the more likely we are to assume that the solution comes from the outside, the less likely we are to solve our problems ourselves
Night poured over the desert.
It came suddenly, in purple.
In the clear air, the stars drilled down out of the sky, reminding any thoughtful watcher that it is in the deserts and high places that religions are generated.
When men see nothing but bottomless infinity over their heads they have always had a driving and desperate urge to find someone to put in the way
Many religions now come before us with ingratiating smirks and outspread hands, like an unctuous merchant in a bazaar.
They offer consolation and solidarity and uplift, competing as they do in a marketplace.
But we have a right to remember how barbarically they behaved when they were strong and were making an offer that people could not refuse.
The human mind, no matter how highly trained, cannot grasp the universe.
We are in the position of a little child, entering a huge library whose walls are covered to the ceiling with books in many different tongues.
The child knows that someone must have written those books. It does not know who or how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written.
The child notes a definite plan in the arrangement of the books, a mysterious order, which it does not comprehend, but only dimly suspects.
That, is the attitude of the human mind, even the greatest and most cultured, toward God.
We see a universe marvelously arranged, obeying certain laws, but we understand the laws only dimly.
Our limited minds cannot grasp the mysterious force that sways the constellations.
. No later than the 2nd century, the Romans named Saturday diēs Sāturnī ("Saturn's Day") for the planet Saturn, which controlled the first hour of that day, according to Vettius Valens. The day's name was introduced into West Germanic languages and is recorded in the Low German languages such as Middle Low German satersdach, saterdach, Middle Dutch saterdag (Modern Dutch zaterdag), and Old English Sæternesdæġ, Sæterndæġ or Sæterdæ
Between the 1st and 3rd centuries AD, the Roman Empire gradually replaced the eight-day Roman nundinal cycle with the seven-day week. The astrological order of the days was explained by Vettius Valens and Dio Cassius (and Chaucer gave the same explanation in his Treatise on the Astrolabe). According to these authors, it was a principle of astrology that the heavenly bodies presided, in succession, over the hours of the day. The association of the weekdays with the respective deities is thus indirect, the days are named for the planets, which were in turn named for the deities.
The Germanic peoples adapted the system introduced by the Romans but glossed their indigenous gods over the Roman deities in a process known as interpretatio germanica. In the case of Saturday, however, the Roman name was borrowed directly by West Germanic peoples, apparently because none of the Germanic gods was considered to be a counterpart of the Roman god Saturn. Otherwise Old Norse and Old High German did not borrow the name of the Roman god (Icelandic laugardagur, German Samstag).
In astrology, Saturn is associated with Saturday, its planet's symbol , and the astrological signs Capricorn and Aquarius.
Saturday is named in honor of Saturn, the Roman god of agriculture. Each of the days of our week are named in honor of a god or object deemed worthy of veneration by the Anglo-Saxons. The sun and moon each get their due in Sunday (from the Old English sunnandæg, or literally "sun's day") and Monday ("moon's day").
While called the snow moon — a nickname inspired by the heavy snowfall typically seen in February in parts of the United States, according to the Farmers' Almanac — the golden orb will look almost like any ordinary full moon. But this moon will be a micromoon, meaning it might look slightly smaller than usual.
The full moon offers an opportunity to sit in the fullness of your life. It is a time to feel deep gratitude for the many blessings you have and experience. It is also a powerful time to recommit yourself to the projects and relationships that mean the most to you.
The Snow Moon, the traditional name for February's full moon in North America and Europe, is not just any full moon; it's the first micro-moon of the year. In contrast to the popular Supermoon, the micro-moon will appear smaller and fainter, offering a unique astronomical experience.
February’s full Moon peaks early Saturday morning, February 24, so look up both Friday and Saturday! It’s also a micromoon.
February’s full Snow Moon reaches peak illumination at 7:30 A.M. EST on Saturday, February 24. It will be below the horizon at this time, so for the best view of this Moon, look for it starting the night before or later on Saturday; it will drift above the horizon in the east around sunset and reach its highest point in the sky around midnight
February’s full Moon is a “Micromoon” this year. Think of this term as the opposite of a “Supermoon.” It simply means that the full Moon is at its farthest point from Earth (not the nearest point). In astronomical terms, we call this “apogee.” Specifically, February’s Micro full Moon is about 252,225 miles from Earth.
Why is the Moon nearer or farther (in this instance) from Earth? Simple: The Moon orbits Earth in an elliptical path. One side is nearer to Earth, and one side is farther. This distance affects the Moon’s size and brightness, although it’s probably not visible to the naked eye. The perceived size of the Moon from Earth is more related to the “Moon Illusion” and how close the Moon appears to the horizon; in this case, it’s high above the horizon, so it may not appear to loom over us the way it appears when it’s near the horizon.
The full Moon names used by The Old Farmer’s Almanac come from a number of places, including Native American, Colonial American, and European sources. Traditionally, each full Moon name was applied to the entire lunar month in which it occurred, not just to the full Moon itself.
The explanation behind February’s full Moon name is a fairly straightforward one: it’s known as the Snow Moon due to the typically heavy snowfall that occurs in February. On average, February is the United States’ snowiest month, according to data from the National Weather Service. In the 1760s, Captain Jonathan Carver, who had visited with the Naudowessie (Dakota), wrote that the name used for this period was the Snow Moon, “because more snow commonly falls during this month than any other in the winter.”
Names for this month’s Moon have historically had a connection to animals. The Cree traditionally called this the Bald Eagle Moon or Eagle Moon. The Ojibwe Bear Moon and Tlingit Black Bear Moon refer to the time when bear cubs are born. The Dakota also call this the Raccoon Moon; certain Algonquin peoples named it the Groundhog Moon, and the Haida named it Goose Moon.
Another theme of this month’s Moon names is scarcity. The Cherokee names of Month of the Bony Moon and Hungry Moon give evidence to the fact that food was hard to come by at this time.
Religions are, by definition, metaphors, after all:
God is a dream,
a hope,
a woman,
an ironist,
a father,
a city,
a house of many rooms,
a watchmaker who left his prize chronometer in the desert,
someone who loves you—even, perhaps, against all evidence,
a celestial being whose only interest is to make sure your football team, army, business, or marriage thrives, prospers, and triumphs over all opposition.
Religions are places to stand and look and act, vantage points from which to view the world.
How is it that hardly any major religion has looked at science and concluded,
“This is better than we thought! The Universe is much bigger than our prophets said, grander, more subtle, more elegant?”
Instead they say, “No, no, no! My god is a little god, and I want him to stay that way.”
A religion, old or new, that stressed the magnificence of the Universe as revealed by modern science might be able to draw forth reserves of reverence and awe hardly tapped by the conventional faiths
People don't like Mondays
but are Tuesdays any better
when Friday is that far off?
However one more day decrease from life,
Sweet dream lost with Tuesday,
This is Wednesday, remembering..
what forget Last day, running to fulfil,
A day after Tuesday,
I think its Wednesday,
Every eyes and my destiny ask
"What you did on Tuesday"
Monday always passes and there will always be a Tuesday with a beautiful blue sky with few clouds.
Tuesday isn’t so bad. It’s a sign that I’ve somehow survived Monday
Tuesday’s child is full of grace
There is a breed of Tuesday in January in which time creeps and no light comes and the air is full of water and nobody really loves anybody.
Brenda's parents divorced when she was young and lived with her father.
A neighbor once said when she tried to be friends with Brenda at age 5 Brenda ripped the doll of the neighbor's head off. FBI profiler Candice DeLong says doll mutilation is something that has been observed in children and teenagers who later become killers or stalkers. It can show a rage against the owner of the doll. It also be projection, a signal that she's being abused at home by someone.
Brenda would go to claim sexual abuse by her father.
On Monday, January 29, 1979 started out as a normal day. Children were going to school as the birds chirped. Across the road from Grover Cleveland Elementary school in San Diego, California, 16 year old Brenda Ann Spencer observed elementary children prepare for class from her bedroom window. She was home alone, as her single father had left for work. Instead of preparing for high school, Brenda Spencer retrieved a Ruger 10/22 rifle from her bed, a Christmas present from her father. Most can agree with former FBI profiler Candice DeLong's remarks that Brenda's father bears responsibility for what happened that day by buying her the gun.
Brenda aimed the rifle at the schoolyard from her bedroom. 9 year old Cam Miller was wearing a blue vest. Blue was Spencer's favorite color so he would be her first victim. A single .22 caliber shot entered his back and out of Cam's chest. Brenda proceeded to wound seven more children with stunning accuracy. Principal Burton Wragg was speaking with teacher Daryl Barnes (who was gave testimony on the episode) when the gun shots started and ran outside to see school children falling to the floor, some first grabbing a body part and screaming in pain before falling. The uninjured looked around confused as to what was happening. Nobody at the school knew where the shots were coming from.
Barynes and Principal Wragg bravely jumped into the line of fire to help get the kids inside the school for cover. Three shots rang out. Principal Wragg was fatally shot in the heart. Despite watching the principal die, he continued saving kids from the line of fire. Spencer fired at him but missed as well. School custodian Michael Suchar ran out in an attempt to pull the still-alive Wragg to safety. Spencer fired three shots and hit Suchar fatally. Suchar had served in Vietnam.
By then, police were responding to the school shooting. Officer Robert Robb shot in the neck as he arrived but he lived. Police proceeded to move a garbage truck in front of Spencer's line of fire.
The shooting was already on the news before Brenda stopped shooting.
After firing 30-36 rounds of ammunition, Spencer barricaded herself inside her home for nearly seven hours. While there, a journalist somehow found her home phone number and called. When asked why she did the shooting, she responded: "I don't like Mondays. This livens up the day." She later also spoke with police negotiators, telling them those she had shot made easy targets, and that she was going to "come out shooting." Ultimately, she surrendered.
A comment so flippant, sarcastic and callous as "I don't like Mondays" as a motivation for shooting up a school tells FBI profiler Candice DeLong that Brenda Spencer was not mentally ill at the time of the shooting and knew what she was doing.
The two victims were Principal Burton Wragg and custodian Mike Suchar. Eight students and a police officer were wounded. Out of the 30 rounds she fired, she hit eleven people with eleven hits, meaning she hit them all once.
In April 1980, Spencer pleaded guilty to first-degree murder and assault with a deadly weapon and was sentenced to 25 years to life in prison. Spencer remains in prison despite parole hearings. Her father still lives in the house where the shooting took place. Wallace Spencer got married to a woman younger than Spencer and had a daughter. The woman eventually left. 20 years after the shooting, Spencer made claims that her father sexually abused her.
Despite what former District Attorney Richard Sachs said , Spencer's rampage was not "the country's, if not the world's first school shooting case before 1979."
Brenda Spencer is however, America's first female school shooter.