Excerpt from "A Field Guide To The North American Yaga":

"The North American Yaga has been known to display some very strange sleeping habits, but is best identified by the trilling sound it makes when slumbering, much like its distant cousin, the Tribble."


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Location: Work
Mission: Adamently not working
Listening: "Kid Fears" ~Indigo Girls


There's been a lot to absorb this morning, and I'm still very much in process. I can't really be more specific than that, but suffice to say that some recent events have been very deeply affecting. A lot of fear and concern and worry which is currently being held in check by the barricades of logic, hope and calm. It's only recently become acceptable and is still not easy for me to leave certain things to the passage of time. However, when one has no choice, it serves nothing to fret. Best to conserve one's energy and move forward with the knowledge that everything unravels itself in the end--and, until given reason to believe otherwise, know that it will work itself out for the best. That said, I move forward.

As an aside that I never intended to go into here, but that I have had thrust into my sphere--I have a very strict sense of propriety where the workplace is involved. This realization strikes me as I sit here and listen to two coworkers of mine (one a consultant and the other a contract employee) discuss religion in the cubicle next to me. Both are theoretically devout Christians of the Protestant variety--a fact that I take no issue with at all, because really, what issue would I take? Religion is such a subjective thing that I often don't even think to wonder what others believe--and often do not ask unless the way seems clear to do so without offending. Thinking about it now, I'd say that that is one of the topics that I reserve the highest level of respect for--the spirituality (or lack thereof) of another individual. Perhaps it's the lingering effect of being raised in a congregation determined to convert others to their way of thinking or perhaps it's simply a facet of the respect I have for others' privacy. There are few people with whom I can have the type of conversation about religion that I prefer--the calm, open-ended, rational exchange of ideas and emotions where the participants are inclusive, thoughtful and respectful of each other--and so I do not have them, as a general rule. Especially not in the workplace.

Others, however, do not have such self-imposed restrictions. This puts me in a bit of an awkward position. I also have deep respect for others' freedom to speak their minds at will and to communicate whenever possible. This is, after all, one of the most important functions in the human condition, in my mind. Without communication, we can have no understanding. Without understanding, we have consistent conflict. With conflict, we have needless confusion and pain. Thus, communication is a Good Thing (tm). But what does one do when the ideas others communicate in their vicinity (not necessarily in an exchange that includes them) cause one confusion and pain? That's the quandry I'm in currently. The conversations taking place around me fluctuate from discussions of scripture (including the "correct" interpretations of said scriptures and a general expression of disdain for those who do not share said interpretations) to mutual proselytizing (Preacher, preach to thyself?). Just now, the conversation turned to the follies of Catholics--and that's when I got riled. Hard to say why that particular bit of righteousness stuck in my craw, but it certainly did. It could stem from the relationship I feel that I have with Mary--which is a long story for another time--or perhaps from the sudden childhood memory of perching in the balcony overlooking the seven thousand that the stadium-sized room could hold, listening to the pastor's voice denounce the "idolators" and "papists" over the PA system.


Even as a little girl, I was amazed at the presumption of a man to speak for God and would often hold my breath for a moment or two after the pastor finished, waiting for an answer of some sort. A testament (no pun intended) to the sheer charisma of Dr. Rogers--I figured if God was going to talk to anyone, he'd talk to him. Something tells me Dr. Rogers probably thought the same thing.