Skip to main content

And the beat goes on... somehow

I've been out of the blogosphere for a few days. Seems there are times when I can't focus my mind on the task at hand, as it were.

Or, like now, something happens that gives me pause--- a pause that often interferes with my mental day-to-day workings.

About 5 days ago, riding home with my husband and father, we happened upon a traffic back-up. For the fifteen minutes or so that we crawled along the highway, we speculated about what had caused it. Minutes later, we were deafened by the sound of sirens flying past us--- and we knew it was a wreck.

We pass them everyday...cars pulled over on the side of the road, fenders dented, doors crushed... rubber-necking passers causing more of a hold up than the wreck itself.

The wreck that day was different.

As we finally came upon the scene, my stomach sank. It wasn't a "car" wreck. Sprawled across the two-lane highway--- a motorcyclist lay--- his twisted bike in one lane, his twisted body in the other lane. And as I live in an unfortunate state where there is no law requiring motorcyclists to wear helmets, his body laying without a helmet.

It's easy to shrug death off when we read the papers or hear the news clips. It's easy to become desensitized to tragedies when they happen a million miles away to people you'll never know in towns/countries you'll never visit. When you hear about death after death... day after day... it's easy to shut your mind off or close your ears.

But, when you're close enough to stare death in the face.... when you're close enough to see the last expression a person will ever make.... and when that expression is seared into your mind, how can you ever hope to shut your mind off.

There was a reason I didn't follow the line of my family into the medical field......


Comments

  1. A sobering and thought-provoking piece .
    The topic of death always leads me to ponder on Donne's classic poem : Death Be Not Proud . I suppose it's like a sort of life-line when thinking about the pain/despair associated with death ...

    ReplyDelete
  2. "sobering" is exactly the word for it.... Death is one of those subjects that can potentially drown a person--- can't bear it, can't avoid it, fascinated by it, petrified of it.... *sigh*

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Share your thoughts!

Popular posts from this blog

Y is for Yeth Hound.....

Yeth Hound--- one of the incarnations of the "Black Dog" myth, this one located specifically, in Devon, England.

"Black Dogs" appear in myths across the world, most are associated with death and bad omens... i.e. Hell Hounds.

The Yeth Hound is said to be the spirit of an unbaptised child that takes the form of a headless black dog. The Hound wanders the woods at night making pitiful wailing sounds (though, I'm unclear as to how it makes wailing sounds without having a head).

The Black Dogs were possibly one inspiration from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's ghost dog in The Hound of the Baskervilles-- "an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen."



Heed Not, the Lonesome Cry
Heed not, the lonesome cry, the baleful wail echoing through the woods. Seek not, the black hound's sigh, look not where the headless creature stood.
One sound, your limbs will shake, your heart filled with the deepest dread. One glimpse, your sou…

B is for Banshee.....

Irish bean sidhe and Scottish Gaelic bean sith, literally, woman of fairyland.


The mythology and legend surrounding the Banshee is a bit mixed. The most readily accepted story is of a hag-like creature wailing the impending death of someone nearby-- most ancient Gaelic families, especially the more well-to-do families, had their own Banshees that attached themselves to the lineage of the family name. I suppose it was a sign of station for a family to be able to claim their own Banshee--- I mean, who needs an exciting/ tongue-wagging-inciting skeleton in your cupboard when you've got a Banshee wailing in your rafters?
The origins of the more familiar Banshee may have stemmed from the ancient Keeners-- women who were employed to sing a lament at a funeral. The best Keeners were in high demand to "wail" and "weep" for the great personage who had fallen.

The Great families would boast a bean sidhe or bean sith-- a fairy-woman Keener--and having foresight, the Keene…

Scottish Festival and a bit of poetry...

The 38th annual Arkansas Scottish Festival was held at Lyon College in Batesville, Arkansas on April 7th - April 9th. This was the first time I'd ever attended. I'm sad to say I didn't even know the festival existed until last year. On Saturday, April 8th, a group of friends and I made the several-hour trek, determined to enjoy everything we could.
The weather was glorious, all bright, bonnie sunlight and mild temperatures. Seemed mother nature approved of the festivities. The campus was appropriately kitted out, and nearly everyone in attendance was properly *ahem* kilted out. 
Bagpipes playing, we ate meat pies--- well, mine was a 5-cheese mac & cheese pie--- watched clans parade their colors, got sunburned (darn our fair, Celtic skin), and wanted the day to last forever.
There were a host of competitions, everything from Scottish/Irish dance-offs, sheep dog trials, Tartan races, a Celtic poetry competition, piping and drum trials, even a bonniest knees competition (…