Want to join in? Respond to our weekly writing prompts, open to everyone.
Want to join in? Respond to our weekly writing prompts, open to everyone.
from
The happy place
I am now back from a special norweigan Christmas dinner for family and relatives, and I was on the fringe of that.
The outskirts
I drank aquavit and had this wonderful time of just eating and drinking with people who didn’t really care about me, but still I got all of this food and drink!!
I could just sit there and feel the mist rising with each aquavit and it felt like this was a gateway to Avalon.
from
Roscoe's Quick Notes
Just a quick note to let everyone know that I've been called to an out-of-town wedding and will be away from my computers for maybe 5 days. (I will have my phone and I'll listen in when I can.)
Don't break the Internet while I'm gone. Mmmmkay?
The adventure continues.
from Justawomentryingtoochange
I felt like I was smacked in the face a moment of, where the fuck did this year ago... I sat outside with a cup of tea in one hand and a cigarette in the other, chatting away to my sister as we do our pop outside for a quick smoke and chat routine. My sister was excited as she had been invited to a Boxing day get together with her friends. I'd carried on with the chit chat and had asked her who the invite was from and all that Jazz, and she mentioned the host's name, and it clicked in my mind, “I swear you were telling me you had told me you guys had fallen out over some rubbish”. Sister responded, “Ye, that was a year ago in fact, it was exactly a year ago we fell out but we are alright now”. I paused as a moment of disbelief shot over me. “Hold on a minute, that was a year ago? It feels like you told me that two minutes ago”. “Oh shit, you also mean that it's been a year since I handed in my notice at that shitty pub I worked at”. Holy shit balls.... How has this year gone so fast?? What have I done with myself? I'm unemployed again and have only just started my business that still doesn't make me wanna get out of bed. What the actual fuck... it really goes that quick, and I can honestly say I didn't live this year. I spent most of it curled up in a ball of fear, watching everybody on the phone do what I wish I could do. It felt like god/universe/mother source had slapped me over the face with a HAHA moment. Do I really want to live another year inside my mother's house wishing I had a better life, or am I actually going to make it happen? I can't bear the thought of staying like this. There is so much I want to do, so much I want to see... I want to finally become the version of me that stops giving a fuck about what people think, finally the version who doesn't try to squeeze and fit herself into boxes that can't hold her, I want to travel, I want to take my daughter across the world and most of all I want to show her what's fucking possible because this life IS NOT MY LIFE! I've been living for everybody else, constantly trying to get people to like me erghhhh so boring and cringe. I can't bear the thought of my daughter growing up and thinking this is as good as it gets. Fuck that, so here's to me breaking free and living this year to come like it's my fucking last. I know it's not going to be easy, but I'm sure it's much easier than this pain of staying the same. Let's just put this in perspective... just think back to when you were a kid playing around or doing whatever you did, and then just think to now... where the fuck did that go? I used to be a kid wishing my life away as quickly as possible to become an adult, and now I'm an adult wishing I had more time. THE TIME IS NOW. We can't keep waiting for the perfect moment or the ideal person to come and rescue us. WE HAVE TO START NOW. I mean, go for your fucking dreams, make them as big as possible, and please stop waiting, and for god's sake, don't do another year thinking about it. Your higher self is cheering you on, and so is that little girl waiting on you to see what's possible.
from
The happy place
Once or twice we come across something which alters our course of action or way of seeing the world in profound ways; like having something chafing inside pointed out more clearly than we are able ourselves at the time.
Do you know this? Like some people says this book or that philosopher, — maybe Adler — did phrase something true enough — like a North Star or something … Could’ve been some song too. Just some single great work of art or idea which altered the course of your own life in a profound way.
I thought of this because I myself have a strong memory of being a travelling consultant, visiting most of Europe during my ceaseless travels.
I remember distinctly the feeling of waking up, and for two disoriented seconds, the feeling of not knowing where I am and then: feeling the heart sink by the realisation of being in some hotel, (like in Neon Genesis Evangelion: ”unfamiliar ceiling”), maybe in Gothenburg, then knowing maybe, that although you’ve a fever, you’d better just deliver the hours of work the client is due (or you’ll have to come back later), even if you fall asleep sitting by his screen.
And then in the evening: at some pub eating all alone with a beer and a book until finally retiring at the hotel, laptop in lap, planning the next day…
This might sound like a bit of self pity and what if it is? I was paying for this job with a currency I didn’t have, so to speak. I wasn’t cut out for this lifestyle (I don’t like travelling, or being alone).
(I am adventurous only in my imagination.)
So there I was then, having arrived at home late one Friday evening. Straight I went from airport to sofa and it felt so right being in this sofa having my wife nearby. At peace.
In this state of mind I did watch Six Days, Seven Nights (1998) in which a successful magazine editor Robin Monroe played by Anne Heche accidentally gets stranded on an island with the handsome older man Harrison Ford.
Unable to reach her destination, which was her career calling to her, (a photo shoot), she finds a truer love and a more down to earth approach to life; for whose sake was she building this career?
Instead a new life opened up to her, far removed from the pulsing New York success and status; living in a bungalow, making a living, maybe, as his co-pilot.
Finding a deep mature love
Maybe she started her family there?
This movie did pop my own bubble of wanting to climb some career ladder or something; I was living the dream of someone else
Walking a path of a career to a destination I didn’t want, reaching for a status I didn’t value.
Just because I was flattered that they wanted me in the first place.
And like that, just like Robin in the movie, I too made up my mind
Rich with this new insight
In the apartment which already contained everything I wanted: my wife, the sofa: that future.
Such is the power of a great work of art, I think.
from
Noisy Deadlines
I have been using Linux on my older ASUS laptop for roughly four days now, and I didn’t even need to open Windows for anything. I tested three distros in the meantime, but I mostly used Ubuntu 25.10 to perform tests on all the activities I normally do on Windows, to see if I could make them work.
sudo apt install nemo gives me just what I need (like resizing the sidebar).

By now my parishioners know that I love to share little historical anecdotes from time to time. Like my twice-annual explanation for why we might wear pink rose vestments in Advent and Lent. Or my contention that the conception of Jesus happened during the events celebrated during the Feast of the Visitation and not the Anunciation (the Magnificat being the outward sign that the Holy Spirit had filled Saint Mary). One such anecdote involves a beloved hymn heard during the Christmas shopping season: “Good King Wenceslas,” the brass melody an easy short-hand for demonstrating on film that it is Christmastime (the first shot of the toy store in Home Alone 2 comes to mind). And of course this.
“Good King Wenceslas” is, technically, not a Christmas hymn. It is, properly, a hymn for Stephensmas (to use the old English term for the Feast of Saint Stephen the Martyr). The hymn itself recounts the story of a beloved and saintly king who, on “the Feast of Stephen,” one bitterly cold and snow-laden, braved the elements to bring fuel and supplies to a poor man. The tune, which sounds like it was generated in a lab to be a Christmas carol, was actually written for a song meant to be sung at Easter.
Anyway, this is an overlong introduction to talk about Saint Stephen, whose feast day is today and marks the first of the daily commemorations for the first week of Christmas, through the Feast of the Holy Name (which coincides with our New Years celebrations in the Western Christian tradition). Saint Stephen is the “protomartyr,” the first Christian to be executed for the crime of being Christian. He was among the first deacons in the church (called alongside Saint Philip, among others) and was stoned to death after testifying about Jesus before the high council of Jewish religious leaders (also known as the Sanhedrin).
Different church traditions hold to different dates to commemorate Saint Stephen. In Western traditions (of which the Episcopal Church is part) the custom has been to commemorate him on the day after Christmas, perhaps as a means to mark that his death was a kind of birth itself, the Christian faith beginning to coalesce into a definable movement of its own and not simply a movement happening only within Judaism. Stephen’s death inspires a radicalized rabbi named Saul of Tarsus to begin a process of systemic elimination of “the Way” (as Christians were known back then), thus fostering closer ties among the nascent Christian movement as well as distance between them and their own people (remember, at this time all Christians were Jews). Further, the death of Saint Stephen elucidated our understanding of the Incarnation—not only is Christ enfleshed among and within us, but our flesh is subject to the same violence and suffering experienced by Jesus. The broken flesh and shed blood of the eucharistic bread and wine prefigure our own breaking and shedding-of-blood as well as that of Christ Jesus. As the old Augustinian fraction anthem puts it: “Behold the mystery of your salvation laid out for you; behold what you are, become what you receive.”
This all sets a tone for us Christian that we are often quick to forget: a faith that holds to the Incarnation hardly results in a faith that has guarantees of wealth and comfort. Indeed, the Incarnation expects that we be willing to give up creature comforts and conveniences (said by a Christian who lives quite comfortably in comparison to much of the world).
To invite the Incarnate God into our midst is to invite suffering and rejection.
All of the saints commemorated during these next several days speak to that fact: Saint John the Evangelist, the Holy Innocents, Saint Thomas a Becket. We don’t have official commemorations on the 30th, but we will be exploring the life of Saint Anysia of Thessalonica, a saint in Eastern Christianity that is remembered on that day. These are all either martyrs or exiles, rejected and killed because they accepted that God was born in a manger and that He chose to save us from ourselves.
And much of this begins with Stephen. His testimony in Acts 7 is confrontational, but the major point he tries to make is that God is not relegated to a resplendent temple in Jerusalem. Rather, God has chosen His home among us, among the things He has made. We have God in our midst, but those who claim religious authority tend to miss that fact and use violence to silence those who make that point. These were, in effect, Stephen’s last words before irony was lost and he was killed with rocks.
As we live in the liminal time between Christmas and New Years, spending time with family and friends and perhaps even exchanging gifts still, we would do well to remember that there are those huddled together because bombs are dropping on them in Ukraine, or militants are hunting them in Nigeria or Sudan, or they are cold and starving in Gaza. They are hiding from ICE, or bound together in an internment facility. Such was Stephen, in a jail cell until his interrogation, the day after Christmas.
God came to us incarnate. That incarnation happened among those who suffer. And even in the midst of that suffering, seeing the faces of those who hate us, we might be able to join Saint Stephen and say:
Look! I can see heaven on display and the Human One standing at God’s right side! Lord Jesus, accept my life! Lord, don’t hold this sin against them!
... The Rev. Charles Browning II is the rector of Saint Mary’s Episcopal Church in Honolulu, Hawai’i. He is a husband, father, surfer, and frequent over-thinker. Follow him on Mastodon and Pixelfed.
from acererak
I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.
A frozen bubble, that's all I can think to describe it.
As I walk around, I let my fingers glide over its smooth surface.
Looking through, I can see a warmth, but just enough that I know im also seeing through the structure.
Its tall, so that as I let my mind wander, my hands travel up and travel down, walking and playing towards its end.
But its a circle, so it has none, until my fingers flinch and withdraw
My blood illuminating a small indent, flowing, thinning into spirals and sanguine highlights
The door is before me, calmly pulsing with my blood outline.
“So” I say to the door “You're a hungry one”
It must have heard, or maybe it was ready to open. I don't know, but it did.
Within, the glass, was a rainbow sun. Rippling with spiking shards of fractured screaming geometry.
The tiny, sharp star, was aglow of anguish made tempered glass Erupting and falling into itself like prism
Like a focus and a distraction A god of intricate deadly planning
I had opened its door, scared I opened my eyes
The words hung in my ears as close as my thudding heartbeats
“I'm starving”
#poetry #doors
from acererak
Even when the night was clear the clouds hung just on edge as if waiting for the starlight to lose humility, just enough and give them allowance to this a most special night.
But so far so well.
The moonlight was shining The starlight was glamouring The winter chill had finally dimmed
A quiet, hush flung itself across the chilled lake.
As, the smallest of creatures began Like sparks from waxing of a candle flame Made their ways From the inside places, cold places, of the oldness of the world.
Shyly at first they bleed out onto the lake Then more, they grew, finally confident in their steps.
The flowed onto the lake, taking their places.
So began a dance, that no one saw underneath the winter solstice moon.
#poem #poetry