No one was home. I could sneak into my brother’s room undetected and search through his messy arrangements of books to find the two I wanted—Big Red and Irish Red! Once I had them in hand, I headed to the bookshelf in my bedroom where there was a gaping hole. Carefully I placed both paperbacks in the tidy line-up of books, arranged alphabetically by author. Once again, they were MINE. (At least for a few days or a week—until my brother performed a similar covert operation and “stoled” the books back!)  His claim to these Jim Kjelgaard books was that he had read them first. My claim was that he had “given” them to me to read—and (the ethical argument) that I tended to take better care of books than he did!         I associate this adolescent “war” with Paul’s notion of “living in the flesh.” Both my brother and I wanted to have, to own, to control, those paperbacks. Paul argues that such a materialistic way of life leads to conflict, that there is a better way to pursue happiness. He called this other way “living in the spirit.” Had my brother or I been living in the spirit, we would have been grateful for the experience of reading Big Red and Irish Red—but we would not have clung to the corporal books themselves so tightly. Living in the spirit is characterized by appreciation and sharing, not covetousness and possession.         My brother won the war for the Jim Kjelgaard books. When he moved out of our parents’ home, he took the paperbacks with him.  They were on a bookshelf—I am sure a messy one—when a fire broke out and destroyed them.  To the best of my knowledge, those two paperbacks had never been enjoyed by anyone besides my brother and myself before they were incinerated.

Call me squeamish; I prefer to think of myself as sensitive. Whenever I watch something violent on television, I have a hard time falling asleep and the images haunt me for days. So I choose not to watch violent shows - with one exception: Game of Thrones. Apparently if dragons are flying around, I find violence perfectly acceptable!        In an attempt to justify this anomaly, I tell my husband that I find the character development in Game of Thrones redeeming. Take Jamie - one of the very numerous players in the mess brought on by various people seeking to sit on the Iron Throne. Seven seasons ago, he was a vain and arrogant man devoted to advancing his family’s claims. The finest swordsman in Westeros, Jamie’s life changed dramatically when his ability to wield a weapon was lost. Yet it was this very loss that enabled Jamie to see himself, his family and the situation in Westeros in an entirely new light. He became a more understanding, compassionate human being.         For me, Jamie’s story illuminates the spiritual journey many people have to make. Coming to a deeper understanding of one’s self and a greater ability to love other human beings often entails losses. Thomas Keating nuances my thoughts on the matter: “Suffering itself does not make one holy….suffering (by itself can not) lead to new levels of knowledge and love. Unless we are willing to sacrifice what we have now, we cannot grow. We grow by dying and rising again, by dying to where we are now and being reborn at a new level.” The spiritual journey does entail losses, but also a willingness to be move toward newness of Life.