![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
It's been an odd and a difficult time, this first month of the new year. I have been feeling bruised (emotionally, though I do have a very swollen stye eye and an eye doctor who has not been very reassuring, using phrases like "dig it out" and "it's going to hurt no matter what") and tired. I cry with slight provocation, and anything involving animals is like to reduce me to uselessness. The world feels full of harsh and unkind, the strong perpetually hurting and trampling the weak. There are pockets of kind and good, but they seem to me, right now, very overwhelmed.
This quote, cadged from Terri Windling's very soothing Myth & Moor blog, speaks loudly to me right now, and indeed, I am finding most solace in writing, reading, movies. (And friends, kitties, and hugs, of course.) Italic emphasis mine.
“There are certain children who are told they are too sensitive, and there are certain adults who believe sensitivity is a problem that can be fixed in the way that crooked teeth can be fixed and made straight. And when these two come together you get a fairytale, a kind of story with hopelessness in it. I believe there is something in these old stories that does what singing does to words. They have transformational capabilities, in the way melody can transform mood. They can't transform your actual situation, but they can transform your experience of it. We don't create a fantasy world to escape reality, we create it to be able to stay. I believe we have always done this, used images to stand and understand what otherwise would be intolerable.” - Lynda Barry (via Gail Arlene de Vos)
This quote, cadged from Terri Windling's very soothing Myth & Moor blog, speaks loudly to me right now, and indeed, I am finding most solace in writing, reading, movies. (And friends, kitties, and hugs, of course.) Italic emphasis mine.
“There are certain children who are told they are too sensitive, and there are certain adults who believe sensitivity is a problem that can be fixed in the way that crooked teeth can be fixed and made straight. And when these two come together you get a fairytale, a kind of story with hopelessness in it. I believe there is something in these old stories that does what singing does to words. They have transformational capabilities, in the way melody can transform mood. They can't transform your actual situation, but they can transform your experience of it. We don't create a fantasy world to escape reality, we create it to be able to stay. I believe we have always done this, used images to stand and understand what otherwise would be intolerable.” - Lynda Barry (via Gail Arlene de Vos)
