Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" My three readers will remember that I commended my daughter The Heir to the not-very-bored Goddess Freya a few weeks ago. The Heir decided to spend her summer abroad, studying architecture in Norway. She is residing at the University of Oslo.
This morning, The Heir went to the National Museum in Oslo to view Edvard Munch's paintings. Having done that, she went downtown to shop at a thrift store she found. While she was in the store, she heard a very loud explosion. She noticed that the people working in the shop looked scared. But most people went on shopping. Heir bought something and went outside.
The thrift store's door had been open when the explosion occurred. Heir noticed that other stores had shattered glass lying in the street. She saw many people talking frantically on their cell phones, people running toward something on fire in the distance -- and then she heard something she hadn't heard since arriving in Norway: police sirens. Lots of them.
Heir began to panic, because all the people around her were panicking too. But she got herself to an elevated train and headed back to the university. It was there that she discovered that Oslo's government buildings had been bombed. She was hunkered down in the dorm with her fellow students when a crazy gunman started shooting down kids at a summer camp on an offshore island.
The worst violence on Norwegian soil since WWII.
I had my tongue firmly planted in my cheek when I asked Freya to look out for The Heir. And for her first four weeks in Oslo, Heir pretty much ran the city by herself. She said she never even saw a policeman, and she never felt endangered in any neighborhood.
Freya, Your people are baffled. Not that Norwegians aren't tough ... they are. But until now they haven't exactly been consumed with anxiety about terrorist attacks. This will change now. Heir might have seen an end of an era in her previous four weeks in Oslo.
Prayers of good will to the praise and worship team of Odin, Freya, Thor, and Loki. And thank goodness my Heir is all right!
Showing posts with label Heir. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heir. Show all posts
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" No time to tarry today -- just want to pass along some good news!
I've been declined an interview by a Goddess.
Well, not exactly declined, but postponed. Postponed because She is too busy with Her praise and worship team!
The Goddess in question is Freya, and I wanted to draw her attention to the fact that my daughter The Heir is summering in Her domain. When I called Freya for an interview, she said she will pencil me in for Monday (maybe), but she's especially busy just now.
I'm pretty doggone clueless about Freya's praise and worship, although I once drank a toast to her from a horn of mead. It's great to know that there are modern humans out there who not only love her but are treating her like a Goddess and not just a "myth."
I must fly now. Hopefully Freya and I will get together shortly. In the meantime, I had better get down the spelling of her following. I never do get it right without looking it up. Here's a cold read: Asratu. Goddess, I know that isn't correct, and she'll be offended if I mess up. So help me out here! Tell me what you know.
I've been declined an interview by a Goddess.
Well, not exactly declined, but postponed. Postponed because She is too busy with Her praise and worship team!
The Goddess in question is Freya, and I wanted to draw her attention to the fact that my daughter The Heir is summering in Her domain. When I called Freya for an interview, she said she will pencil me in for Monday (maybe), but she's especially busy just now.
I'm pretty doggone clueless about Freya's praise and worship, although I once drank a toast to her from a horn of mead. It's great to know that there are modern humans out there who not only love her but are treating her like a Goddess and not just a "myth."
I must fly now. Hopefully Freya and I will get together shortly. In the meantime, I had better get down the spelling of her following. I never do get it right without looking it up. Here's a cold read: Asratu. Goddess, I know that isn't correct, and she'll be offended if I mess up. So help me out here! Tell me what you know.
My daughter The Heir doesn't like to be featured on "The Gods Are Bored," so I don't say much about her. One thing I will say is this: If it's weird, and it's on YouTube, she will find it. The snippet below is priceless ... thanks, Heir!
How I Spent Judgment Day: A Message of Hope for Harold Campling and His Flock
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Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" If you are a depressed follower of Harold Camping, having wandered here bleary-eyed and disappointed, well ... I'm disappointed too! However, it's time to move on.
Here's a little parable about organized religion. I'll call it "The Parable of the Busy Zoo."
My daughter The Heir and I agreed to meet some cosplay folks at the Philadelphia Zoo on Saturday. The arrangements were all made over Facebook.
It rained all week long here in the Delaware Valley, but on Saturday morning there wasn't a cloud in the sky (or a zombie in the backyard). When I say "beautiful day," I feel this is scant praise for the weather. If you weren't standing directly in the bright sunshine, the temperatures were perfect. And everything was moist and verdant from all that rain.
Heir and I got a late start for our noon meet-up at the zoo. At 11:45 we were stuck in traffic on the Schuykill Expressway -- all of it what they call "zoo traffic," meaning that the backup was all created by folks trying to get off the highway at the zoo exit.
Eventually we did get off the highway and into the realms of the zoo. The whole area was packed with people. All the parking lots for the zoo were filled. A pedestrian quite kindly told us that our best bet was to park in Fairmount Park, which is across the Schuykill River from the zoo.
Heir and I were lucky to find a spot for my sweet little economy car, deep inside the park. We set out on a long trek toward the zoo, in our semi-cosplay outfits. This trek included practically having to scale a cliff to get up to the bridge that would take us back across the river to our destination.
It was while we were crossing the bridge that Heir informed me she didn't have a cell phone number for the people we were supposed to meet.
When we finally got to the gates of the zoo, about 60 minutes late, there was a huge, long line for tickets. The place was packed.
Now, I never have a bad time at the zoo, because the Philadelphia Zoo has a pair of Andean condors, and I just sit by their flight cage for two hours. But Heir likes the small mammals. I said to her, "You know what? If you try to see the pygmy marmosets in this crowd, the only thing you'll see is other people also trying to see the pygmy marmosets."
Heir readily agreed to turn back, especially since we didn't see any of the cosplayers.
As we made our way back across the bridge, we did run into some of the cosplay people. They (also late) were headed for the zoo. And they were lavishly attired. Spare and I made our apologies and continued on our way. We weren't in their league when it came to costumes, and I was still thinking about the crowd in the zoo and the cost of getting inside.
Heir was a little angry at me for more or less calling the shots and giving up so easily, especially when we quite serendipitously ran into the very people we would have been looking for. (Trust me, they would have been easy to find, by sight, no matter how crowded the zoo was!) But by that time I didn't care what she thought, because I was heeding the call of the bored gods.
We re-traversed the cliff, crossed busy Kelly Drive, and found ourselves along the banks of the river. It was not a Regatta day, but plenty of people were plying crew boats in the water, and there were joggers, bikers, walkers, and nature-lovers everywhere. Heir and I found a bench in the shade of a secluded garden that overlooked the river. We talked and talked as the pretty boats slid by and all sorts of people passed us in their own pursuits.
After awhile I remembered that it was Judgment Day. And by golly, there was something I'd never done that I always wanted to do, and by golly, I was right there ready to do it!
I'd never walked along Boathouse Row.
So Heir and I did it.
Boathouse Row is pretty famous. It's a serious of a dozen or so boat-storage houses, dating to the mid-1800s, that sit along the river and serve as host destinations for Regatta teams. You can see Boathouse Row from the freeway, and I'd often looked at it with longing as I inched by on the other side of the river.
Wow, those houses are gorgeous up close! It's like France or something. Each one has a personality, and the whole avenue where they sit is tree-lined and shady, with plenty of space for strolling. At the end of the row there's a little sandwich shop where Heir and I used our zoo money to get lunch and water.
As we ate, I said to Heir, "Hey, we're right by the Waterworks! I've always wanted to see that too!"
So we walked on. We explored the Waterworks, watched the river spill over a dam, and then ... right above us on the cliff ... Philadelphia's Museum of Art!
It was way too late to go into the museum, but we scaled the cliff and stood at a gazebo, staring out at the vast distance we had walked, the Schuykill River, the beginnings of a wedding at the Waterworks, the racing boats ... and off on the horizon, the hot air balloon marking the environs of the zoo. Behind us the modern skyscrapers of Philadelphia rose shining in the sun.
I said, "It doesn't get better than this." It felt so good to be out in the air, uncrowded and unfettered.
Then we walked back to the car, passing yet another wedding-in-progress. Happy the brides that the sun shines on!
The moral of this parable: Follow not your prescribed plans, but your heart instead. Don't be led by people. Take the hands of the gods and ramble the less-trodden path.
For those who live by the book and by the charismatic exhortations of fellow mortals are often led astray. But those who stand in the presence of the bored gods, with nothing between themselves and the Divine, will find peace in the apparent world -- and peace beyond the veil.
Busy god letting you down? Listen: there are other singers in other rooms. How sweet they sound.
Here's a little parable about organized religion. I'll call it "The Parable of the Busy Zoo."
My daughter The Heir and I agreed to meet some cosplay folks at the Philadelphia Zoo on Saturday. The arrangements were all made over Facebook.
It rained all week long here in the Delaware Valley, but on Saturday morning there wasn't a cloud in the sky (or a zombie in the backyard). When I say "beautiful day," I feel this is scant praise for the weather. If you weren't standing directly in the bright sunshine, the temperatures were perfect. And everything was moist and verdant from all that rain.
Heir and I got a late start for our noon meet-up at the zoo. At 11:45 we were stuck in traffic on the Schuykill Expressway -- all of it what they call "zoo traffic," meaning that the backup was all created by folks trying to get off the highway at the zoo exit.
Eventually we did get off the highway and into the realms of the zoo. The whole area was packed with people. All the parking lots for the zoo were filled. A pedestrian quite kindly told us that our best bet was to park in Fairmount Park, which is across the Schuykill River from the zoo.
Heir and I were lucky to find a spot for my sweet little economy car, deep inside the park. We set out on a long trek toward the zoo, in our semi-cosplay outfits. This trek included practically having to scale a cliff to get up to the bridge that would take us back across the river to our destination.
It was while we were crossing the bridge that Heir informed me she didn't have a cell phone number for the people we were supposed to meet.
When we finally got to the gates of the zoo, about 60 minutes late, there was a huge, long line for tickets. The place was packed.
Now, I never have a bad time at the zoo, because the Philadelphia Zoo has a pair of Andean condors, and I just sit by their flight cage for two hours. But Heir likes the small mammals. I said to her, "You know what? If you try to see the pygmy marmosets in this crowd, the only thing you'll see is other people also trying to see the pygmy marmosets."
Heir readily agreed to turn back, especially since we didn't see any of the cosplayers.
As we made our way back across the bridge, we did run into some of the cosplay people. They (also late) were headed for the zoo. And they were lavishly attired. Spare and I made our apologies and continued on our way. We weren't in their league when it came to costumes, and I was still thinking about the crowd in the zoo and the cost of getting inside.
Heir was a little angry at me for more or less calling the shots and giving up so easily, especially when we quite serendipitously ran into the very people we would have been looking for. (Trust me, they would have been easy to find, by sight, no matter how crowded the zoo was!) But by that time I didn't care what she thought, because I was heeding the call of the bored gods.
We re-traversed the cliff, crossed busy Kelly Drive, and found ourselves along the banks of the river. It was not a Regatta day, but plenty of people were plying crew boats in the water, and there were joggers, bikers, walkers, and nature-lovers everywhere. Heir and I found a bench in the shade of a secluded garden that overlooked the river. We talked and talked as the pretty boats slid by and all sorts of people passed us in their own pursuits.
After awhile I remembered that it was Judgment Day. And by golly, there was something I'd never done that I always wanted to do, and by golly, I was right there ready to do it!
I'd never walked along Boathouse Row.
So Heir and I did it.
Boathouse Row is pretty famous. It's a serious of a dozen or so boat-storage houses, dating to the mid-1800s, that sit along the river and serve as host destinations for Regatta teams. You can see Boathouse Row from the freeway, and I'd often looked at it with longing as I inched by on the other side of the river.
Wow, those houses are gorgeous up close! It's like France or something. Each one has a personality, and the whole avenue where they sit is tree-lined and shady, with plenty of space for strolling. At the end of the row there's a little sandwich shop where Heir and I used our zoo money to get lunch and water.
As we ate, I said to Heir, "Hey, we're right by the Waterworks! I've always wanted to see that too!"
So we walked on. We explored the Waterworks, watched the river spill over a dam, and then ... right above us on the cliff ... Philadelphia's Museum of Art!
It was way too late to go into the museum, but we scaled the cliff and stood at a gazebo, staring out at the vast distance we had walked, the Schuykill River, the beginnings of a wedding at the Waterworks, the racing boats ... and off on the horizon, the hot air balloon marking the environs of the zoo. Behind us the modern skyscrapers of Philadelphia rose shining in the sun.
I said, "It doesn't get better than this." It felt so good to be out in the air, uncrowded and unfettered.
Then we walked back to the car, passing yet another wedding-in-progress. Happy the brides that the sun shines on!
The moral of this parable: Follow not your prescribed plans, but your heart instead. Don't be led by people. Take the hands of the gods and ramble the less-trodden path.
For those who live by the book and by the charismatic exhortations of fellow mortals are often led astray. But those who stand in the presence of the bored gods, with nothing between themselves and the Divine, will find peace in the apparent world -- and peace beyond the veil.
Busy god letting you down? Listen: there are other singers in other rooms. How sweet they sound.
