Blogcritics Author: Kristi Niedzwiecki

Announcement: Short-content feeds

Phillip Winn — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT

Sunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding.

Friday the 13th: A Lucky Day for Owen

Kristi Niedzwiecki — Wed, 15 Aug 2007 22:41:46 EDT

Fear of Friday the 13th, also known as paraskavedekatriaphobia, is still widespread in today’s society. Known as a day of doom and bad luck in western civilizations, this day has become taboo when it comes to planning any significant affairs, for example, the birth of a child. No, not everyone can plan their child’s birth to the day. But due to gestational size, I was lucky enough to know in advance the arrival dates of both my sons. And son number two was scheduled to be induced on - you guessed it - Friday the 13th. Of course I would have preferred another day, but I was happy to know that he was coming a week before his due date. The weather was getting hot and I felt very uncomfortable. My husband on the other hand, was not too keen on a Freaky Friday baby.What could be so bad about this day? Basically it stems from Christians wanting to suppress pagan goddess worship. Spiritual observer and psychic reader, Edward Shanahan discusses the history of Friday the 13th on his BlogTalkRadio program, The Unexplained World. Here are some of the facts he and his co-host Annette have compiled about the special day: • Friday the 13th is one of the most widespread superstitions• Both Friday and the number 13 have foreboding reputations dating back to ancient times• Many buildings have no 13th floor• Many cities have no 13th street• Chinese and Egyptian cultures considered 13 to be lucky• Friday is named for Freya or Frig, the Norse goddess of marriage and fertility and sex.• Friday the 13th is a sacred day in pagan goddess worship and became known as the witches Sabbath. Christians who wished to suppress this worship said the day was unlucky. • A month must begin on a Sunday for that month to have a Friday the 13th.David Emery of About.com sums it up:Unlucky Friday + Unlucky 13 = Unluckier Friday. If that's the case, we are guilty of perpetuating a misnomer by labeling Friday the 13th "the unluckiest day of all," a designation perhaps better reserved for, say, a Friday the 13th on which one breaks a mirror, walks under a ladder, spills the salt, and spies a black cat crossing one's path — a day, if there ever was one, best spent in the safety of one's own home with doors locked, shutters closed and fingers crossed. I wasn’t going to let a day and a number upset me. Something told me that this was written in the stars. This was the day he was to be born. So I didn’t fight it. If anything, this day would make him more special. On Friday, the 13th of July, I arrived at labor and delivery at 7:15a.m. (7+1+5=13). The nurse brought us to room 113. I marked that in my mental notes. After they broke my water and gave me pitocin, I endured about two hours of contractions which progressively became more intense. I was ready for my epidural. Once my pain was eased, I felt better than I had in the last nine months. I sat there with a huge grin on my face.1:30 p.m. arrived and I felt an intense pressure even through the numbness from the epidural. I told my husband to get the nurse because I felt like the baby was pushing out. At 1:40 we began delivery. And at 1:44 p.m. Owen Carmine came into the world without a peep. Can anyone ask for a better labor and delivery? Luck was in my corner.After some thought while lying in my hospital bed I put all the facts of the day together. I found out I was pregnant with Owen on November 13th. He is the 13th grandson on my side of the family. He was delivered in room 113, during the 13th hour of the 13th day of July. No longer will we think of dooming superstitions when it comes to the number 13. And Friday the 13th will always be a day of joy and blessing.

Curious about the spirituality, the supernatural, dreams, pasts lives, death? If so, then we have something in common and you are reading the right blog. I am no expert in any of the above; however, I have a deep fascination with them and will be exploring these subjects in future posts.

He Came to Tell Me

Kristi Niedzwiecki — Wed, 30 May 2007 04:48:43 EDT

“I have to go,” he said. This saddened me. I pleaded for him not to leave. However, my uncle, who had been dead for 14 years, insisted that he couldn’t stay. I awoke that morning knowing what I had to face.About two months before I had this dream, I dreamt about a chubby blonde baby boy. I held him in my arms as I stood in the house in which my mother lived as a child. To be exact, I was standing in what was once her brother’s bedroom. His name was James, but everyone knew him as Babe. I looked at the baby in my arms and recognized him from a photo I have. “Are you Babe?” I asked the infant. Of course he could not answer me, though in the dream it was somehow confirmed that he was indeed my Uncle Babe as a baby.Two weeks later I found out I was pregnant with my second child. I did not associate the dream with my new blessing right away. I chalked it up to a coincidence or a way of my mind healing my emotions in wanting a baby. As weeks passed I visited my obstetrician more than I could remember with my first child. The baby was not growing and we could not find a heartbeat.My next appointment was to be a consultation. For some reason I still had hope, but deep down inside I knew that the life inside me was not going to survive the pregnancy. Two nights before my appointment, I had the second dream of Uncle Babe. He was no longer a baby but an old man - the way I remembered him in life. He told me he had to leave.My fears were confirmed at my consultation. I either had to wait to miscarry or undergo a dilation and curettage procedure. After a week of waiting, I opted for the surgery. During the following months, I replayed the dreams in my mind again and again, in awe of their significance.Since childhood I tried to decipher my dreams. I can still recall the dreams I’ve had throughout the 34 years of my life. I’ve written many down, and could probably use some of them as subject matter for future novels. In my quest to find out their meanings, I have learned that dreams can serve as warnings. I have also heard and read about the dead visiting the living in dreams. Some may find a hard time believing in the latter. After the dream of my uncle, I believe it to be possible.

You Don't Have to Say Goodbye When Someone You Love Dies

Kristi Niedzwiecki — Sun, 20 May 2007 04:56:43 EDT

There is no magic word, action, or pill you can take to get you through the death of a loved one. Even time, which is said to heal all, will never totally take away the pain. It will dull it, help make things better, and allow us to become stronger. I've discovered something that helps more and is quicker than time. It has helped me and has given me a new perspective. It is an exercise to do during the grieving period, a crucial time in healing.Before I share, I would like to tell you a story.My Dad died last November from heart failure due to complications with stomach cancer. He had been through many storms with his health, and survived all but this one. Call it a daughter's intuition, but I knew it was his time. I'd been preparing myself for that day since 1985 when he had his first heart attack - 21 years of knowing daddy wasn't going to be around forever. I did my best to cherish every moment with him, but I didn't obsess about it. When he would fall ill, I knew he would get through those challenges. I also knew no matter how much I prepared myself it was going to be hard. There is never a right time to say goodbye.So don't. I recently finished the book Don't Kiss Them Goodbye by Allison Dubois, the woman who inspired the hit NBC Television Series Medium. I am now reading her second book, We Are Their Heaven. Whether you believe in one’s ability to communicate with the dead or not, Allison gives some great advice in her books.First, remember, “You have to fall apart so that you can rebuild yourself.” This is why the grieving period is so important. Allow yourself to cry, give yourself time to be sad, and don’t expect or demand yourself to be strong. Second, know that our loved ones never really leave us. If you believe in life after death or a place called heaven, this won’t be so hard to do. If you don’t, allow yourself to have an open mind, to consider the possibility and explore this belief further. Physically they leave us, spiritually they don’t. This is Allison’s main point.Another great statement she makes is, “The biggest compliment you can pay to people you have loved and lost is to keep a part of them alive in yourself, memorializing their significance.” Though I could go on quoting her, I will stop with the most important thing I learned from her books: “Anybody who has lost someone they love, has to find a new way of loving that person, since hugs and kisses are no longer an option.”How can we do this? Here is my exercise that I’ve learned with the help of Allison Dubois. When you wake in the morning, acknowledge they are with you. Say their name and talk to them aloud. This is easy to do for people who talk to themselves. I am one of those. When you partake in an activity you delight in, bring them with you simply by thinking of them as you enjoy that time. Better yet, do the things they used to love to do. My brother mows the lawn at my mom’s house, one of dad’s favorite pastimes. I eat salami sandwiches with asiago cheese or whatever else he used to enjoy eating, but toward the end couldn’t. My mom listens to baseball games on the radio. She could care less about baseball, but dad loved the game and it is her way of saying I love you still.These little things keep them with you. You don’t have to say goodbye. Live your life to the fullest while holding them in your heart so they may continue to experience life through you.Thanks, Allison.