Living These Days

Author: Mary Patricia Trainor

  • Public Square

    Watchlist: Why watch Orwell: 2 + 2 = 5
    George Orwell wrote the book 1984 in 1948, and it was published the following year. Genre-wise, it’s been branded as science fiction (earlier in its life), dystopian future fiction, political fiction, social science fiction.


    Sitting here in 2025—some seventy-seven years after publishing—I venture to say that it has never been more relevant a story than now.


    And the new documentary presents that story well. (There’s a link to the trailer at the end of this article.)


    Okay, so documentaries aren’t always the first thing you reach for on movie night. But trust me: Raoul Peck’s Orwell: 2 + 2 = 5 is different. It’s smart, stylish, and a little bit chilling in the best way. Here’s why you’ll want to check it out:

    1. It Feels Weirdly Now
      This isn’t dusty history. Orwell’s worries about truth, lies, and power line up almost too well with the world we’re living in. You’ll catch yourself thinking, “Wait… are we already in 1984?”
    2. It Actually Looks Cool
      No endless talking heads here. The movie mixes Orwell’s own words (voiced by Damian Lewis) with sharp visuals, real-world clips, and a moody vibe that keeps you hooked.
    3. It Leaves You Thinking
      This isn’t popcorn entertainment, but it is the kind of film that makes you want to text a friend afterward and say, “Wow, we need to talk about this.”

    ⭐ Bottom line: If you’re in the mood for something thought-provoking and a little haunting, Orwell: 2 + 2 = 5 is 100% worth the watch.
    Watch the trailer here:
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGMEOdPxpWs

  • Public Square

    You can’t always get what you want

    I arrived late to the fan club that adores The Rolling Stones.

    Country music was my genre of choice in the 1950s,1960s, and 1970s. Americana, traditional values (meaning, “how I grew up,”) and a genre in which women finally could become stars, not just backup singers.

    Have you ever realized you missed out on what the general populace identifies as your group?

    Well, I do. I completely missed the 1960s. I never marched. No drugs except nicotine and alcohol.

    I was editor of the college newspaper when one day someone burst into the offices to report that someone lowered the flag to half-staff.

    My most radical act was to grab a camera, race downstairs, out the front door, to the flagpole, where I used up my entire roll of film. Thirty-six frames of a flag at half-staff. I took a lot of ribbing for that.

    So, cool I was not. Then, or today. Only now I hold a different world view. A view that treasures honor, truth (facts,) justice for all. A world where love reigns, where everybody always has enough. 

    That includes the creatures around us, and the eco systems that make life sustainable. I believe in God, though many believe otherwise.

    I’m also prone to ear worms, those little bits of a song that you just cannot stop singing. So, while visiting family in Milwaukee this past week, I subjected them to two ear worms.

    First was, “Here comes Peter Cottontail” sung relentlessly to acknowledge the rabbit we witnessed ravaging the still-green tomatoes at season’s end.

    The second ear worm was the title of today’s blog: “You can’t always get what you want,” from Mick Jagger’s and Keith Richards’ 1969 all- time rock hit.

    At its most basic level, the line is kind of a “no-duh” statement. I could amend it to read, “You almost never ever get what you want.” This would be closer to being accurate, but the meter’s off, and the message more dreary than the original.

    For me, the saving hope  of this song and of life itself are its closing words:

    But if you try sometimes
    Well, you just might find
    You get what you need    .

    MPT+

  • Public Square

    Who did you tell?


    Instructions for living a life.
    Pay attention.
    Be astonished.
    Tell about it.


    These wise words come to us from the late poet Mary Oliver.


    They’re as good a place as any I know of to lead the way to an appreciation of wonder.


    Pay attention.
    Be astonished.
    Tell about it.


    A shooting star. Remember when you first saw one of those? Who did you tell?


    A magnifying glass transports sunlight to dry leaves and, voila, creates fire.
    Who did you tell?


    A mated pair of birds can interlace their wings and offer their fallen offspring a ride to freedom.
    Who did you tell?


    Wonder awaits us at nearly every turn.
    Pay attention.
    Be astonished.
    Tell about it.


    EDITOR’S NOTE: Wonder and philosophy. Christopher Campbell explores their relationship today in a new podcast episode of The Wonder Files.

  • Public Square

    “Thin places” are recognized by most world religions as “real.” While the name and concept are often known to us through ancient Celtic Christianity, the idea is not singularly Christian. Most of the world religions acknowledge that there are places and moments where humanity’s now and God’s now intersect.

    In my podcast today, The Wonder Files, I talk about thin places, going into some depth regarding what they are, and how we may find them. I then share a personal thin place from my life.

    Please check out The Wonder Files on your favorite podcast link. It also is available on podomatic.com. At the upper right on the pages, click “Listen to Podcasts,” then search for The Wonder Files. It’s free! You can also find a link on my website, livingthesedays.me

    Also, here is a link to how other faith and spiritual community’s align with this.

    In the Judeo-Christian tradition there are a number of scriptural references to the “reality” of God being with us. Here are a few such references:

    Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it. Genesis 28:16.

    God called to him from within the bush… “take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” Exodus 3:4-5

    I saw the Lord, high and exalted… Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory. Isaiah 6:1-3

    The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son. John 1:14

    There He was transfigured before them… A voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with Him I am well pleased. Listen to Him!’ Matthew 17:2-5

    Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? … your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.’ Psalm 139:7-10

    Revelation 21:3 – Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them… God Himself will be with them and be their God.

  • Recalling Wonder

    Twinkle, twinkle, little star
    How I wonder what you are
    Up above the world so high
    Like a diamond in the sky
    Twinkle, twinkle, little star
    How I wonder what you are…

    This lovely nursery rhyme is likely familiar to most of us. A charming relic of our own childhoods, or perhaps recycled through grandchildren, and great-grands.


    For me it’s also a bonafide ear worm, a catchy piece of music or melody that gets stuck in our heads and repeats involuntarily. I find myself humming the tune even as I write
    this.


    I grew up in the idyllic 1950s America. Summers in the suburbs offered lots of bike riding and playing with neighbors. Just be home by dark, parents would say. We thought we were astonishingly free. Little did we realize we had a whole network of parents watching over us.


    It was a childhood filled with fairytales and wonder. We were free to imagine.


    I shall always be grateful to my parents for the bedroom ceiling they painted. Odd, you may think, but I am very serious.
    Against a backdrop of light, almost imperceptible, yellow, my parents adapted the stippling paint technique. They wadded up newspaper, dipped a piece in red, green, or blue paint, then pressed the wad to the ceiling.


    When done, we had a ceiling full of unique and irregular shapes. We stared at them to wind down toward sleep. Pointing excitedly, “Do you see the green rhinoceros? Right there!” “That’s not a rhino, that’s a buffalo.”

    We lived in a fantasy world where we both could be right, when buffalos and rhinos both roamed the US. And they could be green, blue, or red. The next night, the same splotch might become Lassie or Rin Tin Tin.


    It was all possible in the wonderland that was our childhood ceiling.


    My podcast, which debuts today, is all about recognizing and celebrating the wonder in our lives.


    I’ll bet you that, once you start looking, you’ll see that it’s everywhere!


    Check out the podcast at livingthesedays.me

  • Sacred Text

    This little light of mine

    Light has sprung up for the righteous, and joyful gladness for those who are truehearted. Psalm 97:12

    Today, the Church remembers St. Ninian, bishop of Galloway.

    Trained in Rome and inspired by St. Martin of Tours, Ninian left home to share the Gospel with people who had never heard it.

    He built the Candida Casa—the “White House” of Whithorn—as a center of Christian worship. His story reminds us that evangelism begins in obedience to God’s call, even when the task seems daunting.

    No one ever promised it would be easy, especially in difficult times such as we find ourselves now.

    But just imagine if we weren’t overwhelmed by the enormity of the big picture, and focused instead on what we might do to make the world a bit better in our own limited sphere of influence.

    Let us pray that, like Ninian, we can be bearers of light in dark places, not necessarily by traveling to distant lands, but by embodying Christ’s love in our daily lives—through kindness, truth, and courage.

    Special Notice: My new podcast debuts one week from today, on September 23. The Wonder Files can be found wherever podcasts are published. Check it out and offer your feedback to wonderfiles01@gmail.com

  • Sacred Text

    Saluting fidelity

    On September 9, 1878, an Episcopal nun named Constance died in Memphis, Tennessee.

    Years later, she and a small cohort of similarly devoted people of faith would be lifted up as saints of the church.

    The group is often described as Constance and Her Companions, or the Martyrs of Memphis.

    When yellow fever swept through Memphis, many others fled the city in fear. But Constance, a nun of the Sisters of St. Mary, and her companions (Thecla, Ruth, Frances, Charles Parsons, and Louis Schuyler) remained to serve the sick, bury the dead, and comfort the orphaned.

    Sister Constance declared, “It is a privilege to minister to the sick, and we are not afraid to die.

    Her words were not bravado, but a quiet testimony of love stronger than fear.

    Their lives are reminders that holiness is often found not in grand gestures, but in daily faithfulness, staying when others leave, serving when others retreat, loving when others despair.

    The story of Constance and her companions is not only a page of history. It is also a summons:

    When crisis comes, when fear tempts me to flee, may I pause long enough to heed Christ’s call to remain in love, and serve.

    Footnote: Yellow fever is a viral disease spread through mosquito bites. Nowadays, it can be prevented through vaccination, and proper mosquito abatement strategies.

  • Sacred Text

    Mark 14:66-72


    And [Peter] broke down and wept.


    Dear friend,
    I’d bet most of us know our own weak spots. Despite bravado that may suggest otherwise, we not only know our weak spot(s), we also may live in fear of being exposed. Heaven forbid that the world see us as we are. One coping skill that many of
    us may wield in our own defense is “denial.”


    Peter, you’re going to deny me three times before a rooster announces daybreak tomorrow.


    Peter’s “no” was emphatic. Not me. I wouldn’t do that. You got this wrong.


    But Jesus knew his friend well. He understood that Peter meant what he said about not betraying him. But after the crucifixion, followers hid in fear. “Knows Jesus” was being erased quickly from resumes throughout Jerusalem.
    —
    We live now in fearful times. We live among those who think separation of church and state is not necessary. Some live in fear they’ll be snatched off a street and, without due process, be locked in some hellhole by dinner.


    We’re revisiting battles already won but now being questioned again.


    We have federally mobilized troops in our cities.

    It’s difficult to just keep going when we fear that we’re not going somewhere good.


    It’s a test of faith, isn’t it, whatever our faith might be.

    I mean, we have responsibilities for our neighbor—which means we can’t just walk on while they are in danger. Or hungry. Or naked. Or unhoused.


    Falling to our knees and weeping may seem an appropriate response to an overwhelming need. But it doesn’t erase the need itself, and it doesn’t get our work done.


    So, pardon me while I stand up, brush off my knees, dab my tears with Kleenex. I believe I am late for work.

  • Public Square

    Mother of Exiles

    In troubling times, I have long turned to poetry, country music lyrics, and hymnody for comfort. Actually, more than comfort, they help me get closer to identifying what I am feeling.

    These are troubling times. And, yesterday, I found myself groping for the words to a poem I memorized in the sixth grade.

    I did not remember the name, yet the words formed on my lips as though it was still 1956:

    Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

    The title of Emma Lazarus’ poem is “The New Colossus,” and you may remember the work she wrote to inspire fund raising for the pedestal of The Statue of Liberty.

    What I only recently learned is that Lazarus chose her words, not so much to reflect America’s attitudes as though they are fixed, but rather to inspire America to always enlist its better angels as regards the stranger, the alien, the immigrant in all times,” and especially in troubling times such as these.

    Her biographer, Esther Schor, praised Lazarus’ lasting contribution:

    “The irony is that the statue goes on speaking, even when the tide turns against immigration,” even against immigrants themselves, as they adjust to their American lives. You can’t think of the statue without hearing the words Emma Lazarus gave her.”

    Verse

    The Colossus

    Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

    With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

    Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

    A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

    Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

    Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

    Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

    The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

    “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

    With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

    Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

    The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

    Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

    I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

  • Public Square

    ‘Shall we make a new rule of life…always try to be a little kinder than is necessary.’ J.M. Barrie, The White Little Bird. 1902.


    Be kinder more than necessary
    Those are words to live by. No one loses the argument, no one loses the fight. Everyone wins at the “soul level” if our focus is to be kinder than necessary.
    A side note: It is in The White Little Bird that Barrie introduces the character Peter Pan, though the Peter we would recognize is more fully developed in his writings over the next several years.


    It is difficult for me to imagine an argument against “more kindness.”


    “Be kinder than necessary” aligns well with the goals of major religions. We can debate, I suppose, as to how much kindness may be necessary. But if in a quest for precision I feel compelled to drag out the scales or the yard stick, I may be missing the big point.
    Maybe the call is really about being kinder than my first impulse, kinder than I may think is sufficient, kinder than if I think Someone is watching.
    For those of us awash in the deepening muddy trenches of U.S. American politics, being kinder than necessary (however we define it) just might be a good place of focus. Being kind does not require the surrendering of other important values. It simply suggests we keep one toe in the pool of shared human values while we do. 


    SPECIAL NOTE
    Stay tuned for my podcast, launching soon. The Wonder Files will debut in late September on most platforms where podcasts air. It also will be available on livingthesedays.me, this blog’s website.