Sunday, August 31, 2025

A Year Of Humility (XXXIV): Thy Kingdom Come

 "Thy Kingdom come,
Thy Will be done,
On earth as it is in Heaven." - Matthew 6:10

The Lord's Prayer is probably one of the earliest prayers I ever learned, outside of a bedroom prayer that we said every night.  It has, over the years, had greater and lesser repetition in my prayer lexicon:  some churches (mainline Protestant) recited it every service, other (non-denominational) occasionally or even not at all, reserving it for sermons on "How to pray like Jesus".  But it remains there, embedded in my mind, a plaque on the wall of my inner sanctum like the 10 Commandments that were posted on either side of the altar in the Episcopalian church of my youth.

"Thy Kingdom Come". That is a phrase that just sort of rolls of the tongue in this prayer, wedged in between the Hallowed-ness of God and our day sustenance and forgiving others, things that would seem to be far more relevant to our daily lives.  And how often have I muttered those words and just thought "Wow, if God's kingdom came and His will would be done, that would just be...swell."

I wonder, do we truly understand what that means?

For myself, God's Will (as revealed in His word, the sermons and writings of His servants, and that occasional nudge of His Spirit) is not something I am always so good at obeying.  I can often treat it as optional or even outright ignore it.  But that is not what Jesus says:  Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.

How is it done in Heaven? Immediately.  Completely. Without the option of holding back or thought of cost to self.

Do I want that?  Do I really want that?

Sure, it is easy enough to think that I would love to see that upon evil, upon the sin in the world, on those who abuse and mock Him.    At some point, says the New Testament, every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord.  Ah, says the lesser part of my self, the vindication.

But what about me in that moment?

Do I confess Him as Lord?  I do, or at least I believe I do to the best of my ability. But then comes the question "Why do you confess me as Lord and do not do what I ask?"  The question was leveled at the Israelites more than once and by Jesus as well (Luke 6:46) ; it should equally be leveled at me.

Am I quick to obey?  Do I pivot as soon as asked?  Do I act selflessly when asked to follow or act?  Or do I try to negotiate with God about what obedience means and how far I have to obey and if a thing can be put off entirely?

Thy will be done, indeed.

Saturday, August 30, 2025

Book Review: Rachel's Folly

Folly (ˈfä-lē):  

- A lack of good sense or normal prudence and insight; 
- Criminally or tragically foolish actions or conduct; 
- A foolish act or idea; 
- An excessive costly or unprofitable undertaking; 
- An often extravagant picturesque building erected to suit a fanciful taste

I have long been a fan of the writings of Patrice Lewis.

I originally found Lewis sometime after I started "getting into" the InterWeb; I cannot remember precisely how long ago but easily over fifteen years now at her website Rural Revolution. I have, over the years, spent time via her writing with her husband Don and her two daughters (Older Daughter and Younger Daughter) and their homesteads (Old and New) in Idaho.  Her writing has always been enjoyable, a sort of mix of advice, explanation, and sharing of the life she and her family have chosen.

That Lewis is a writer was not a surprise:  when I first started reading her, she was both posting on her blog as well as on other sites.  It was through her that I discovered the now defunct National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), the organization that encouraged the idea that anyone could write a novel in 30 days (1500 words a day, in case you were curious).  It was from there that she landed a contract with Harlequin Romance and launched into a novelist career while still working at her and Don's homestead and managing a relocation.  

I purchase her first effort as well as a later one.  They were both enjoyable but - let us be honest - I am likely not the prime target market for Amish Romances.

My interest was piqued, then, when I read on her blog that she was trying a slightly different tack for a novel which did not fit neatly into that category and was going to be self published:  Rachel's Folly.


The protagonist (or at least one of the protagonists) Rachel Tresedor works at a production company which is starting up a Pioneer-style reality show in which a family has to live in mid to late 1800's conditions. As part of the interview process, she is challenged by one of the interviewees - Samuel Finn, a professor whose area of expertise is American pioneer living in the late 19th century - to come experience the pioneer lifestyle for four months on his property in Idaho.  Her boss thinks this is an amazing opportunity; under the twin hammers of her pride of not failing a challenge and a possible promotion, she heads to Idaho to effectively travel back in time.

Finn's property is a sort of living history experiment:  he lives as a 19th century pioneer would with mostly 19th century technologies (a modern Amish cook stove being a notable exception) and to the best of his ability provides for himself as much as possible.  Tresedor is thrown into this mix:  donning a prairie dress, she stumbles into learning to live in the 19th century.  She learns to cook and bake using a wood stove.  She learns to milk a cow.  She learns to harvest a garden and cut wood.  She visits the nearest neighbor, an older widow named Bernadette who offers her practical skills and sage wisdom on both living on the edges of civilization and about life.

Behind the scenes, of course, is a budding attraction between Rachel and Samuel.  Could she stay? Will they fall in love?  Or will she head back to modern civilization, largely untouched by her experience except the novelty of it?

Well, of course I am not going to reveal the ending.  You will need to read the book for that conclusion.

---
As I mentioned before, I have been a long time reader (happily so) of Lewis, so I cannot give a truly unbiased review of the book. That said, in terms of fiction and readability (compared to other fiction), it stands up.

The characters are well developed, with motivations and personalities and agendas in place.  If they are a sort of "trope" of the hard driving female executive and eccentric college professor, they are very well written ones and hardly seem stale.  The background characters that are there are equally well fleshed out.  There was never a time that I said "That is not something a reasonable person would do".

Descriptions of living in the 19th Century are done in an interesting combination of intense detailed explanations (making a pie crust, starting a wood cookstove, milking a cow, cutting a log using a bucksaw) and generalized descriptions (making cheese, gardening, activity in a barn). The detailed descriptions are not surprising to me, as these all reflect tasks Lewis has written about in the past.  And I like the mix of specific and detailed; too often books of this kind can get bogged down in detailed descriptions of everything which both demonstrate the author's knowledge of arcane skills and fail to move the story forward.

The descriptions of the land, the cabin they live in, the property they are working on - again, all well done and reflective of the fact that Lewis has lived for years in this neck of the woods.  If the setting for Rachel's Folly is not a real place, it should be.

---
Whenever I finish a New-To-Me fiction book, I like to consider three questions:

1)  Would I read it again?
2)  Does it speak to issues or spark thoughts that are applicable to my life?
3)  Will I miss these characters?

1)  Would I read it again? 

A resounding "Yes".  At 296 pages (print edition), it is an easy read and enjoyable read, just light enough that one need not pay too much attention yet deep enough that there is a great deal to consider.

2)  Does it speak to issues or spark thoughts that are applicable to my life? 

Also a resounding "Yes".  Besides just the story of "Eccentric Man teaches Modern Woman about life 150 years while each sorts out their feelings about things and each other", the book touches on issues like the fragility of modern living, sustainability, committing to goals.  Some quotes:

"Many (the pioneers) wanted free land, some wanted gold, some wanted to escape a shady past...but they were all united by the common inability to drive to the drugstore for aspirin, or run down to the nearest convenience store for a quart of milk.  It's this inability to go to outside sources to solve minor problems that fascinates me." (Samuel Finn)

"He (Samuel) nodded.  'I thought so. But here, I make everything. I grow, or raise, or till, or preserve, or create, or build. Everything.  And that, 'he concluded, 'is the most powerful pull a man can feel for what he does.'"

"'We live in a modern society that's nothing but rules and regulations. The longer I live out here, the more I resist the thought of returning to civilization and all those societal expectations.'  He gazed out at the damp, quiet woods. 'I like living by my own terms', he concluded." (Samuel Finn)

"Too much stuff becomes little more than clutter.  Junk.  You said you were interested in environmental issues.  Don't you think a resistance to shopping is one of the best places to start?" (Bernadette, Samuel's neighbor)

"'Won't that be nice. It means you'll be able to work for longer hours at a job you probably like but may not feel passionate about.  But you'll make more money, whoo hoo.  That way you can buy more...what did you call it?  Stuff.  Is that how you want your life to unfold?'

She scowled at him.  'It's how life unfolds for millions of people, buster.'

Samuel gave a little flick of his fishing rod.  'Then maybe you should challenge the prevailing assumption of what life should be and start considering what life can be.'"

Suffice it to say, there is enough for anyone to chew on in this pages.

3) Will I miss these characters?

One of the saddest things for a reader is one comes to the end of a book and realizes that there is either no sequel or the status of the sequel is unknown (I have commented before that this same experience happened for me with David Drake's The Forlorn Hope).  We will never meet these characters again, we will never hear them (in our mind), we will not see their new undertakings.  That can tinge with sorrow the happiest ending.

And honestly, I will miss Samuel and Rachel.  They seemed like the sort of people I would like to know  and I would wish that I could read more of what happens next (instead, of course, of revisiting what happened before).  Here is hoping a sequel is in order.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I strongly recommend this book.  Yes, it is an enjoyable read - and for a romance, not too overly "romantic" for those of us that are not into it.  But its ideas and characters make it something that will make the reader think in turn - something, arguably, every author hope for.

(Post Script:  Rachel's Folly, as self described on the back cover, is her going on this adventure.   As noted above, there are at least five definitions to the word folly. I would argue any one of them will work for the title, depending on how one's interprets the outcome.)

Friday, August 29, 2025

Essentialism (XXX): Execute: Be

 "Beware the barrenness of a busy life" - Socrates

McKeown starts this chapter with story of Mahatma Gandhi, a man who started his adult life thinking that he would become a barrister and ended his life pursing the liberation of the oppressed, ultimately seeing the independence of India.  Gandhi, suggest McKeown, the essence of the Essentialist life: having found his purpose, he removed everything that did not serve it, a process he called "reducing himself to zero".  He wove cloth and wore it.  He avoided all newspapers as "their contents only added non-essential confusion to his life."  He simplified his diet.  He went days without speaking.  At his death, he owned less than ten things.  He never - intentionally - held political office, yet became the Father of his Nation.

It is impossible, suggests McKeown, to argue with the statement that Gandhi lived a life that mattered.

We are all not Gandhi - nor should we be.  But, McKeown suggests, we can purge of our lives of the non-essentials and live the way of an Essentialist, each in our own way.

There are two ways of thinking about Essentialism. The first is something that we practice occasionally, something we try to fit into our lives as yet another thing that we have to "pack in".  The second is to think of it as something that we are, something that is intrinsic to us.

Essentialism finds its itself embedded in many spiritual and religious traditions. Whether as founders of religion or as reformers, the call to the essentials of a faith and its cousin, simplicity, are in almost every major religious tradition,  And this extends to philosophers and men and women of all walks of life:  anyone can embrace the way of the Essentialist.

Like many things in life, McKeown suggests that the Non-essentialist runs the risk of minoring in the majors.  The Non-essentialist has non-essentials at their core; they can never - without reversing the two - reach the essentials on a long term basis:


In contras, the Essentialist has identified their Essentials and have them at the core:


Over time, then, the Essentialist continues to make the essentials more of their core and the non-essentials less:



(Author's note:  If this looks a lot like Stephen Covey's Circle of Control, you would not be wrong.)

As we focus on our Essentials, we will encounter new opportunities and options - which themselves can lead us astray from our main purpose.  But if we know our essentials - if we are Essentialists - we will have the clarity to recognize which of those opportunities and options match with our interests, talents, and purpose.

By continuing to focus on the Essentials - by making the decisions every day to focus on those things that are our Essentials (and these will be different for every person), we slowly transform ourselves into an Essentialist. We learn to do less and less - so that we can do more.

---
Application:

The quote from Socrates resonates with me, especially in an age given to busy-ness and effort and a life that can be 24/7/365 if we let it.  We can plan out every minute of every day and still accomplish nothing of value.

One of the "lectures" that I give as part of "Sage Advice" portion of my job to those entering the industry is how my career over the past 25+ years has been reduced to documents being stored away (once upon a time in bankers boxes in storage facilities, now mostly online storage), waiting for shredding and/or deletion.  Hours, days, weeks, months even years spent on projects that were super critical at the time and were presented as needing my total sacrifice - all slowly drifting away as recycled paper and re-opened memory.

Does that cover everything?  Of course not.  There were plenty of things that I did that were outside of that venue (or even in it) that were essential, times with family and friends, of service and enjoyment, of things that lasted beyond the moment themselves.

There were some. There could have been more.

My struggle has not so much been having the non-essential and essential reversed in my core, it has been my unwillingness to surrender the non-essentials to the more essential because...reasons.  Choice was seen as limiting, not expanding my ability to do more through less.  Sometimes choosing the good was confused with choosing the best.

Now I am trying to always ask:  What is truly essential?

Thursday, August 28, 2025

The Collapse CCII: White Out

 09 December 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

Snow again.

By snow I mean a sheet of snowfall so constant and so white that it completely blanks out any attempt to see more than a few feet. It roared in last night, borne on a wind that howled not so much with the souls of the damned as much as the souls of civilizations that have disappeared.

Going outside is useless beyond a few feet. I have tied my ropes to the outhouse and green house as I do every Winter; this time I do not know that I could make it back without them. I also essayed getting out to try and check on others, but gave up within twenty feet of the house; I had no idea if I could find my way back.

There will be not much of anything done until this blows over.

I have endeavored to keep the front door clear and enough around the Cabin that I can use a rake to pull the snow off from time to time, and have tried (not very successfully) to clear paths to the outhouse and greenhouse. To both; I have tried to not enter the greenhouse at all to preserve whatever residual warmth may be left. This has left me frozen, sweaty, and hot at one or more points during this exercise.

On the way to the outhouse one can see the beehives, heavily wrapped for Winter and standing like lone sentinel rocks in a bay. They, too, need their snow occasionally removed.

Heavy snow was not a thing I had ever seen growing up. You remember as well as I do our childhood, with its occasional few inches or even foot of snow that was enough to slide on or perhaps coax a small snowman out of, snow that was good for a day or two and then melted to slush, retreating to the shadowed corners of yard and house.

Not now, Lucilius, not now.

I have driven Pompeia Paulina to distraction with my pacing and worrying to the point that she actually ordered me to sit - quietly – for 20 minutes to give her some peace. I sat of course – never before have I seen such a side eye from my wife – but the worrying did not stop.

Has snow happened here? Of course it does; every year. Sometimes heavy snow. And even with power outages at times. But between that snow and those power outages were things like power that came back on and places one could go to restock and refuel. There is none of that now, of course.

And nothing to be done for it.

I write this, bundled up even with the stove radiating heat. In a bit I will go back out, clear the paths again, pull what snow I can down, bring in more of the wood – and we will hunker down. Again.

Outside, I can hear the howl of the wind. It is ridiculous to think that I can hear the snow borne on the wind as it crashes into the house or piles on the ground, but I swear I do.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

Wednesday, August 27, 2025

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: Singapore Airport (II)

 One of several ponds with fish in the aiport:


Their indoor airport carts had light bars that showed how long and wide the cart would be to passers by.  Why is this not a common thing?



Pedal stations to power phone or laptop recharge:


There are also several different indoor gardens:












Tuesday, August 26, 2025

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: Singapore Airport (I)

 The Singapore Changi Airport is approximately 25 square kilometers (9.7 square miles) and is rated as the 15th busiest airport in the world, handling 67.7 million passengers in 2024.  It is also the recipient of numerous "Best Airport" awards.

Looking outside. Outside of Costa Rica, I do not think I have ever been in a tropical country.


It has a huge amount of shopping, as you might imagine.



And a butterfly garden!











Monday, August 25, 2025

A And J At Home

The Ravishing Mrs. TB is currently staying with her mother as she has had her second knee surgery (which is going splendidly).  Fortunately for me, I have roommates to come home to in her absence:


You may wonder about A's shaved side.  He had a growth that had to be removed.




Why fill a bookshelf with books when a cat needs a place to read?