no pants on. Or shoes, or underwear. There is a dark furry patch between her legs that makes me very nervous. Her plaid, pearl snap shirt is open at the navel and parts and drapes to rest on the outside of either hip. I sit quietly, afraid to speak or move. She looks serious as we drive to her home. After we arrive, I remember her helping me out of my puffy orange coat in the foyer adjacent to her dining room and kitchen where she kept the big snake sometimes. The next recollection I have, she reads to me from the comics in the closet.

We are lying in her big bed upstairs with the mirrored tiles on the ceiling. I can see her naked body next to me, long blond hair splashing down over her breasts. I am a black blot in my memory.

I had never seen a naked woman before this.

The Aftermath

At home once, I went down stairs and walked in on my parents having sex on the vinyl couch. But I was bleary-eyed and had no idea what I was seeing. The memory of my aunt left nothing to my ignorant imagination. After then, I knew what all the parts of a grownup girl were.

As I said, I have no recollection of any physical action. My brain worked overtime to put that all away. Just the circumstances and the fact that while I was never fully comfortable in her home, I was terrified after that to be there without my parents. I never spent the night under her roof again.

I hate to dredge this up and maybe it's a young mind completely misreading the situation. It is impossible to know. And maybe pointless, except to try to understand why I am who I am.

The later abuse at the hands of my cousins were integers in the equation that I use to draw the conclusion that she was probably high and out of her mind. I don't think it was this event that led to several years of bedwetting from 6-9, but it certainly was a contributing factor.

Enuresis (technical term for bedwetting) is caused by many factors and isn't about bladder control. Witnessing violence, neglect, prolonged instability, sexual abuse, they can all contribute to an effect a child's nervous system that leaves them apoplectic and in a constant-fight-or-flight state.

The Reckoning

While this is all part of the toolset that built me, I am not bitter. I am sadder that I feel like I never knew my Aunt. Before I would reach ten, my uncle Chad would die of a mysterious heart attack, leaving Aunt Dana to figure out how to run the construction/tile business that was the vehicle for smuggling drugs in from Mexico.

When she lost that tie, she turned to petty theft and armed robbery. I only found this out when she was arrested and sentenced to 20 years for robbing a pharmacy. It wasn't her first, but it was the last one she would rob. In prison, she got clean and got a degree of some kind and when she was released on parole, ended in New Mexico working as an executive assistant for Texas Electric.

Her children's lives (my cousins) were a disaster. They ended up living with and being raised by my grandmother where I suspect they continued to be abused by my uncle. But more on HIM later.

Of the three children, the youngest died about 20 years ago from a heart attack. Indications are that the mysterious cause that killed my uncle, also killed my cousin. My middle cousin is an accomplished nurse in Dust Meridian whom I have not seen in about 15 years. The eldest of the three, Misheen—

She was the next to expose me to sex. I'll dive in on that in Chapter 3.

It's a horrible thing to not be able to know with confidence if someone was an abuser or if I'm just assigning baggage where it doesn't belong. I know with certainty that 8-9 year old me wasn't having sex with his 30 year old Aunt. I'm not a father, but I am fairly confident it isn't physically possible. But when people do drugs, everything is on the table. And a defenseless child certainly is a low-hanging fruit.

I've never asked my mother about this. As I stated previously, we didn't discuss sex, or sex organs. It was like those parts of us didn't exist. It is a strange matter looking back. But Mom was a practicing alcoholic until I was 11 or 12 and Dad was raised by an abusive mother and a string of men with whom she shared a bed. Neither of them had the tools they needed to properly prepare a boy for the world.

I shudder to think what my sisters experienced.

In any case. She is dead. Whatever she was guilty of, she paid the ultimate price for it and lived the kind of life that allowed her to do the things she did. What cruelties must have been inflicted on her to put her in this state?

Recently, when my sister-in-law died, my mother opened up to me about how devastating her own sister's death was. I was so preoccupied with being a young adult I never did more than say 'sorry mom'. But she expressed that it was easily the most difficult loss she has ever experienced.

I state this because you may wonder, 'why don't you discuss this with your parents and clear the air?' 
Either my mom was aware of matters (in periphery if nothing else), and chose to ignore it (VERY COMMON pre-2000's) or she was completely ignorant of everything. The truth is probably somewhere in between. In any case, the wages have been paid, my mother has her own crosses to bear in her old age and as a dutiful son, I cannot add another albatross around her neck.

I have little affection for almost any of my family. This is a great loss to me. But I realize that it is a defensive mechanism. My way of coping with a flood of mistreatment and abuse.

Reflection

My advice to parents is always: NEVER let your child leave your sight. The one's you trust the most are the most likely to violate it most profoundly.

Or, in my case, for-go the privilege of parent-hood. It is an extreme measure, but the only way to guarantee that your little Lorien or Seren will never be confronted with circumstances like this.

Fear taught me to survive; survival taught me to remember.

---

This was easier to write about than chapter one, leaving me filled with disappointment more than anger.

Cope is a work in progress.

---

I got E some dyfne shorts and she looks incredible in them, so good that I felt bad. I felt sad because how am I supposed to feel hot or attractive when she already has such an effect on me but it feels like I can’t do anything similar to her?

si bien entre las ofertas de las diversas franquicias habían productos interesantes y hasta sofisticados quería saber dónde estaba el camino más allá de las apariencias y los coloridos aspectos del folklore

hasta que cayó en cuenta de que no había dejado de caminar

que el camino estaba bajo sus pies la verdad ante sus narices y lo profundo en la claridad de su mente

Eastbound transatlantic travel is a long, exhausting journey. Direct flights to Munich are usually significantly more expensive, and a stopover in Dublin or Reykjavík is also a welcome break from being squeezed into an airplane seat.

i’m sick of staying optimistic all the time. i’m sick of carrying good energy for those who take, take and take from me. i’m sick of entertaining those who check in with me like a show they are flipping through without reciprocating my kindness. and they wonder what’s wrong with me when i’ve stopped giving. when i’ve stopped responding. when i’ve stopped smiling back. 

On MusicBrainz.

I am young enough that most of my parents music collection was in C·D format, altho they did keep a small number of cassettes. I first encountered No Need To Argue in this latter collection, long after my parents had mostly transitioned to exclusively playing from their C·D cabinet. I went many years without listening to it during the iPod era (not having a digital copy), but I returned to it with newfound appreciation once I finally secured a digital version in college. While my parents did have Stars: The Best Of 1992–2002 on C·D, I honestly didn¦t listen to it much; No Need To Argue is The Cranberries¦s best album, and it is best listened to as an album, so the greatest‐hits collection always left me feeling disappointed (not that it doesn¦t have some bangers).

After the cover art, which definitely ranks among the top 20 album covers from the 90s in my opinion, what attracted me most as a kid in the early naughts was the albums opening track, “Ode To My Family”. While it is normally not trivial to cue up individual tracks on cassette, the leading track on the tape is the exception to this rule, and I definitely did rewind and replay it multiple times in my childhood. I was enamoured with the way Dolores O¦Riordan pronounced “mother” and “father”, and I was mystified by the content—my naïve expectations regarding an “ode” were of positive emotions, and yet it confronted me repeatedly with the phrase « Does anyone care? ». At that time in my life, I had been taught to think of swearing as rude and hostile, but the line « Where¦s when I was young, and we didn¦t give a damn? » felt sweet, melancholic, and longing. I didn¦t know how to resolve these tensions as a young child, but I was fascinated by them.

It is incredibly difficult to describe the complicated feelings associated with a break·up in terms that an 8‐year‐old, unable to fathom dating, can understand, but I think O¦Riordan managed it in “I Can¦t Be With You” with « I wanted to be the mother of your child, and now it¦s just farewell », a line which will never be topped despite not even coming from the best break·up song on the album. Motherhood is a concept that artists tend to shy away from, and when artists do depict it, it usually takes on a privatizing manifestation—songs written to or about ones own children, divorced from society at‐large. In contrast, motherhood saturates No Need To Argue unapologetically, socially, and almost virginally: “I Can¦t Be With You” mourns the loss of possibility of being a mother; “The Icicle Melts” empathizes with other mothers after their children suffer violence; “Dreaming My Dreams” portrays the perspective of falling in love with some·one who already has a child. These tracks collectively form the basis of a different kind of ethic than one traditionally finds in punk scenes, and a different conception of love than is typically found in pop. It is profoundly and intimately feminine with·out depending on recourse to either patriarchal tropes or bio·essentialism; this is a fount of motherhood that all women can draw upon, regardless of whether they personally have carried a child to term.

Most of the remaining tracks exhibit a similar fusion of intensely personal emotion and a social awareness, and conscious social positioning, which is broad, feminine, and coalition‐building. Altho some of these songs do make good singles (nothing more needs to be said about “Zombie”), I¦m of the opinion that they all land their hardest in and with the context of the greater whole.

Favourite track: In the context of the album, I think the final track, “No Need To Argue”, is perfect in its minimalism. “Daffodil Lament” stands a bit better on its own.

#AlbumOfTheWeek