Week i

Wreck of the Whale Ship Essex: The Complete Illustrated Edition - Owen Chase (William Coffin, Jr?)
In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex - Nathaniel Philbrick
The Buddha in the Attic - Julie Otsuka

  There she blows! A week ago The Whale by Philip Hoare breached off my larboard, spouting it's magic, misty whale breath, hypnotizing me with its broad, waxy back, flashing its fluke in my face and splashing spume onto my ship's deck. As soon as it dove, disappearing beneath its footprint, I hove to and called out for a gam with my sister ship the USS Rumble. "Full and by the mizzen top sail off the lanyard point to on the poop deck, aye Cap'in?" Captain Richard knew exactly what I meant, and graciously loaned me Wreck of the Whale Ship Essex and In the Heart of the Sea.
  
  I ate them up like a finback eats krill. Don't ask me how a finback eats krill...something about baleen. As you can probably tell, I know nothing about whales or sailing, so "the complete illustrated" part of Wreck of the Whale Ship Essex - charts and photos mostly - really helped me appreciate what I was reading. Also included in Wreck are excerpts from Moby-Dick and other books about maritime disasters. In the Heart doesn't just retell the Essex story, it sails it, hunts it, stoves it, starves it, tries it, finds it, loses it. Captain Pollard: "My God, Mr Chase, what happened?" Chase: "We have been stove by a whale."

   
  The Buddha in the Attic is the second Julie Otsuka book I've read this year - When the Emperor was Divine is the other. Both books follow Japanese Americans into the WW2 prison camps [where did 'internment' come from?]. Emperor follows a family - mother, father, daughter, and son - from pre-war California life into prison and back out again. Buddha follows thousands of young Japanese women arranged to be married to Japanese men already living in the U.S.; Buddha follows them, written voices and voiced thoughts, across the Pacific, into the marriage bed, into the fields and shops and homes to work, into motherhood, into war-time, stopping short of the prison-camp experience. The final chapter of Buddha records the voices and experiences of white neighbors immediately after the Japanese are taken away.

  Otsuka's writing is so accessible, so open, so human...there is no escape. The effect is a kind of relentless clarity. Relentless connection to the story and characters. Both Emperor and Buddha are short books, for which I am grateful. I'm not sure I could handle a 400 page Otsuka manuscript; I'd be a puddle of emotions by the end of it. These are stunningly beautiful books.

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  Just a quick thought - Jesus said that the only sign he would give would be the sign of Jonah, three days in the belly of the whale, three days in the tomb before rising again. Is the sign of Jonah, in some sense, the sign of the whale? "One calm, windless morning when the sea was flat as glass and the sky a brilliant shade of blue, the smooth black flank of a whale suddenly rose up out of the water and then disappeared and for a moment we forgot to breathe. It was like looking into the eye of the Buddha" (Otsuka pg13; Otsuka uses italics for speech or quotes). Is the sign of the whale, in some sense, the sign of the sea?

 The Bible has such a rich imagery of the sea - the formless waters before creation, the great flood, the crossing of the Red Sea, Jesus calming the waves with a word. Waves and waters can represent threat, chaos, tumult: "the roar of the seas" (Psalm 65), "the waters have lifted up" (Psalm 93), "the torrent washes over me" (Psalm 69). There are some Biblical allusions to the near eastern myth of a storm god (Marduk, Baal) battling and vanquishing a sea goddess or sea monster (Tiamat, Rahab) - like in Psalm 89, "You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise you still them. You crushed Rahab like a carcass".

  The sea is also a sign of God's greatness, God's power to separate the waters above from the waters below, God's wisdom and mercy to "set a boundary that they [the seas] might not pass, so that they might not again cover the earth" (Psalm 104), God's world-encompassing salvation, "the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea" (Habbakuk 2:14). God is so great that "Leviathan You [God] formed to sport in it."

  When Jesus claimed the sign of Jonah, three days in the belly of the great fish, was he also claiming order out of chaos? A return to the watery womb of creation? Union of male (storm, lightning) and female (sea, waves)? The mystery and majesty of the whale? The world-covering flood?

2018 Jesus Read-a-thon

   I've always wanted to spend a year reading as much Jesus literature as possible...is 2018 the year? I'm gonna give it a shot. My brother Richard said he'd read some with me, so I hoping we can keep each other motivated.
  Here's a list I made based on what we have in the library here at Richmond Hill. A handful of the books I've read before and need to read again. Most I've seen in the library and have been intending to pick up. Now's the time to pick them up! My plan is to make a weekly blog post with reading notes. Consistency is my goal. Read and write, read and write! Then, at the end of the year, perhaps I'll be inspired to write some kind of critical summary or spiritual reflection type thing.
  A year or two ago I read Housekeeping vs The Dirt, by Nick Hornby, a collection of his book reviews from the periodical The Believer (I think he has a bigger collection called The Polysyllabic Spree). I ate it up like candy; part book review, part memoir, part satire, it was insightful, personal, and hilarious. That's my dream - to be able to write something like that using mostly religious literature.
  This list is overfilled with WASP-y males like me, and also overdependent on the Jesus Seminar. People out there in cyberspace, I'd love some suggestions to diversify my author list. I may not be able to read it this year, but just having the title and author in my mind for future reading would be a comfort. Thank you!

Jan - Biblical Jesus

KJV Gospels

God’s Secretaries - Nicolson

Gospel Parallels

Five Gospels w Commentary - Funk, Hoover, etc

Who wrote the New Testament - Mack

Feb - Historical Jesus

Excavating Jesus - Crossan and Reed

New Test. Background, Selected Docs - ed C.K. Barrett

Meeting Jesus again for the First Time - Marcus Borg

Jesus Christ and Mythology - Bultmann

Honest to Jesus: Jesus for New Millennium - Funk

Mar - Christian Jesus

Acts-Rev

From Jesus to Christ - Paula Fredriksen

Religion in Greece and Rome - Rose

The Real Jesus - Luke Johnson

The Kingdom Within - Sanford

Jesus through the Centuries - J Pelikan

Christ and Culture - Niehbur

April - Extra Jesus

Gnostic Gospels - Elaine Pagels

Beyond Belief - Pagels

Jesus - K. Gibran

Gospel According to Mary - Miriam Winter

Lamb - Gospel According to Biff - Moore

Christ out of Egypt - A Rice

The Last Temptation of Christ - Kazantzakis

May - Prophet Jesus

Isaiah-Malachi

The Prophets - A Heschel

The Suffering Servant - Christopher North

The Prophetic Imagination - Bruggeman

June - Jewish Jesus

Two Types of Faith - Buber

Jesus the Jewish Theologian - Brad Young

Between the Testaments - D.S. Russell

July - Muslim Jesus

The Qu'ran

The Muslim Jesus - Khalidi

Rumi

Aug - Hindu Jesus

Hinduism - K. Sen

Message of Jesus Christ - Gandhi

Autobiography - Gandhi

Gospel of John in Light of Indian Mysticism - Ravindra

Bhagavad-Gita

Sept - Buddhist Jesus

Living Buddha, Living Christ - Hanh

Coming Home: Jesus and Buddha as Brothers - Hanh

In the Words of the Buddha - selections from pali cannon

Without Buddha I could not be a Christian - Paul Knitter

Oct - Jesus comes to America

God is Red - Vine Deloria

Jesus in America: A History - Fox

The Book of Mormon

The Pipe and Christ - Stolzman

Jesus for President - Claiborne

Nov - Black Jesus

Jesus and the Disinherited - Thurman

Souls of Black Folk - DuBois

The Cross and the Lynching Tree - Cone

Trabelin On - Sobel

I Have a Dream - collection of speeches and writings by MLK

Bearing the Cross - Garrow

Dec. - English Lit. Jesus

Milton, Donne, etc

Jesus as Precursor - Funk

review of 'Transitions' for PCC class

 Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes

William Bridges

Perseus Books Publishing, 1980

Pages: 170

About the Author:

William Bridges (1933-2013) began a major transition in his own life in 1974: he quit his job as a professor of American Literature to become…well…he wasn’t sure at the time what he was becoming. His second career description might read: speaker- consultant-counselor-writer, focusing on the transition process. He spent the greater part of the second half of his life speaking, consulting, counseling, and writing to help people and organizations make the most of the transitions in their lives. This book, Transitions: Making the Most of Life’s Changes, is the first of several best selling books by Bridges on the transition process.

Analysis of Content

Transitions, by design, is a book with wide application. In it Bridges discusses his own transitions, those of his counseling clients, those of his students, those of tribal initiation rituals, and those transitions implicitly and explicitly described in literature and ancient myth. He attempts to paint a universally recognizable picture of the transition process – ending, then “neutral zone,” then beginning – that is flexible enough to be used and referred to by people making and enduring many different types of changes. This broad applicability, I believe, is both the great strength and weakness of this book. His outline of transition is general enough to be helpful in almost any situation, but because of this openness and generality I found myself wanting more specificity, more data. In other words, he makes a great argument, but he doesn’t really give the reader any way to verify or falsify his work. He refers mostly to personal anecdotes, the writings of other social analysts, and Jungian analysis of myth and ritual. Transitions is more memoir and “self-help” psychology than it is “social science.” This is by no means a “failure” on Bridges’ part! I don’t think he intended to write a sociological study on modern transition processes. I just wish that he could have written that book, too! I wonder if in his later books on transition he attempts to use surveys and other data gathering techniques to support his literary and personal groundwork. I really enjoyed his writing, especially his use and interpretation of the Oedipus cycle. I recommend it to any and all.

Points of Interest

1. The basic outline of the transition process, he says, “begins with an ending:” something about us or in our lives ends. Sometimes we want the ending. Sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we deny it. But we can’t transition and transform without there first being an ending, writes Bridges. Then comes the “neutral zone” – a “fallow” time when life feels dead, out of whack, and/or chaotic. This neutral zone is very important for us, Bridges insists; it is a time when the primordial chaos out of which we came can stir-up once more; it is a seed bed for the new beginning toward which we strive. Then comes the new beginning, which is always “untidy,” he says. In the least ‘successful’ transitions, so to speak, the new beginning is just a repetition of what just ended. In fact, Bridges says, such transitions really have “skipped” either the ending or the neutral zone. In the best transitions, on the other hand, this new beginning is driven by a deeper understanding and a more-whole self.

2. Bridges draws on the riddle of the Sphinx of Thebes to describe the ongoing transition that we experience. “What animal walks on four feet in the morning, two feet at noon, and three feet in the evening, yet has only one voice?” Oedipus guessed correctly – the human being – and became ruler of Thebes. The first phase of life – childhood – is about dependence, experimentation, identity development, play, and learning. The second phase – adulthood – is about independence, work, relationship, commitment to the “tribe” and family, self-definition and continued self-discovery. Instead of focusing on the “mid-life crisis,” Bridges describes adulthood as a series of “crises,” a rhythm of “expansion and contraction,” where one crisis sometimes sticks out as the “big one.” The third phase doesn’t really have a name (elderhood?), but Bridges describes it as a time of deeper connection, interrelatedness, and wisdom – more concern for meaning and less for production.

3. Transitions describes more than it prescribes – but it does lay out ten tips for dealing with transition: “1. Take your time.  2. Arrange temporary structures. 3. Don’t act for the sake of action. 4. Recognize why you are uncomfortable. 5. Take care of yourself in little ways. 6. Explore the other side of the change. 7. Get someone to talk to. 8. Find out what is waiting in the wings of your life. 9. Use this transition as the impetus to a new kind of learning. 10. Recognize that transition has a characteristic shape.”

4. Bridges writes of four aspects of endings: Disengagement – no longer being involved in the job, relationship, neighborhood, life-style, etc.; Disidentification – no longer describing ourselves (internally and externally) as being “of” that job, relationship, neighborhood, life-style, etc.; Disenchantment – learning the “truth” underneath the “myths” and stories that supported or constituted whatever it was that just ended; Disorientation – no longer knowing which way is up, which way to go, which way is forward. This is the entrance to the twilight, I mean, the neutral zone.

5. Tips for the neutral zone: “1. Find a regular time and place to be alone. 2. Begin a log of neutral zone experiences. 3. Take this pause in the action of your life to write an autobiography. 4. Take this opportunity to discover what you really want. 5. Think of what would be unlived in your life if it ended today. 6. Take a few days to go on your own version of a passage journey.”

6. Tips for beginning anew: “1. Stop getting ready to act and act. 2. Begin to identify yourself with the final result of the new beginning. 3. Take things step by step. 4. Diffuse your purpose and transfer it from the goal to the process of reaching the goal.”

Personal Reaction

I’m feeling pretty tired of transition, to be honest. From high school to college to a handful of jobs, through several deep relationships and several different communities…I don’t think of myself as a transient but that’s kind-of what I’ve been over the first decade of my adulthood. Don’t get me wrong I’ve had a great life! Lots of great experiences. I’ve had my psychological ups and downs, but I’ve very few complaints about my journey. In fact I’m very grateful, when I stop to think about God’s goodness to me! But I guess that’s the point – I’ve been moving so much that I haven’t so often stopped to think about God’s goodness. Transition has been exciting and fun, but I think part of my call to Richmond Hill has been a call to find ways to settle down to the bottom even as the water of life continues to run toward the ocean. Stability in transtion.

This book has given me some good words and ideas to apply to my life, to the life of Richmond Hill, and to the life of all the relationships and organizations of which I am a part. My biggest take-away from Transitions is the encouragement to be consciously involved in my life’s transitions. Whether I initiate the transitions or not, Bridges advises me to take time to think about and engage in the endings, the “neutral zone,” and the new beginnings that are a part of my life and of all life.

Practical Presentation

10 min discussion activity in two’s or three’s. Three topics: pg 15, pg 125, Biblical characters

Fears: PCC Response Paper 3

 

Of what are you most afraid?

When I was a boy, and then as a teenager, I used to have dreams about seeing my younger brother, John, die, and being unable to prevent his death. Not only was I unable to prevent his death in these dreams, but I was negligent in my supervision; or at least I felt negligent during and after the dream.

I remember one particular dream: we – my family and me – are parked at an overlook on a mountain ridge. Have you ever driven along the Blue Ridge Parkway or the Skyline Drive? Then you know just the kind of roadside overlook I’m talking about. The parking lot is long and shallow, with a small strip of grass between the pavement and the rock wall at the edge of the cliff or bluff.

In this dream, beyond the low rock wall is a steep granite ledge, at an angle down toward the real edge of the cliff. John and I are walking along the rock wall, and I’m nervous for him, but either because I’m unwilling or unable I don’t keep him close to me. The sky is gray and cloudy and my family is out of view. Before I know it John hops down from the wall to the granite ledge, and then he slips toward the abyss. I don’t see him fall, but somehow I know he falls…and that’s the end of the dream.

Four or five years ago, not too long after my nephew, Joseph, was born, I started having similar anxieties about being negligent and seeing him hurt or killed. I haven’t had any dreams about it, but at some point I realized that Joseph had replaced John in my “greatest fear” scenario.

What exactly am I afraid of here? Is it losing these people that I love? I deeply love John and Joseph, but I deeply love other people as well. Why is it John and Joseph in particular? Is it failing to uphold my duty as an older brother and as an uncle? I’ve had other duties and responsibilities as pressing and intimate.

I think John and Joseph’s youth has something to do with the depth of my fear. Their innocence, inexperience, vulnerability. They represent my own “soft” spots and deep vulnerabilities. Do I fear my own vulnerability, or the vulnerability of life in general?

My anxiety about negligence is also a key to interpreting this. Guilt! Shame! I’m guilty about my failure and ashamed about my inherent inability. I think it’s significant that my guilt and shame have to do with a lack or omission rather than an act or commission.

If John and Joseph represent my vulnerability, then would being unable to save John or Joseph represent my inability to protect myself? Isn’t that the definition of vulnerability? I’m running in circles here.

Let’s go back to guilt and shame: these are the real issues, I think. Am I afraid of them? They say that you fear what you don’t know. I’m well acquainted with guilt and shame! Why would I be afraid of them? Perhaps I’m afraid of the inevitable production of guilt and shame. I feel trapped, unable to stave off my deepest failures and inabilities, even when it matters the most. John and Joseph represent the deepest truth and value placed by God in my heart of hearts, and I feel continually unable to live up to that. That makes me afraid.

Who are you?: PCC Response Paper 1

Know Thyself: Who are you?

My name is David Bolling Vinson, though I usually go by David – sometimes Dave. I’ve been Dave-o to a few friends, David (sounds like ‘Dabeed’) in the Dominican Republic, and Dawut (sounds like ‘Dawoot’) in Turkey. I’ve answered to “dude,” “white dude,” “soccer dude,” “Vinson,” “Richard” (several of my school teachers often called me by my older brother’s name), “man,” “hey you,” “DV,” “Mr. V” (in the school where I worked), among other handles. My aunt used to address all her mail to me as “Master David” for no apparent reason; I enjoyed that.

My parents named me David after my maternal grandfather. Bolling comes from my paternal grandmother’s family, and Vinson of course is my paternal family name. I haven’t done much research into the Vinson name, but most in my family assume it to be an Anglicized version of Vincent, which is a Norman name I believe. So ethnically speaking, perhaps I’m Scandinavian-French-English-American, but that’s just the paternal side I suppose.

I’m about six feet and one inch tall, kinda scrawny, with long legs. I favor both my mother and father, but my frame comes from my father’s side. I have brown hair, much like my mother’s in color and thickness, blue eyes like my father, a round nose like both parents, and very big teeth, similar to my father. My second toe is longer than my big toe – somehow that is significant to my mother; she calls it Morton’s toe and thinks it’s funny. My ears stick out, and on my right ear the upper lobe is squished, as is my father’s and my older brother’s. I have a slight dimple in my left cheek when I smile. Overall I look very similar to both my brothers and my father.

To some extent I’m the sum of my experiences, right? I grew up in Danville, Virginia, the second of three boys in an educated middle class family. I lived in a middle class white neighborhood and attended a middle class white church. I made my way through Danville Public Schools, which is well integrated racially, actually, even though the neighborhoods are quite segregated; I made good grades, even though I didn’t study or retain very much. Sports, music, and church kept me busy and happy.

When I was sixteen my parents divorced, which rocked my world. My vague and intuitive notions of home, family, humanity, marriage, love, morality, even of God, changed. Changed how? I’m not sure. I was like an ignorant goat in the garden of Eden, watching my human masters fail and then following them out into the “real” and fallen world.

I went to college and studied literature and developed a love for it, and a love for study. After graduating I worked in Turkey as a home-school teacher, then came back to the states to work in a boarding school for two years. I struggled painfully with depression that second year, and I moved to Richmond the following summer, bunking with my brother, Richard, his wife, Suzanne, and their son, Joseph. Their hospitality and love were inspiring, and their family – now including a precious daughter, Cora Rose – continues to inspire me.

I worked for a school year as a teacher’s aid in the Sarah Dooley Center for Autism and the Dooley School over at St. Joseph’s Villa. During that year I discovered, with my sister-in-law’s help, this wonderful and fascinating place called Richmond Hill. I volunteered now and then; I got to know some of the residents; then I participated in their summer camp program; I felt a tug, and I was interested. I inquired about and then applied for the one year internship in Urban Spirituality, and now this month marks three years for me at Richmond Hill. Thanks be to God! I feel God’s call to service here more strongly now than when I first applied.

Who or what else am I? I’m a personality – quiet, introverted, curious, silly, anxious, depressed, open, adventurous. I’m a mess of habits – work, sleep, eat, scratch my head, brush my teeth, pop my knuckles. I’m a character – kind, patient, passive-aggressive, fearful, responsible, guilty. I’m an identity – Christian, American, Virginian, Southern, White, Male. I’m a brother, son, boyfriend, employee, co-worker, volunteer, citizen, friend, neighbor. I have tastes, hobbies, stories, dreams, nightmares, hopes, goals. There’s no end to the ways we can describe ourselves, it seems. And it seems we like to do so!

A teacher told me once that there is 50% of me that I as well as others can know. Then there is 25% of me that I can know but others can’t know. And finally there is 25% of me that others can know but I can’t know. That sounds about right, don’t you think? Thankfully there is Someone who knows me completely, and loves me completely. In all and above all I’m a creation and child of God, as we all are. May God lead us to know more about ourselves, more about each other, and more about God. Amen.

God: Pastoral Care and Counseling Response Paper 2

What is your relationship to God?

What is my relationship to God? Prayer is my relationship to God. Jesus is my relationship to God. Love is my relationship to God. Grace is my relationship to God. Humility is my relationship to God.

Which is more difficult to describe: God, or my relationship with God? Does my relationship to God have more to do with who I am or with what I do? First and foremost, I suppose, my relationship to God has to do with God’s “character” and action.

I believe that, insofar as I exist, I am related to God. God created all things, including me, and God loves us all. God’s creative act and love keeps me in relation to Him, whether or not I want to be related to Him.

Beyond that, God invites me to intensify and make whole my relationship with Him. How so? Let’s pick three ways; God’s invitation is at least three-fold. God invites us into acceptance, awareness, and action.

God invites me to relate to Her by fully accepting Her love. This involves accepting myself, confessing all my sin, guilt, and shame, and accepting God’s forgiving love and grace. God wants me to be His son. We are all already God’s creation, beloved and cared for. God wants me to fully open my mind and heart to this. Accept God’s acceptance of me.

Once I’ve accepted God’s love, then I can begin to grow more and more aware of that love. Every moment, every situation, every conversation, every human interaction is an opportunity to become more aware of God’s love for me. I have no idea how this works; in fact it seems crazy at times, because not all of my experiences are good. Many are down right bad. And surely God doesn’t want terrible things to happen to me. But somehow, even in the darkest times, God wants to show me Her love. In every circumstance God invites me to grow in my awareness of His presence and love.

There are many ways I intentionally grow in awareness: prayer, worship, service, silence, fellowship, conversation, listening, observation of nature, study, Scripture; the list goes on. Is there anything that doesn’t open up as an opportunity to learn about God? To become more aware of God and Her love?

As I accept and become more aware of God’s love, I feel the call to participate in this love – to act out this love. That famous command from Micah – “…love mercy, do justice, and walk humbly with your God” is a great way to describe the action that flows from and contributes to awareness. Many of the activities I mentioned under awareness are as much in response to awareness as they are in anticipation of awareness.

Acceptance, awareness, and action – at the end of the day they are all one; they are all summed up in the love of God as taught and demonstrated by Jesus Christ. Jesus is not only the incarnation of God, he embodies my (and our) relationship with God. Jesus embodies God’s love for us and our acceptance, awareness, and action in response to God.

eternal life?

 

Somewhere I read a story about a Japanese Zen nun who, for many, many years, studied diligently under a Zen master. She faithfully meditated. She worked with the koans her master gave her. She committed herself to poverty and non-violence. She begged her rice and vegetables. She loved her life and her brother monks and sister nuns. But the years went by without satori. She emptied herself but found no breakthrough, no enlightenment. This nun and her story have been on my mind quite a bit lately.

I’m so grateful for my life at Richmond Hill. What more could a Christian want to experience? Each day I wake up to join in our community prayers. Each day I have clear opportunities to deny myself and follow Jesus through bookkeeping or cleaning bathtubs or staff meetings or mentoring or shaking hands with visitors or talking about the Kingdom of God coming in Richmond. Each day I find fellowship and joy with the remarkable people that live, work, and pass through here. Even on the most frustrating and trying of days, I see the fruits of the Spirit evident in the work of all the people and prayers that make up Richmond Hill. The semi-monastic model we have here has given me the supportive framework to begin to find my way in Christ’s way. Perhaps it’s because I so love being a student: the monastery has proven a most excellent school. There is always something new to learn, and there is always something old to remember.

But there is a fundamental virtue missing from my life. I don’t really know what it is or how to find it, yet somehow I know I’m missing it. I intuitively know a little bit about what it’s like. It tastes like freedom and feels like love. It looks like hope and sounds like faith. Sometimes I call it humility. All these spirit-words are of the same cloth, anyway, aren’t they? Maybe I should call this missing piece the “eternal” or “unbreakable” life.

Jesus repeatedly tells us that his instruction, lowliness, forgiveness, and love lead to this missing element, this essential understanding. Which begs the question: if I am following Jesus, why don’t I have this? How long before I experience this? Am I experiencing it now and simply misinterpreting my life?

Let’s return to the legendary Japanese nun. One of her daily tasks was to carry water for the community. She carried it in a bamboo bucket, which she lovingly cared for and repaired through the years. One clear night she was toting some water back from the well, and as she walked she periodically peeked down to catch the reflection of the moon undulating on the surface of the water. She cherished such moments of natural beauty. All of a sudden the old bottom of the old pail gave way and out whooshed the water onto her feet. Everything stood still, and her mind and heart where set free: satori! “No more water in the pail,” she exclaimed, “no more moon in the water!”