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nothingunrealistic · 4 years

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81, sheilannah

81. “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.”

“‘…he struck his lyre, and at the sound all that vast multitude were charmed to stillness,’” Sheila reads aloud. “That’s the thing like a harp, right?”

“Right.”

“Thought so.” Sheila clears her throat and picks the story back up. “‘The dog Cerberus relaxed his guard; the wheel of Ixion stood motionless; Sisiphus sat at rest upon his stone; Tantalus forgot his thirst…’”

Susannah listens to Sheila read with her arms wound tight around herself, bracing against the chill of a September morning in Nation’s shadow. Being as Nation is technically a school, they have classes sometimes, and what was meant to be an English class inside turned into all the girls standing outside and taking turns reading from a tattered copy of Hamilton’s Mythology, huddled around the window in Miss Asp’s office so she could still watch them while taking what they were told was a very important phone call. Once they’d figured out Miss Asp was paying them no mind at all, and after Ya-Ya had tried to reenact the story of Prometheus and the eagle with Harriet II as the eagle and whoever didn’t get away quick enough as Prometheus, most of the girls had scattered across the yard, leaving just Susannah and Sheila passing the book back and forth.

“‘…Orpheus sang, O Gods who rule the dark and silent world, To you all born of woman needs must come —’”

“That’s not singing.”

Sheila looks up from the page, dog-eared and singed by some ancient cigarette. “What?”

“It said he sang,” Susannah says. “You’re not singing.”

Sheila squints at her. “There’s no music. Look.” She flips the book around, putting it in Susannah’s face, so close the print gets blurry. “It’s just words. Besides, I don’t sing.”

Susannah folds her arms. “Everyone sings. Even if it’s just when they’re alone. You have to know one song.”

The glare Sheila gives her — stony face, unsmiling eyes smoldering with dark eyeliner — is undercut by how she tugs at the lock of hair hanging over her shoulder. She pulls the book back to herself and traces her finger down the page. “‘O Gods who rule the, dark and silent world, to you all born of, woman needs must come…’”

Susannah’s mouth drops open a little at Sheila’s voice, a rich alto with just a bit of a rasp, and it takes a few beats for her to place the melody that Sheila’s tried to fit to the words. “Is that ‘This Land is Your Land’?”

“It was the first thing I thought of that worked,” Sheila says, letting the book fall shut in her hands. “Didn’t have any better ideas.”

“It wasn’t bad. You have a nice voice.”

Sheila flips back through the pages and picks up where Susannah had cut in, reading the rest of her part without singing, never looking up. Susannah can’t say whether she offended Sheila by teasing her or by paying her a compliment; she still hasn’t worked it out when Sheila puts the book into her hands.

She looks for the spot where Sheila left off, then starts to read, about the gods letting Eurydice go free, about the condition that Orpheus not look back until they both stepped into the living world again, about the dark and winding path they had to climb without reaching out to one another. “‘…Now he had stepped out joyfully into the daylight. Then he turned to her. It was too soon; she was still in the cavern. He saw her in the dim light, and he held out his arms to clasp her; but on the instant she was gone. She had slipped back into the darkness. All he heard was one faint word, “Farewell.”’”

A chill runs through Susannah that nearly shakes the book from her hands. She can’t blame it on the weather alone.

Sheila notices. “It’s cold, you should take my jacket.”

“No, I… I’m fine,” Susannah lies.

Sheila shoves her hands in her pockets. “This guy Orpheus is a total flake. If I had a boyfriend —”

“Husband, they were married by then.”

“Even worse. If I had a husband, and he let me die, then went all the way to hell to bring me back, and there was one rule about bringing me back, and I was almost out when he screwed it up, I’d be pissed. What kind of a guy does that?”

“Maybe he thought she’d made it out,” Susannah offers. “Or he didn’t trust Hades to let her go and wanted to make sure she was even there.”

“I’d still be pissed. And flipping him off the whole way. You wouldn’t see me just saying ‘farewell’ and then slipping into the darkness.”

“Maybe Eurydice didn’t want to leave. Orpheus never asked her.” Susannah tries to swallow down the nervousness that’s threatening to curl her tongue. “Maybe she was scared to go back to the real world.”

Sheila looks at her for a long moment, too long not to know what’s on her mind. “Any normal person would want to go back.”

So maybe she’s not normal, Susannah doesn’t say, holding out the book to Sheila. “Your turn.”

Sheila takes it one-handed, keeping the other hand in her pocket. “‘Desperately he tried to rush after her and follow her down, but he was not allowed. The gods would not consent to his entering the world of the dead a second time, while he was still alive.’” Susannah thinks about that, about the terrible unfairness of only death letting Orpheus and Eurydice see one another again, as Sheila reads on about Orpheus wandering the country alone, only comforted by his music, until the Maenads found him. “‘…as frenzied as those who killed Pentheus so horribly. They slew the gentle musician, tearing him limb from limb, and flung the severed head into the swift river Hebron.’ Jeez.”

“That is horrible.”

“‘It was borne along past the river’s mouth on to the —’” Sheila pauses to cough, her face going pink. “Sorry. ‘Past the river’s mouth on to the Lesbian shore, nor had it suffered any change…’” Susannah’s cheeks heat; she scans the yard for anyone who might be listening too close. To her surprise, it’s empty. They must have missed the other girls heading inside. “‘…there to this day the nightingales sing more sweetly than anywhere else.’ …The end.”

“W-w-we —” Susannah cuts herself off and reaches for calm, for carefully made words. Let’s speak elegantly and cleanly… “We should go inside.”

Sheila looks up and around, evidently just as surprised as Susannah to see what she’d seen. “Oh. Yeah, we should.”

#inbox #cockbiteproductions #love in hate nation #sheila nail #susannah son #sheilannah #sometimes i write #fun fact: nearly a quarter of the word count on this is direct quotes from the book they're reading

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rionsanura · 5 years

Audio

went to see Susannah at school tonight and. wow. It’s an opera by a really accessible American composer, Carlisle Floyd, set in nearly-modern Appalachia with a story based on the apocryphal (or I think it’s canonical for the Catholics) Book of Daniel events of Susannah and the Elders where a girl is taking bath in the spring and they see her and blame her for their lust and shit goes down.

It’s a hard story, but an important one, especially now, and the aria I knew from it was not the one that really stuck with me tonight. She sings it after everything goes wrong and nothing will ever be the same again. Ain’t It A Pretty Night is the famous one, but I was looking for this one, The Trees on the Mountain, (sung gorgeously tonight by a grad student) and no recordings were hitting the spot, so I went trawling on Soundcloud and this one really blew my mind off. The original setting is very minimal, basically just harp and some strings sometimes, but this (very familiar lol) multitracking technique really sets it off gloriously and the technique both in the lead and the chordal structures is nigh on flawless, and so devastatingly expressive. You go, RexRegina. I already cried like 5 times in the show, but this is caketaking work.

#music nerdery #susannah #rexregina

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letterfromtrenwith · 6 years

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Six Fics - George & Elizabeth

Six fics for @upstartpoodle and @enyses

First Kiss, Underwater, Children, Regency, Mirror, Last Thoughts

Send me a character/pairing and I’ll write a minific on each of the prompts

First Kiss Flowers petals swirled around them as they stepped out of the church into the sunshine, the bells ringing out behind them, well-wishers smiling and clapping. George smiled at her, pure adoration in his eyes. It touched her, cutting through whatever other unwelcome feelings might have been trying to encroach. The guests looked at them as they stood upon the step. Elizabeth knew what they were expecting.

As he had bid her goodbye the previous evening, George had – almost timidly – pressed a kiss to her cheek, the most intimate they had ever been. She had been surprised by how deeply that barest of touches had affected her. Now, he glanced at her, questioning, silently asking her permission. Of course she would grant it – she was his wife now, and she intended to be a true wife in every way.

So, she met those entrancing eyes of his and smiled, leaning in. His lips were surprisingly soft, his kiss incredibly gentle. It was chaste, of course, they were in public after all; but, for just that brief moment, and for the first time in she did not know how long, Elizabeth lost herself to tenderness.

Underwater It was like coming up for air, breaking the surface of a sea she did not realise she had been submerged in. After Francis’ death, she had been forced, by both her own grief and by what society expected of a widow, into a sort of shadow world. A murky, dull place, devoid of light and laughter. Her son was her only source of happiness, but even he had sometimes only reminded her of what she had lost – his father, her husband, the chance for more children.

No matter what…difficulties had preceded it, her second marriage had gradually, bit by bit, drawn her out of this peculiar exile. Gone were her dark clothes, the oppressive silence of a house in morning. There instead was the laughter of her baby, the smile of her eldest child as he played with his governess, the trill of her harp strings played for the first time in months.

She took pleasure in small things again – a spray of baby’s breath picked from the gardens, the soft linen of a new shift, the bittersweet flavour of a morning cup of coffee. Her dulled, dampened emotions came back to life – happiness, affection, passion, love.

The waters had parted over her and she had emerged back into the light.

Children “Are feeling quite well, my dear?”

Elizabeth started a little as George spoke to her and he frowned. She had seemed oddly distracted these past few days, and it concerned him. After dinner, she had excused herself, saying she wished to bathe before bed. George had left her be, but retired early to await her. When she came into the bedroom, damp hair bound up with a strip of linen, wrapped in her bed robe – although an old green one, not the new embroidered blue silk he had bought for her – she looked pensive, even a little melancholy. It worried him.

“Elizabeth? Is something the matter?” He made to get up from the bed but she shook her head, coming to join him, curling up next to him against the pillows.

“Nothing. There is nothing the matter.” She gave a small smile. It was genuine enough, but there was still something behind it. George laid his hand gently over hers, where she toyed with the edge of her robe. She interlinked their fingers.

“Elizabeth. Tell me, please.”

“It is silly. It is only it is my – my monthly – “ George made a small noise of understanding. He should have realised – she often found a bath especially soothing during these times.

“And it is troubling you?”

“No, no, it is not that. It is just that, I had been wondering if I was with child again…but it seems I am not.” She smiled again, a little sadly this time.

“Oh, my dear. I am sorry.” He shifted, inviting her closer, and she cuddled into his side; he wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her arm soothingly. “It is quite soon, after all.”

Their youngest children, twin daughters Clare and Susannah, were not yet nine months old, and they had come less than eighteen months after their elder sister.

“Oh, I know. I’m being foolish.”

“Not at all, my dear. Do you wish for more children?”

“Yes. Very much so. But I know it is possible there will not be more. I was not young when we married and now – “

“Oh, Elizabeth, do not say you are old. If you are old, then I am quite ancient!” His light jest had the intended effect, and she made a soft noise of amusement.

“Do you wish for more children?” She looked up at him, her soft eyes wide. He bent his head to kiss her forehead.

“Of course, my dear. A dozen if you wish!” Elizabeth laughed properly this time.

“A dozen, indeed? Well, if that is case…” She bit her lip. “When I am feeling quite myself again, we shall have to work very hard at it!”

Regency “Papa. The newspaper says we are to have new King. Is that true?” George raised his eyebrows at his eldest daughter over his teacup. At thirteen, Ursula was precociously intelligent – perpetually curious about the world around her. She took somewhat after her elder brothers in that respect, but even they had not been prone to stealing their father’s newspaper of a morning. George caught Elizabeth’s eye and she smiled before turning to help their youngest child, Flora, only four, tear off a piece of her toast.

“In a way, my dear.” He knew she would not be satisfied with that answer, and indeed she wasn’t.

“Even though King George is still alive?”

“Cousin Loveday says the King is mad.” Clare piped up. At eleven, she put great stock in the wisdom of her elder cousin.

“Aunt Wenna said he’s not mad, he’s unwell, and very sad because Princess Amelia died.” Clare’s twin, Susannah, argued.

“Being sad doesn’t mean he can’t be King! And besides, Valentine says the Prince of Wales is a fat idiot.”

“Ursula!” George hid his smile behind his cup as Elizabeth admonished their daughter. The other children giggled and their mother shook her head with a sigh. No doubt Valentine had given his verdict on the soon to be Prince Regent in one of his letters from school, Ursula being his most frequent correspondent. George privately rather agreed with his son’s assessment, having been introduced to the Prince on a visit to London several years previously.

“Your Aunt is right.” Elizabeth continued, pouring some milky tea for Flora, who slurped at it happily, entirely uninterested in matters of state. “The King is very ill – he has been for many years, since your Papa and I were young, even. Now, it is too difficult for him to perform his duties, and he must rest, so the Prince is going to look after things for him.”

“That’s right. Just like if something happened which meant I was unable to look after the Bank anymore, Geoffrey Charles would do so in my place…Not that that is likely, of course.” George rushed to the reassurance, seeing the worried looks cross his older daughters’ faces at the mention of anything happening to him. Ursula’s immediately turned to a puzzled frown, however.

“Geoffrey Charles? Not Valentine?”

“Valentine is not old enough, but of course he will inherit one day, just like Geoffrey Charles inherited his father’s estate.” The very house they all now lived in. George and Elizabeth had prepared to move back to Cardew once Geoffrey Charles came of age, but he had insisted he did not want to live at Trenwith alone, nor make the younger children leave the house they had been born in, and so they remained.

“Would Geoffrey Charles come home then?” Their youngest son, Nicholas, only eight, had seemed much more interested in his porridge than their discussion before now, but had looked up at the mention of his idolised elder brother, who was currently fighting on the Continent.

“Geoffrey Charles will come home soon. He said so in his last letter.” Elizabeth soothed, but she and George exchanged another glance, this one sadder than the first. They worried constantly about him, and his communications were sporadic, but they could never burden the children with their concerns.

“Now!” George decided a change of subject was in order. “That’s enough about princes and regencies, get off to your morning lessons, all of you. Go on, shoo!”

The four eldest departed with only minor grumbling, Ursula tucking the infernal newspaper under her arm as she went.

“I’m going to stop getting that.” George muttered and Elizabeth laughed, lifting Flora onto her lap.

“Do not deny that you are pleased to have such clever children.”

“Oh, of course I am, my dear. But I am getting too old for politics at the breakfast table!”

Mirror George only caught a glimpse of her in the reflection – a flash of white over his shoulder, like a fleeting spirit – before she wrapped her arms around him from behind, holding him tightly.

“What are you doing sneaking about in here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, my dear.” He felt Elizabeth’s huff of amusement against the back of his neck. She pressed her face into his soft material of his shirt and he covered her hands with one of his. “I am back very late; I did not want to wake you. I thought it best if I slept in here tonight.”

“Best for whom? Your poor wife, who has laid alone in a cold, empty bed this past week?” Her words might have sounded plaintive, but her tone was teasing and he could see her mouth curving in a smile as she propped her head on his shoulder and their eyes finally met in the mirror. Despite her playfulness, he could see that Elizabeth was tired. He hoped she had not been sitting up waiting for him.

She turned, touching her face gently to his, closing her eyes. George studied her in the glass – the fine arch of her cheekbone, her full lips, the soft curls of hair falling over her face. She was so very beautiful. How he missed her when he was not at home, more and more every time he was away.

Where once he had relished the demands of his work, he now often found himself resenting them for how they took him away from his home, his family and, of course, his wife.

“Every time you go away, I swear to myself that when you return, I shall forbid you from ever leaving again.” It was almost as if she had read his thoughts. He turned in her arms, away from the mirror at last, lifting a hand to touch her cheek.

“And do you forbid it?” Neither of them spoke entirely seriously, but George knew that if she said ‘yes’ and meant it, he would contrive every way he could to obey her. Elizabeth cocked her head to one side, as if considering, but her eyes sparkled.

“Hmm…no, I do not think so.” Still holding him close, she leant forward to brush the lightest and most tantalising of kisses over his lips, barely pulling back before she spoke again. “For if I do not let you leave, I should be forever denied the pleasure of a reunion.”

Last Thoughts It had all happened so quickly. The magistrate’s court sat in judgement of an assault – some altercation between a pair of feuding families with a long history of dispute. It had been a fractious trial, relatives of the accused and the alleged victim making a nuisance of themselves. George had had to threaten them with removal several times.

Then, there had been a particularly vociferous objection to a piece of evidence, someone had jumped to their feet, and another to meet them. The constables had moved in, and chaos had ensued, men shouting and brawling, benches clattering over, until suddenly – an unmistakable crack. A pistol shot. The whole room froze – a bizarre tableaux centred around two men: the man with the gun, and the constable forcing his hand away. Towards the bench.

George had stood in the heat of the tussle, attempting to call for some order, and was about to look around to see where the shot had hit when a woman screamed, pointing directly at him. He glanced down at himself and found that he could not comprehend what he was seeing, the blood spreading across his chest.

Everything blurred after that – the room tilted and George could not follow what was happening. He was no longer standing up, but he was being moved; there were hands touching him, grasping his arms and legs, pressing on his shoulder, which hurt. He could not tell them it hurt, could not say anything.

A man was speaking to him, a voice he recognised – not panicked, but questioning, urgent. He could not understand it. He felt a thud, something hard against his back, and then more voices, people clustered around him, their shapes indistinct. Out of the corner of his eyes, he glimpsed something – a woman, dark hair, a blue dress.

Elizabeth.

He tried to call for her, to reach for her, but his body would not co-operate. The pain in his shoulder was worse, and he could feel himself slipping, but he grasped at the thought of his wife, fought to hold onto it. To keep her face in his mind, to conjure up the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand.

Please, he thought, as his vision began to grey. Please let me see her again.

#poldark #george warleggan #elizabeth warleggan #george x elizabeth #fic #f: ge #m: fic

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ohdoubtersredux · 6 years

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Reading List Update, 12/7/2017

Read so far:

Rock and Sand: An Orthodox Appraisal of the Protestant Reformers and Their Teachings by Fr. Josiah Trenham

The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien

All Hallows Eve by Charles Williams

The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies by Robert Kirk

A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis

Raising Them Right: A Saint’s Advice On Raising Children by St. Theophan the Recluse

The Fellowship: The Literary Lives of the Inklings: J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Owen Barfield, Charles Williams by Philip and Carol Zaleski

Everyday Saints and Other Stories by Tikhon Shevkunov

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

The Iliad by Homer

The Doors of the Sea: Where Was God in the Tsunami? by David Bentley Hart

The Devil and Pierre Gernet: Stories by David Bentley Hart

Icon by Georgia Briggs

Starship Troopers by Robert A. Heinlein

Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crichton

Micro by Michael Crichton with Richard Preston

Chronicles of History and Worship by Patrick Henry Reardon

The Apocalypse in the Teachings of Ancient Christianity by Averky Taushev

Dragon Teeth by Michael Crichton

The Facade by Michael Heiser

The Portent by Michael Heiser

A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeline L’Engle

Creation and the Patriarchal Histories by Patrick Henry Reardon

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

Confession: Doorway To Forgiveness by Jim Forest

Wounded By Love by Elder Porphyrios

The Odyssey by Homer

Through New Eyes by James B. Jordan

Great Lent: Journey To Pascha by Alexander Schmemann

The Story of the Sacred Harp, 1844 - 1944 by George Pullen Jackson

Many Waters by Madeline L’Engle

The Northern Theba’id: Monastic Saints of the Russian North by Fr. Seraphim Rose

Roadside Picnic by Arkady Strugatsky

The Gunslinger by Stephen King

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

The Drawing of the Three by Stephen King

The Wastelands by Stephen King

The Trial Of Job: Orthodox Christian Reflections On The Book Of Job by Patrick Henry Reardon

The Color of Magic by Terry Pratchett

Wizard and Glass by Stephen King

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

Salem’s Lot by Stephen King

The Wind Through the Keyhole by Stephen King

Behold the Beauty of the Lord: Praying With Icons by Henri J.M. Nouwen

The Wolves of the Calla by Stephen King

Insomnia by Stephen King

Song of Susannah by Stephen King

A Good and Happy Child by Justin Evans

Before the Feast by Saša Stanišić

Cycle of the Werewolf by Stephen King

What the Hell Did I Just Read? by David Wong

Black House by Stephen King

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

The October Country by Ray Bradbury

Little Sister Death by William Gray

The Dark Tower by Stephen King

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman

From the Dust Returned by Ray Bradbury

Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum

The Father Christmas Letters by J.R.R. Tolkien

Letters to Malcolm, Chiefly on Prayer by C.S. Lewis

Our Thoughts Determine Our Lives: The Life and Teachings of Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica by Ana Smiljanic

On the Incarnation by St. Athanasius

The Winter Pascha by Thomas Hopko

The Benedict Option: A Strategy for Christians in a Post-Christian Nation by Rod Dreher

The Orthodox Study Bible (full year-long read through)

Currently reading:

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

3 By Flannery O’connor by Flannery O’connoor

The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church by Vladimir Lossky

Unquenchable Fire: The Traditional Christian Teaching About Hell by Lawrence R. Farley

Father Seraphim Rose: His Life and Works by Damascene Christensen

#74!#reading #literature #books

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aroundmke · 6 years

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Black Pearl Sings!

I am always happy to get tickets for the Stackner Cabaret. It’s cozy, it’s warm, and theater is better with beer. Even on a Thursday night, the bar and house were packed. My friend and I settled in for the show and it began quietly. The recorded buzz of cicadas and drums pulled us to a Texan women’s prison, 1933.

The show covers a lot of ground. The preservation of history, the preservation of soul, the love between a mother and child, and the love between two women for different worlds. Pearl is an incarcerated woman at the height of the depression. Susannah is an ambition collector from the Library of Congress who is fighting like hell to be recognized in her field. It’s a story of poverty, race, women’s rights, and the delicate dance of getting what you need from those who do not see you as their equal.

BPS is not exactly a musical. I once heard someone explain “If the characters know they are singing, it’s not a musical, it’s just a play with music.” Pearl knows she can sing, and it is her song that carries this show. Lynette DuPree has a voice that profoundly displays the power, hurt, and history of both herself and Pearl’s lives. So often we harp on the tone and beauty of a voice, but so seldom do we have a chance to talk about the context of a voice. It is beautiful, of course, but it is also aged like a wine and fresh like a flower. Lynette DuPree has the weight of Pearl’s story hanging from every note, every bar is a testament to her pain.

The few times we hear Susannah sing are a treat as well. The stark contrast of Southern English to Irish is as clear-cut as the differences between the two women. Played by Colleen Madden with such strength and reserved power, she is a treat to hear and see.

BPS is a truly profound show. It has the raw, moving power that many great plays have had before, but none have given such a deep and stirring performance as these two. Black Pearl Sings runs through March 18th, so get a ticket while you’ve got a chance.

Till the next show,

#Black Pearl Sings #BPS #Milwaukee #Theater #Plays #race in america #1933

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fructidors · 9 months

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fine the mechanisms have taken over my brain take a very shitty harp cover of trial by song

#is this the first harp stuff i've posted here? i think it is #susannah harps on #there that's a good tag #the mechanisms #the mechs #ulysses dies at dawn

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fructidors · 4 months

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guesssss who is back in harp string changing hell

#susannah harps on #<- i literally only use this tag to post about changing strings #AUGHHHDH it’s a third octave b #I PLAY THAT NOTE SO MUCH #for reference most of my harp is strung with gut which sounds much better #but when i change strings i use nylon since it’s way easier to string and MUCH cheaper #but then the note sounds different. to Me

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fructidors · 8 months

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back in harp string hell!

#and once again i don’t! have! a backup!!#susannah harps on #that’s my harp tag i think??

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tinacalder · 2 years

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Coleraine Sisters Join Harps Alive Festival Lineup This Weekend

Coleraine Sisters Join Harps Alive Festival Lineup This Weekend @harpsalivefest #HarpsAlive #HarpsAliveFestival

Coleraine Sisters and Harpers Kathryn Weir and Susannah Weir are set to perform as part of the Harps Alive│An Chruit Bheo│Harps Leevin festival in Belfast this weekend. This year’s Harps Alive│An Chruit Bheo│Harps Leevin festival is bringing together harpers and historians from throughout the island in celebration of the 230th anniversary of the assembly of harpers in Belfast, while also serving…

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#harps alive #harps alive festival

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tinacalder · 2 years

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Co Antrim Harpers Join Harps Alive Festival Lineup This Weekend

Co Antrim Harpers Adam O’Neill, Gráinne Meyer, Kathryn Weir, Susannah Weir, and Katy Bustard will be performing as part of the Harps Alive│An Chruit Bheo│Harps Leevin festival in Belfast this weekend. Organised by the Harps Alive partnership, the festival will bring together the finest harpers from across the island to recognise the landmark event that collected music more than two centuries ago…

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#an chruit bheo #county antrim #harps alive #harps alive festival #harps leevin

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ohdoubtersredux · 6 years

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Reading List Update, 11/8/2017

Read so far:

Rock and Sand: An Orthodox Appraisal of the Protestant Reformers and Their Teachings by Fr. Josiah Trenham

The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien

All Hallows Eve by Charles Williams

The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies by Robert Kirk

A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis

Raising Them Right: A Saint’s Advice On Raising Children by St. Theophan the Recluse

The Fellowship: The Literary Lives of the Inklings: J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Owen Barfield, Charles Williams by Philip and Carol Zaleski

Everyday Saints and Other Stories by Tikhon Shevkunov

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

The Iliad by Homer

The Doors of the Sea: Where Was God in the Tsunami? by David Bentley Hart

The Devil and Pierre Gernet: Stories by David Bentley Hart

Icon by Georgia Briggs

Starship Troopers by Robert A. Heinlein

Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crichton

Micro by Michael Crichton with Richard Preston

Chronicles of History and Worship by Patrick Henry Reardon

The Apocalypse in the Teachings of Ancient Christianity by Averky Taushev

Dragon Teeth by Michael Crichton

The Facade by Michael Heiser

The Portent by Michael Heiser

A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeline L’Engle

Creation and the Patriarchal Histories by Patrick Henry Reardon

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

Confession: Doorway To Forgiveness by Jim Forest

Wounded By Love by Elder Porphyrios

The Odyssey by Homer

Through New Eyes by James B. Jordan

Great Lent: Journey To Pascha by Alexander Schmemann

The Story of the Sacred Harp, 1844 - 1944 by George Pullen Jackson

Many Waters by Madeline L’Engle

The Northern Theba’id: Monastic Saints of the Russian North by Fr. Seraphim Rose

Roadside Picnic by Arkady Strugatsky

The Gunslinger by Stephen King

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

The Drawing of the Three by Stephen King

The Wastelands by Stephen King

The Trial Of Job: Orthodox Christian Reflections On The Book Of Job by Patrick Henry Reardon

The Color of Magic by Terry Pratchett

Wizard and Glass by Stephen King

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

Salem’s Lot by Stephen King

The Wind Through the Keyhole by Stephen King

Behold the Beauty of the Lord: Praying With Icons by Henri J.M. Nouwen

The Wolves of the Calla by Stephen King

Insomnia by Stephen King

Song of Susannah by Stephen King

A Good and Happy Child by Justin Evans

Before the Feast by Saša Stanišić

Cycle of the Werewolf by Stephen King

What the Hell Did I Just Read? by David Wong

Black House by Stephen King

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

The October Country by Ray Bradbury

Little Sister Death by William Gray

The Dark Tower by Stephen King

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman

Currently reading:

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

From the Dust Returned by Ray Bradbury

Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits by David Wong

Wise Lives: Orthodox Christian Reflections on the Wisdom of Sirach by Patrick Henry Reardon

Our Thoughts Determine Our Lives: The Life and Teachings of Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica by Ana Smiljanic

The Benedict Option: A Strategy for Christians in a Post-Christian Nation by Rod Dreher

Unquenchable Fire: The Traditional Christian Teaching About Hell by Lawrence R. Farley

The Orthodox Study Bible (full year-long read through)

Father Seraphim Rose: His Life and Works by Damascene Christensen

#reading #literature #books

0 notes

ohdoubtersredux · 7 years

Text

Reading List Update, 10/3/2017

Read so far:

Rock and Sand: An Orthodox Appraisal of the Protestant Reformers and Their Teachings by Fr. Josiah Trenham

The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien

All Hallows Eve by Charles Williams

The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies by Robert Kirk

A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis

Raising Them Right: A Saint’s Advice On Raising Children by St. Theophan the Recluse

The Fellowship: The Literary Lives of the Inklings: J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Owen Barfield, Charles Williams by Philip and Carol Zaleski

Everyday Saints and Other Stories by Tikhon Shevkunov

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

The Iliad by Homer

The Doors of the Sea: Where Was God in the Tsunami? by David Bentley Hart

The Devil and Pierre Gernet: Stories by David Bentley Hart

Icon by Georgia Briggs

Starship Troopers by Robert A. Heinlein

Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crichton

Micro by Michael Crichton with Richard Preston

Chronicles of History and Worship by Patrick Henry Reardon

The Apocalypse in the Teachings of Ancient Christianity by Averky Taushev

Dragon Teeth by Michael Crichton

The Facade by Michael Heiser

The Portent by Michael Heiser

A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeline L’Engle

Creation and the Patriarchal Histories by Patrick Henry Reardon

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

Confession: Doorway To Forgiveness by Jim Forest

Wounded By Love by Elder Porphyrios

The Odyssey by Homer

Through New Eyes by James B. Jordan

Great Lent: Journey To Pascha by Alexander Schmemann

The Story of the Sacred Harp, 1844 - 1944 by George Pullen Jackson

Many Waters by Madeline L’Engle

The Northern Theba’id: Monastic Saints of the Russian North by Fr. Seraphim Rose

Roadside Picnic by Arkady Strugatsky

The Gunslinger by Stephen King

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

The Drawing of the Three by Stephen King

The Wastelands by Stephen King

The Trial Of Job: Orthodox Christian Reflections On The Book Of Job by Patrick Henry Reardon

The Color of Magic by Terry Pratchett

Wizard and Glass by Stephen King

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

Salem’s Lot by Stephen King

The Wind Through the Keyhole by Stephen King

Behold the Beauty of the Lord: Praying With Icons by Henri J.M. Nouwen

The Wolves of the Calla by Stephen King

Insomnia by Stephen King

Song of Susannah by Stephen King

Currently reading:

Black House by Stephen King

The Dark Tower by Stephen King

A Good and Happy Child by Justin Evans

Before the Feast by Saša Stanišić

The October Country by Ray Bradbury

Wise Lives: Orthodox Christian Reflections on the Wisdom of Sirach by Patrick Henry Reardon

Our Thoughts Determine Our Lives: The Life and Teachings of Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica by Ana Smiljanic

The Benedict Option: A Strategy for Christians in a Post-Christian Nation by Rod Dreher

Unquenchable Fire: The Traditional Christian Teaching About Hell by Lawrence R. Farley

The Orthodox Study Bible (full year-long read through)

Father Seraphim Rose: His Life and Works by Damascene Christensen

#53 so far #readin #literature #books

0 notes

ohdoubtersredux · 6 years

Text

Reading List, Final 2017 Tally

Read (81):

Rock and Sand: An Orthodox Appraisal of the Protestant Reformers and Their Teachings by Fr. Josiah Trenham

The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien

All Hallows Eve by Charles Williams

The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies by Robert Kirk

A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis

Raising Them Right: A Saint’s Advice On Raising Children by St. Theophan the Recluse

The Fellowship: The Literary Lives of the Inklings: J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Owen Barfield, Charles Williams by Philip and Carol Zaleski

Everyday Saints and Other Stories by Tikhon Shevkunov

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

The Iliad by Homer

The Doors of the Sea: Where Was God in the Tsunami? by David Bentley Hart

The Devil and Pierre Gernet: Stories by David Bentley Hart

Icon by Georgia Briggs

Starship Troopers by Robert A. Heinlein

Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crichton

Micro by Michael Crichton with Richard Preston

Chronicles of History and Worship by Patrick Henry Reardon

The Apocalypse in the Teachings of Ancient Christianity by Averky Taushev

Dragon Teeth by Michael Crichton

The Facade by Michael Heiser

The Portent by Michael Heiser

A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeline L’Engle

Creation and the Patriarchal Histories by Patrick Henry Reardon

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

Confession: Doorway To Forgiveness by Jim Forest

Wounded By Love by Elder Porphyrios

The Odyssey by Homer

Through New Eyes by James B. Jordan

Great Lent: Journey To Pascha by Alexander Schmemann

The Story of the Sacred Harp, 1844 - 1944 by George Pullen Jackson

Many Waters by Madeline L’Engle

The Northern Theba’id: Monastic Saints of the Russian North by Fr. Seraphim Rose

Roadside Picnic by Arkady Strugatsky

The Gunslinger by Stephen King

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

The Drawing of the Three by Stephen King

The Wastelands by Stephen King

The Trial Of Job: Orthodox Christian Reflections On The Book Of Job by Patrick Henry Reardon

The Color of Magic by Terry Pratchett

Wizard and Glass by Stephen King

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

Salem’s Lot by Stephen King

The Wind Through the Keyhole by Stephen King

Behold the Beauty of the Lord: Praying With Icons by Henri J.M. Nouwen

The Wolves of the Calla by Stephen King

Insomnia by Stephen King

Song of Susannah by Stephen King

A Good and Happy Child by Justin Evans

Before the Feast by Saša Stanišić

Cycle of the Werewolf by Stephen King

What the Hell Did I Just Read? by David Wong

Black House by Stephen King

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

The October Country by Ray Bradbury

Little Sister Death by William Gray

The Dark Tower by Stephen King

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman

From the Dust Returned by Ray Bradbury

Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum

The Father Christmas Letters by J.R.R. Tolkien

Letters to Malcolm, Chiefly on Prayer by C.S. Lewis

Our Thoughts Determine Our Lives: The Life and Teachings of Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica by Ana Smiljanic

On the Incarnation by St. Athanasius

The Winter Pascha by Thomas Hopko

The Benedict Option: A Strategy for Christians in a Post-Christian Nation by Rod Dreher

The Orthodox Study Bible (full year-long read through)

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

The Cricket on the Hearth by Charles Dickens

The Chimes by Charles Dickens

The Battle of Life by Charles Dickens

The Haunted Man and the Ghost’s Bargain by Charles Dickens

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

The Orthodox Veneration of the Mother of God by St. John Maximovitch

Currently reading going into 2018:

Father Seraphim Rose: His Life and Works by Damascene Christensen

Devils by Fyodor Dostoevsky

3 By Flannery O’connor by Flannery O’connor

The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church by Vladimir Lossky

Unquenchable Fire: The Traditional Christian Teaching About Hell by Lawrence R. Farley

Broad 2018 Goals:

The Chronological Bible (to be read entirely via audiobook during Lent)

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Increased consumption of Ancient Texts such as the Epic of Gilgamesh and Greek, Roman, and Hindu Myths.

Increased consumption of works by Orthodox Saints

At least one nonfiction history book.

More Dickens.

At least one Mark Twain.

Hamlet and the rest of the major Shakespeare works.

Something from the Western canon outside of my comfort zone.

#reading #books #literature

0 notes