Surface Earth

New York Times reports: The Risk to Children in Myanmar

I read this article today and it hit me, yes, of course, the children are not just lost, without loved ones to protect them, but now in a further position to be exploited.

What can we do?

Children are children without geographical boundaries.

All children are our responsibility to raise up, as we will be theirs, in our older years.

Resources:

Feed the Children

Unicef Organization

Bloomberg online

Save the Children

Global Giving

I share mine with you

I inadvertantly deleted beautiful comments when switching and administering my site!

Sorry guys!

Surface Earth is taking a time out.

Bless you one and all.

Namaste.

FoxNews, tongue in cheek, presents to us, or provides a channel to us, to hear a different perspective on Jesus’ alleged lineage.

Of course, I am only one reader, and hear sarcasm between the lines, as FoxNews reports on the Director, Paul Verhoeven’s, view and account of the possibility of Jesus’ lineage.

Now, I am not without sympthathy as to how such a view could be upsetting to untold millions, but if we are strong in our faith, then we can receive, process and decide for ourselves, yes? Different points of view, so long as they do not oppress, hurt, incriminate or falsely accuse, must be heralded, no?

So I think, Mr. Verhoeven’s views should at a minimum be reviewed with an open mind. Perhaps we could start with this objective viewpoint:

1. We know more today than we knew yesterday; and

2. We know less than we will tomorrow.

The other day driving to Court, I replayed the song: Let it Be from Across the Universe. Then I began to think of my routine prayers from childhood: Our Father and Hail Mary.

As I repeated the Hail Mary after several times, I began to smile, quite wide in fact, when I got to “Mother of God”. If Jesus is the Son of God and Mary is the mother of Jesus, then she is also the Mother of God?

Well, I enjoyed this hyperbole.

So when I see someone brave enough to come out and spin a different version on Jesus’ lineage, I say why not?

What’s the harm, really?

Faith begins and ends within each of us, the tenants are beautiful guidelines, but should never be used as the ultimate guidance on love or kindness and certainly, never used to oppress.

May the Divine bless all of you.

Namaste.

Life does not stop to hold us

We only grasp

Fingernails etched

Against the matrix

of continuing energy

The close of the night

Brings sweet sorrow

for

expectations

unmet

There is a cure

prepare

a shorter list

upon waking

I saw a sign this morning in front of a small church:

God forgets the past-

Imitate Him

I smiled.  How simple.  How profound.  If you do not naturally know how to forget the past, you can pretend you do. 

Wait, imitate?  what do they mean imitate?  how do I imitate “God”?  I don’t even know if God is pure light or someone that looks like me and you.  How do I imitate that which I can’t see?

Ah, I imitate the action.  But is it action or is it non-action when you forget the past?

I decided to vote in favor of action, because for many of us, forgetting the past is in fact action, it requires “something”, clearing our mind, focusing on a simple picture in our minds, but certainly, navigating ourselves from visiting past paths that cannot be changed.  The only thing you can do by visiting the past is effect the present and the next present and so on.

Ok, so I began to get a handle on this…then I thought “imitate”, as in copy?  I felt the need to look up the word imitate…not sure I really  understood.

Dictionary.com on “imitate” lead me to a variety of similar definitions, the majority of which referred to copying a person or image.

Well ok then, I was not feeling quite so foolish for my desire to look up the word imitate and take the simple six word message I saw earlier today and turn it into a voluminous meandering post.

As I continued to read the definitions, the word “act” jumped out at me, to strive to copy an act.

Ah………..long breath. 

Now, I can put this to rest, I can live with that interpretation of the word “imitate” and thereby live with the wording of the message.  I don’t know need to figure out what form God takes in order to follow the message.

So copying the Divine, I am presently, forgetting the past and signing off of the last few hours of thought.

I watch now on CNN, the explanation for keeping a plant within a temple to gain evidence for four years to have a case for prosecuting or stopping what many of us would call the abuse of children.

I digress, because it is not how I anticipated starting my post.

I am here now though, and will continue.

I hear:

“Why don’t many of these women (a/k/a children) run away”?

Well Larry, they don’t know what is outside of the walls. I mean no disrespect Larry, but please, when the world was flat, it was flat, to suggest otherwise was heresy. I still get looked at kind of funny when I suggest we may not be the only living beings in the universe/galaxy/dimensions of time.

So what am I going on about?

De-hu-man-i-za-tion.

Dehumanizing.

I need/want to understand how anyone does this, dehumanizes another. Perhaps, I need to be in their shoes. I prefer to not be, to be honest, who would want to live through that distorted, yet, real experience of the world?

I can tell you, we dehumanize, daily.

We get angry at people in traffic, not knowing why thery are oblivious or rushing, instead, probably calling them names.

We get angry when someone’s card doesn’t work in line at the foodstore.

We get mad when someone dares to question a price, (yeah, right, you kidding me? many more of us know, thirty cents makes a difference these days)

I get mad seeing these idiots in Texas abusing young women, and I want to know, when did the deception of reality, faith begin?

I no longer proscribe to any given religion, because I don’t believe in the one true, right religion, I only believe in the following:

dignity

compassion

love

respect

If that could be my religion, I could adhere to it, I cannot condemn, I cannot say other loving humans should not be saved, etc., etc., etc.

I know, we all contribute to what I call de-humanization.

What I want to know is, will we contribute to stopping this societal nightmare?

Slumber
Envelops me
Its knotty
Gnarled veins
Disguised
As time
Creeping
Slithering
Tip
Tip
Toeing
As
Otherwise mine

Soft
Velvet
Fingers tracing
The Navaho existence
Of the planes
Of my
Cheeks
Standing
Against the sky

Except

When

They

Don’t

Falling
Pray
Prey
To this
Mortal
Immortal
Existence
Playing bingo
With time

You must have heard them, haven’t you?

The almost, indescribable sounds of night.

Not the ones that keep you waiting on your next breath,

the ones removed,

silent,

peacefully exhaling.

You wonder sometimes,

how it can be,

that the same darkness

can breed such separate sets of emotion,

but it happens,

doesn’t it?

Just like in the day.

I was touched this evening,

very touched,

by words in a book,

I found,

in a dollar store today.

I mean no disrespect to the author,

paying such a slight amount.

Is it an excuse that it is all the vendor asked

and I did not bargain down further?

Without further ado, I share:

“Don’t you know she is the one who came out of her mother’s womb, leaving her mother dead?

Do you know who brought her from the hospital? Her mother’s brother, who didn’t even cry that night. Not one teardrop? No.

Unknown to them, you see what they say.

Will you keep your back turned, angry and hurt? Or will you put on a smile, walk straight into their waiting arms, into their trap of pity? I don’t know.

All I know is that in this city of twelve million, if six or seven, even ten people, say words that hurt, they are a speck in the ocean. Wait for a while, the moon will slide into the right place, the clouds will gather, there will come a tide and with it a wave that will wash this speck away.”

-The Blue Bedspread, by Raj Kamal Jha

I say to you then, namaste, in your deepest moments of the night, “the moon will slide into the right place.”

I have seen

the bottom

of tomorrow

it looks

not much

different

than

today

God’s Vision

Is only limited

by the sight

of our own eyes

The sweet smell of freedom

the chorus

of unrehearsed melody

Today,

I had a day “off”

I sifted through “old” writings

I sifted through “old” drawings

and

I threw them out

I feel lighter.

Tranquility

creeps

the ivy on the vine

forgotten

but for a few

the car travelling

an unknown path

feet taking

around a corner

the eye

willing to see

what was not seen before

but tranquility

ah

it almost pardons itself

excuse me,

is this seat taken?

I want to tell you

how the sun looks

against the trees

tonight

I actually

love you

my loyal readers

so much

i ran outside

but picked the camera

without a card

I wanted

you to see

what I see

the horizon

of the end

of today

against tomorrow

and

I wanted

to get that for you

a glimpse

because that is often

all it is

namaste

my friends

may you brighten

the moments

of those

you walk

across

Do you ever wonder,

why you are here?

In blogland?

Is that even a word, blogland?

I sit in the spaces,

of the music tonight,

Sarah McLaughlin playing,

I could not find the other cds I wanted to hear,

it does not make her unworthy,

but perhaps,

timely.

Did I tell you the story?

Once upon a time,

there was a little girl,

she was too big,

yet too small,

she set off for school,

on one of those buses,

you know,

the yellow ones,

she couldn’t reach the first step,

but refused the help of her family,

the bus driver reached down,

across three ascending steps,

a hand,

and grabbed her,

into tomorrow.

He reached,

and she held,

and she stepped,

into the time,

that was not defined.

She was gone.

She spent the days after,

sometimes,

well,

maybe only once,

being forgotten,

on the very front seat of the bus,

the one behind the driver,

reflected in that big mirror,

but not seen,

the littlest one,

there that day,

into the bus pulled into the yard,

and someone,

a stranger,

found her,

unaccounted for….

she arose the next day,

nonetheless,

and got back up those stairs,

without a hand that time,

she did not want one.

She got off the bus,

the right stop this time,

and at three,

or was it four,

she remembered,

the sun playing across the cement,

the butter in her hand,

eaten,

without the excuse of bread.

The way the sun

sat upon the world,

not asking,

but,

saw.

And in this moment,

this fresh, new Spring,

she wonders,

if the girl,

will have her back.

Don’t criticize yourself

there may already

be

a long line

of people

behind you

unable themselves

to look within the mirror

I turned my head

And You were gone

I hear sounds around the realm of me

I don’t know what they are

What You are doing

Yet

I claim

To know You

Better than anyone

But I can’t feel

What would happen

If we surrendered

To the world around us

If we hung our heads

And just admitted

That it was not for us to see

But since

We don’t know

It’s not then pretend,

is it?

I make rules

And regulations

On Your speech

When I defend others

Whose rules?

Not Jesus

I lift from my seat typing those six letters

Lord hear me

If I could explode the world would tremble

If I gave even a percentage

Of what happens inside of me

Even witnessed a moment

Of how

I want to scoop

Up the pain

In the world and tend to it

A gardener

In an untended basket

I want my hat pulled low

My brim to the Earth

I want to bow in thanks

I want to dance

And tell You

Celebrate

When my feet hit Your contours

I want to say

I am sorry for being ashamed

Of

Being alive

I am sorry

I apologize for who I am

that would bow

to You

Yet

kiss the dandelion

peeking out

between the cement slabs

The Lord God

is beautiful

He lives within

the valley of my days

He stands

watches

and wrings His hands

as I

set the water to warm

fingers crossed

and stuff

the sink

with a handtowel

as the stopper

stopped long ago

as I take one of ten

of a pack

worn

and sink them into the water

and two of four

of a pack

and sink them

too

and

rub

the Dove

I wish organic

soap

beneath the trickle

and say

how wonderful

how divine

I have withstood time

I have taken

the necessities

of a woman in business

and parceled them to

and

within

a value pack

and have further

elongated

the value

beneath my tap

I have laid

the efforts of my days

against the cracked

tile of the tub

and

have thrown

in

upon

within the graying water

the rest that

keeps me whole

setting it

wringing

it

along the path

of my legs

my feet

that raise

me

each

day

So, guess what?

I have been blessed.

I am (in part) a litigation attorney.

Today, I need to work, despite my preference to go out and place bread and apples among the trees, my offering to nature on Good Friday.

So be it, I will find time later.

In the midst of working, I need a favor, some documents e-mailed. The other attorney has her assistant respond. She responds professionally and quickly on this day that many offices and the Courts are closed.

She signed her e-mail, the salutation, “Peace & Blessings”.

Oh yes, God spoke to me today.

How exciting to see such a sign off in the litigation world.

I responded of course: Namaste.

I have been blessed today and I offer it up to all of you, we can crawl from beneath the rocks and send peace and blessings in our everyday and our otherwise work/professional communities.

I said to my husband the above.

He said, and what would you have done if she said: Praise be to Allah?

I said: God has many names.

He reminded me of a conversation he had with a taxi driver, sometime ago, when he was discussing faith and religion and said:

“God is good in every language”.

Now you must know, this morning in my head, in between the spaces of law, I have been writing a piece (in my head) on the Divine and foreign languages.

Synchronicity?

Blessings in Abundance!

I’m reading now Anderson Cooper’s, Dispatches from the Edge, A Memoir of War, Disasters, and Survival.

I find it surprisingly self-effacing.  I want to share with you a short piece therein that spoke to me (pp. 103-104):

“Here they treat the worst cases first.  That’s what TV wants as well.  The illest, the greatest in need.  It’s a sad selection process that happens in your head.

‘That child’s bad, but I think we can find worse,’ I say to myself, deciding whose suffering merits time on TV.  You tell yourself it’s okay, that your motives are good — at the moment you might even believe it.  But later, alone, lying in bed, you go over the day and feel like a fraud.  Each child’s story is worthy of telling.  There shouldn’t be a sliding scale of death.  The weight is crushing.

They die, I live.  It’s such a thin line to cross.  Money makes the difference.  If you have it, you can always survive, always find a place to stay, something to eat.  For the first few days in Maradi, I’m not even hungry.  It’s not just the heat, the dust.  I’ve become disgusted with myself.  My body fat, my health, my minor aches and pains.  I brought with me a bagful of food — cans of tuna and Power Bars — but the thought of eating anything makes me want to throw up.  That changes, of course.  After a couple days I forget why I’m depriving myself.

They die, I live.  It’s the way of the world, the way it’s always been.  I used to think that some good would come of my stories, that someone might be moved to act because of what I’d reported.  I’m not sure I believe that anymore.  Once place improves, another falls apart.  The map keeps changing; it’s impossible to keep up.  No matter how well I write, how truthful my tales, I can’t do anything to save the lives of the children here, now.”

You must know,

when I started here,

at beloved wordpress,

I had no clue what was meant by a MEME,

by what it meant to be tagged for one.

I have now enjoyed many,

although like Ronnie,

have never felt compelled to respond,

simply to respond,

rather the senders,

somehow sensed,

it was right for me.

And so it went.

So now, I introduce one from S.E.

It is simple,

and,

hopefully,

pure.

List 5-10 things of commanility that you have in common with the human race and/or nature.

List 5-10 things that you may have in common with the human race and/or nature.

Most of all,

peace among us.

S.E.’s Commanality MEME:

In common:

1. We breathe

2. We eat (I think, jury is still out on this one)

3. We sleep

4. We awake

5. We love

6. We worry

7. We battle perception

8. We have inherited Society

What we may have in common…

1. We judge

2. We perceive

3. We protect

4. We struggle

5. We love

6. We laugh

7. We hope

8. We dream

9. We wish for something “bigger” than ourselves

***Kindly send back, I want to see the evolution……….

On deck:

Ronnie

Grace

Everyone else, join in, leave a comment, e-mail me at surfaceearth@gmail.com or ping away.

Peace, blessings and healing light to all who enter here.

Namaste.

See?

Hear?

Feel?

I don’t end.

It hit me like a ton of bricks tonight, an 18 wheeler when I was looking left rather than right.

I simply
Do
Not end.

I can give you verbatim
Transcripts
Of this ordinary; yet, unusual mind of mine
Or I can stay silent
And give
Pieces
Bait at the
End of the string_

Regardless,
I remain
As
Do
You.

Meme, again?

What six words define me? If you are anything like me, often beyond definition even to yourself, there is only one way to do this….what six words define me in the moment of that thought?

Let me give you the outline of the meme and then my answer:

Here are the rules:

1. Write your own six word memoir.
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
3. Link to the person who tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the web.
4. Tag five more blogs with links.
5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

My six word memoir:

The dawn before the day remains.

Now tagging….

1. Ronnie at Outofmyhead

2. Gypsyheart

3. Tumel

4. Sorrow

5. Tobeme

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFHjUzEk0iI&rel=1]

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQNpEET9WqQ&rel=0&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=0]

He was given

two hands

on which to count

to hold

to grasp

On one

he counted

the injustice

of

the favors

unreturned

The other

lay empty

waiting

for

return

I sit

feet beneath me

crawled into

the depth of a chair

I sit

knowing

God

is somewhere

on the edge of my being

I falter

hanging on

fingers on the edge

wondering

how hard

I should hold on

I want

to send you a picture

a sketch

a charcoal

sketched against

off white

rough paper

to show you

what my words mean

but I lack the materials

and the time

in this moment

***

I sit on the edge of the universe

my faery feet

flying

into the foam of the ocean caps

I dip

my toes

the toes I sometimes

dip

dip

dip

I dip them in

those little things

I dip them in and out

do you see them now?

those five points

dipped in foam?

those happy

little

digits

sprayed against the

horizon of the sky

against the epicenter

of the unknown?

****

I sit

on the edge

of a moss covered rock

I dip

my toes

into the clear

clear

clear waters of a meandering stream

I watch what I think

are the

never moving rocks

the pebbles

watching the

water go by

I dip and dip again

****

My faery feet

I see them well

I never asked

I never told

just a little one

a wee one

they said

so

spry

so slight

when they sucked my breath

I didn’t

know how to say

no

You have asked me

In no uncertain terms

To broker a deal

Against a sky with no moon

I have sifted

The moments of my time

Against the hourglass

Never fashioned

I bowed my head

Never

Only once

And allowed the definition

Ok regular readers…you know I always change templates, it’s like moving furniture. I need to give this a go and see what’s what…I will go back to the original format (huh? which one is that?), but in the meantime, let’s try out the new WP format.

Jump on over, the water’s fine….Update:  Humanitarian News Update

Quadriplegic man about to be booked for “fleeing”?

Reading the story reveals a photo of an officer dumping the man from his wheelchair as he was about to be booked. I am wondering, was he still fleeing?

Come on, give me a break. What, did Jimmy Neutron design the wheelchair? Attempt to elude an officer? Ok, ok, I know nothing about the officer attempting to arrest him, he may have been “speed-challenged”.

Onward:

High frequency devices drive children from stores: UK

Limbaugh as McCain’s best asset (pay attention to first three letters, he’s not doing McCain a favor)

Ok, ok, I’m just playing, but I really don’t know whether to laugh or cry when I see the headlines on the news. I understand why Polar is banning television in the campaign.

Take a look at any of the major news media sites, look at the margins, the size of the pages, what they decide is the headline news for a planet filled with billions.

Go ahead, tread lightly, you may not come back the same.

I woke up this morning,

storm clouds brewing outside,

and in that moment before my waking self realized I was awake,

a song was singing in my head,

and I say singing,

because it was a chorus of voices ringing out….

“Rise and Shine….and give God your glory, glory!  Rise and Shine…and give God your glory, glory….Rise and Shine and give God your glory, glory, children of the …(Lord?  World?  Earth?  No, scratch that, go with one of the first two.)

So there I am with this song blaring in my otherwise semi-unconscious mind looking out at tree limbs and storm clouds and believing it is Saturday…..yet, despite this lack of lucidity (hmmm, lack?) the song persisted.

Then it hit me after a few refrains….I hadn’t thought or heard of the song since I was a kid at camp sleeping in the woods in platform tents.  Where had that memory been hiding?  Had it been snatched from the Universe circling around on its way to the Recycle Bin?  Was it pre-programmed to kick start some part of myself that had been dormant?

Regardless it’s back and it’s still blaring in my mind, yes, right in the background even as I type these words to you.  And the cool part is, we used to see who could be the loudest singing and stamping our feet during that song, so I’ve got a whole singing stampede heralding me through the day!

Today, sing as loud as you can and stamp those feet, raise your arms up and live!

Greetings fellow citizens.

My name is Surface Earth.

I welcome you this evening to improve my life and my future income.

See, if you vote for me,

My ego will inflate,

My social circle will inflate,

And down the road,

I can make lots and lots of money from that,

And,

Have friends in power to give me tax cuts,

So even though shopping for food, gas, homes may be difficult for you,

I will be in good stead.

And oh yeah?

“God bless America!”

Have you heard me lately?

I think the old me, may need to be recycled.

I still call you Lord.  And no, I don’t think it’s simply habit, I think it is recognition.

Yet, I know you don’t judge.  Not me, not yourself, not anyone.

I wish to emulate the fluid peace I resonate on hearing, My Lord, within my head, or is it within a place I do not yet know?

I believe, there is more to be seen, heard and known, than we can yet incorporate as third dimensional beings.

Thank you.  I’m still on the journey.

Peace.

Yesterday I heard a commotion.

I was unsure as to what the sounds were. Yes, I presumed the noise to be birds but I could not identify what was going on. I stopped and listened and heard separate cadences.

Then, I saw a raven chase my hawk out of its tree. They swooped, I thought they might go within an inch of my head, but they didn’t. I was mesmerized because the day before, I walked out the door and a sea of birds flew over my head, like a symphony, defining my view of the sky. I ran for the camera, the new batteries I put on were on the blink. So I stood and watched.

This came back to me as I watched the raven chase the hawk, and saw two of the raven’s friends in the background. Bodyguards? They chased that hawk right out of the safe haven of the tree it fled too. Later that day I took the bread I could no longer find a recipe for to mask or revive the staleness. so I took some bags and went outside and placed piles of ripped bread upon the ground in different gathering places.

Today, again, the three ravens sat. I could not see them at first: caw, caw, caw. Space. Silence. Caw, caw, caw.

One sat within the tree, the other joined and the last swooping above on its way.

I went out later. No sign of them. In my head I repeated: caw, caw, caw. I turned the corner and there the leader sat, and repeated it back to me.

Resources on Ravens:

Raven, by Susan Morgan Black

Symbols of the Saints

Heather Blakey on Squidoo: Ravens

Integral Options Cafe: Raven

There is never a moment

I do not feel

The fleeting joy

Of the smile of your face

The curves of your cheeks

The lift to your eyes

For whatever else

We have been born to

It is not the promise

Of an earthly tomorrow

Miss. Harleyquinn tagged Sorrow who tagged me.

Now, I never feel obligated to do the “tag” thing or the “meme” thing; however, certain ones I enjoy, this one I like for its random ability to build community. Oh yeah, also because I love books.

Here goes:

Rules:

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

Nearest book: The Expected One by Kathleen McGowan.

Page 123….picking up book….looking for 123….at page 123, going to the fifth sentence…(hmmmm, not fifth line, fifth sentence. If the page starts in the middle of a sentence, does that count as the first one? Intuitively guided, I will now make my own rules and say yes.)…..on to type the next three sentences….

“Maureen didn’t want to risk that. Sinclair was too important a piece of her puzzle.

Peter eased the rental car from the road and through the enormous iron gates.”

Now, just in case my interpretation of counting sentences is off, I offer you the other version:

“Maureen didn’t want to risk that. Sinclair was too important a piece of her puzzle.

Peter eased the rental car from the road and through the enormous iron gates. Maureen noted as they passed that the gates were decorated with large gold fleurs-de-lis intertwined with vines of grapes–or, perhaps, blue apples.”

TAG……………

gypsy-heart

enreal

tumel

soulmeetsworld

the naked soul: tobeme

Warning:  not for the faint hearted.

I have a spiritual household.

By that I mean, anything goes.

You can believe,  you cannot believe, you can have no opinion…but the idea, the gossamer whisper of faith and the beyond, will meet you at every turn.

I believe, just so you know, (little foreshadowing there), that the Virgin Mary, Mother Mary, Azna, has a sense of humor.

I believe this because I think she does not have an ego and therefore does not have the same scale, weight to taking herself seriously.

Tonight, in the kitchen, a few of the kids and I were kidding around, mimicking, being silly.  They ran down the hall and I heard one imitating me, saying, Oh, Blessed Mary.

Well, considering the laughter had taken the place of the call to clean moments before, I took things into my own hand.

I grabbed my little figure of Mary, (without hands I am afraid, the youngest, well, it’s a long story, suffice to say he thought he was helping both me and Mary), and the cheap carved nativity scene (one piece, all in one, carved out for better handling), — wait I digress.  See, I always wanted one of those really big loud life-like yard/lawn nativity scenes.  You know, the kind you could step up to, sit with, have a chat, move them around:  in other words, total control  of the beginning Biblical scenes.  So this little carved out piece, well, it was put up for Christmas and didn’t come down because well, it was modified control on my part.

So there I am, Mary without hands in one hand, (no-no pun intended) and the nativity scene in the other, and I ran down the hall, and chased my children up the stairs, yelling, sinners, repent, clean, clean, clean.

Suffice to say, it only resulted in more laughter.

But it made me think, I truly believe in my heart, in my soul, in my older, wiser and often buried intelligence, that Mary has a sense of humor.

Other sources in the belief religion, faith and Mary may in fact have a sense of humor:

Looking for Mary, Beverly Donofrio

Anne Lamott, pick any book

How quickly do we fall from grace?

What does it take for us to push another from the seat of grace?

There are times in life I have fallen from grace, either in my own opinion or in the opinion of someone else.

There are times in life I have pushed someone from the seat or cradle of grace.

The why to me is no longer important.  The why is because, because it happened, because it was a proscribed or learned mind-set, because, because, because.

There are triggers that go off before we attempt to let someone fall from grace or to push them from that natural state.  There may be an addictive surge of heightened emotion, a marshalling of the ego, a quick pain in the stomach, a headache, something that is other than pleasure and truly a natural state of being from the heart.

If you know your own triggers, when you are about to set the trap, create the lair to draw another in, to bring them down…chances are you can stop in the very moment and cause a non-occurrence.  You can choose how to treat another human being.  Conversely, you can choose whether you allow yourself or another to cause the illusion of your fall from grace.  When you begin to hear the self-critical voice, when your body and its energy begin to delete, almost slouch, when there is simply too much noise in your head…recognize that which is not natural is occcurring.

The quickest way to return to the natural state of love is to breath.  When we are in the natural state of love, we do not allow anyone’s fall from grace, including ourself, it is not even a recognizable concept or desired action.

Even if it is only for a moment.  Take a breath in through your nose, feel your stomach move and then slowly, slowly exhale, focusing on your stomach breathing out again.  This moment creates a barrier while at the same time allowing a flow of loving energy to return within and around you.

Namaste.

I watched two different witnesses today.  Lovely, credible women.

Both had different mannerisms.

The first at times looked down, scanning her memory, trying to find a recollection.  At times, she looked up, staring.

Where in fact was she looking to access memory?

The second was slow and steady, reigning in emotion, she didn’t flick her eyes as much, seeming to know or have pre-decided what she knew and what she didn’t.  Was that a veil?  A curtain of forgetfulness?

Watch people as they try to remember.

Watch what their eyes do.

Watch where they try to look for the information.

Fascinating.

Justice Denied

She remembered the day clearly, looking up on the wall and seeing a D+ on the line next to her name for Constitutional Law. She also remembers years later seeing that same professor in Passaic County, Chancery Division.

She remembered his almost bald head on his too thin frame, smug, supporting the public interest group that would bring democracy to the mountain. She knew in that moment the right answer to his mantra.

But it was years before that, he said to her, “You’re like a monkey on my back.” And she sat there staring at some cheap print of constitutional parameters sitting on the wall, looking at this man who had placed a D+ on her efforts. She packed up her book bag, slammed her blue locker and called her father and told him that was it, she was leaving. And why not? Why wouldn’t he understand? When she handed him the entry she had done of the suicide note narrative, submitted after typed at 3:0O a.m. at the urging of her roommate, “there’s a fiction contest, deadline’s in the morning, submit something.” So she sat at the computer, a dot matrix printer, and typed a two page note and put it in an envelope and her roommate took it and placed it in a slot. A short time later she received a call, she had received second place. Only she knew that she hadn’t really tried. Then again, maybe she had, maybe she just let it go.

She stood in the kitchen of her father’s home sometime later, facing the end of her college stint, and showed her Dad the piece she had written that got a second place, her father read it and said, “Anyone can practice law, not anyone can do this.” He encouraged her to get a Masters in Creative Writing or Journalism, but she didn’t. Now it was eleven years later plus three years of law school, plus one year off, ok, so it was fourteen years, and she still had done nothing about it.

She was an idea girl without definition, she could complete nothing. She liked to believe it was because she saw all the sides of the same story, and on a good day, a charitable day, that would line up and be true but within the parameters of normal society, that would be procrastination, the inability to complete, to have true vision, to see and produce.

So she packed up her bag and was ready to head to the train station, the rest of her grades were absolutely fine for the first semester where she was one of the only day law students actually working on what was perceived as a cutting edge law brief of economic loss rather than sitting there and reading her text during the study break before first semester finals. The overnight stints at the diner with the student drunks were an afterthought.

She picked up the phone in the hall before heading out, managing to actually get her father on the phone, she wonders today how much he remembers, does he remember what she does? But she pictured him there, behind the glass topped desk, set on a slight angle, flanked by two windows in a nondescript but expensive town out in the boondocks as other lawyers would later describe it and rue the day they had. Had by the country bumpkin. But she saw him there, his cuffs still battling with his wrists, fasted tight by cuff links, he had not as yet lost the gold plated Mickey Mouse cuff links she and her brother had bought him on a long ago trip to Disney World, so she saw him sitting there, pages thrown in front of him, lines holding, other attorneys at that time working for him, hanging on his word, envious and contemptuous at the same time, they knew they didn’t have his essence but wanted to be around him all the same, and she saw the secretary, one of them walk in to get his attention, waiting silently as he pontificated on the phone, gesturing, she must not have had to try so hard because after all he actually picked up the line, she wasn’t put on eternal hold, told to try again later. She told him, choking, to the master, the man who aced night law school with two small children working in a garden apartment and working three jobs, part-time in Newark without gloves in the dead of winter following the Newark Riots, a white man sent to do was it a dirty or a clean job, he had a breifcase full of checks. It is only now she realizes that she never asked him if they were given what they were due. He reached for the phone and there she sat captured, how would life panned out if she had not dialed him first as she always did? Years later, faced with an even more prophetic situation, his wisdom she would regret to the end of her days when she felt he was more than human and had all the answers. She would wonder how life would have played out differently if she could have stood on her own two feet. If she could have blown air into the soles of her Doc Martens-if she could have for a moment pretended she was Marilyn Monroe and not cared who watched. But she called him as she did then and continued to do for more than a decade until she realized it was no longer fair to either of them.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“I got my grades.”

“And?”

“I got a D in constitutional law.”

“How about the rest?”

“I did fine.”

“Ok, it’s first semester, this is what the books are written about, it happens.”

“I’m leaving this isn’t for me, I’m going.”

“No,don’t.”

“But you don’t understand, a D, I did the best I could, I studied, I was interested.”

“No, you don’t understand yet, it’s subjective.”

“Subjective?”

“It depends what mood he’s in, what’s going on.”

“What?”

“A D is not a D, a D is only a reflection of a moment.”

Ok so that’s not how he actually said it, but that’s how I now take it to mean… is that I was no Lady Liberty, torn between the law of liberty and the perversion of truth.

Ok, ok, so now what? I want to leave, I don’t fit in here, yes, I listened to you, I didn’t shave my head like I wanted to before entering law school, you said, wait, you will be different enough.

I did not yet understand the mortar of those walls, the pacts made between generations to keep the money in the family no matter what the means, I should have understood, we were not wealthy, we were not poor, we were that weird blend of still new Irish immigrants that knew what it was to come from nothing.

So I agreed with him, I didn’t walk down to the Peninsula of Newark, that strange hub where the trains come and come and leave from anywhere and everywhere with a whole race of people, generations stuck in place with millions traveling through, finding a way in and out when the others sat there in rot with dashed dreams, graduate programs, languages, wealthy families and friends left behind. Now they had the concrete, the dirty sidewalks, the people who had so despaired that they could not even respect those that lived with them, on the same streets, sharing the same fates because none of them wanted to to resemble their neighbor.

So I agreed. I would not take the train back to Hoboken or the City, I would not. I would put my books back in the locker, “locker”, oh, I would put my books back in the locker and agree to go see my professor.

Postcript-

He asked me why I was a monkey on his back.

I had the sheer pleasure of kicking his and his colleagues’ butts years down the road.

Ok, I’m a semi-veg girl….so, note, this piece will be slanted.

CNN reports, FDA approves cloning 

Ok, let me think this one through.

Now instead of having “live” farms of “food” we will have cloned farms of food.

I suspect this should not bother me.

Unless, I believe there are souls involved in the process of cloning.

Oh yes,

let me step back,

I might have to go on a limb,

and say,

there are souls involved in meat consumption.

Stutter,

stutter,

pause,

back,

ok,

whatever.

So,

let’s suppose,

animals

have souls,

let’s suppose,

if,

we clone them,

the clones  then too have souls.

what then are we ingesting?

do we really,

truly,

wonder why

the crows

or turkey buzzards

would have their

way

with us

when it is

simply

what we have done to them?

Outside of the box:

The Island

Never Let Me Go 

I don’t most days know
What
The answer is
Or what
The answers
May be.

I do know
Though
That you
Have to keep on getting on.

There isn’t any easy exit
From this
Unasked entrance.

You
Have
To
Breath
And be
Because anything less
Is not as much
As you deserve.

If I take a moment

And affix upon you

My battered eyes

I will not see

If I take a moment

And

Reclaim

The eyes I used

As a child

Then

I will see

You

As you

See me

This wonderful woman, blogger, tarot girl….DoveLove.…has hit me with my ultimate enjoyment….books….

I copy here, somewhat inartfully, her post regarding tagging and books and life and love.

Let’s see what I can do…..

By Dove, www.TarotwithLove.com Found this little exercise here while blog surfing, so I thought I’d give it a go…

=====================================

01. One book that changed your life

=====================================

OK, IT’S ME HERE, S.E., ONE BOOK THAT CHANGED MY LIFE? ONE…………….OW, THAT HURTS, THERE HAVE BEEN SEVERAL HUNDRED, BUT LET ME GO WITH THE GUT…SIDDHARTHA…………..

================================================

02. One book that you’ve read more than once

============================

MORE THAN ONCE? I REALLY HATE THAT. I HAVE AN EMBARGO GOING IN THAT DIRECTION, BUT MY FIRST WOULD BE THE SAME AS NUMBER ONE: SIDDHARTHA….AND SILK AND MANY MANY BOOKS BY ELLEN GILGRIST. I’M GOING FROM THE GUT HERE, TYPOS BE DARNED.

===================================

03. One book you’d want on a desert island

==============================

ONE BOOK I WOULD WANT ON A DESERT ISLAND? THIS IS TOUGH. I TROLL THROUGH BARNES AND NOBLE AND INDEPENDENT BOOK STORES LOOKING FOR THAT TITLE AND I DON’T HAVE IT YET, I DON’T….I WOULD BE WRITING WORDS IN THE SAND, ROCKING ON MY HEELS AND PROBABLY TALKING TO THE CLOUDS CREATING MY OWN.

==================================

04. Two books that made you laugh

=================================

EASY….SOPHIA KINSELLA….SHE IS A GEM AND ALWAYS MAKES ME LAUGH AND DARN IT, SHE PUBLISHED MORE THAN TWO BOOKS.

=================================

05. One book that made you cry

=================================

ONE BOOK THAT MADE ME CRY? HALLMARK MAKES ME CRY. A PLAINTIVE BIRD ALONE ON A BRANCH MAKES ME CRY. ONE BOOK THAT MADE ME CRY…PERHAPS THE ONE I HAVEN’T PUBLISHED.

=======================================

06. One book that you wish had been written

==================================

EASY: HOW LOVE CURES ALL.

========================

07. One book that you wish had never been written

ANYTHING FOCUSING ON HATE.
======================================

===================

08. Two books you’re currently reading

HAHA: THE REINCARNATION OF EDGAR CAYCE AND THE PHARMACY OF THE SOUL.

============================

===================

09. One book you’ve been meaning to read

UM, THE BIBLE?

========================

==============================

10. Okay, I’m gonna try this taggin thing, but since I’ve been getting the number 3, I’ll do 3

===========================

Muse, CV, SurfaceEarth

ANYONE WHO WANTS TO JOIN IN. MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALWAYS. PEACE TO YOU DOVE LOVE.

==

It comes down now-or should I say they?

Dropping,
Washing,
Pouring,
Filtering,
The end of my day.

The resevoir of sound
Coats and soothes
This otherwise me
Willing it to turn to snow.

To awake at five in the morning
Tomorrow
To rush to the window
On the tip
Of
My toes
To hold
And waiver there
Here
Peeking
Leaning
Into the glass
Of the
Next moment.

Taken from another day…..strolling through drafts……..

Did you ever want to expand a moment?

Hold on to it?

Let it linger?

I have.

I do.

Sometimes, I open my refrigerator and decide I can make something with whatever is inside. I call this, the long moment. The long moment (or short) of seeing what is or isn’t in the refrigerator. I try to stop myself from thinking what would happen if the world as we know it stopped tomorrow and my underground shelter was not stocked….with that blockade in mind…I proceed.

The Long Now….

Open the refrigerator…look around (sorry, I’m a veg kind of girl, but if you’re not, you are more than welcome to throw in your meat at anytime…)

Grab some Veg broth, I used some organic tonight, but it was a bit heavy, roasted vegetable taste almost, so I added 8 oz of some alleged pure water

of course, a bit of sea salt and ground pepper

set a frying pan with water

walked away

now what?

ok, celery, zucchini, carrots, red peppers, squash, tomatoes, parsley, arugala…hmmm……

back to the pot, hmm, veg broth smelling kind of strong….quick take the two left over tomatoes, chop and dice and throw in as I go, little more sea salt and pepper….

oooo, garlic and red onion, set another small pan, add some olive oil, heat, simmer, waaaaaaaa-la! simmer, simmer, simmer…

big frying pan with water still trying to boil, no lid in house to top it, so it’s gonna be slow and affect the recipe….

back to the counter and looking at the vegs….

ok, The Long Soup.

I decide to cut strips and start with the celery, throw it in as I go….

nope, pasta water still not boiling…

I cut carrots very long, throw in…..

pasta water still not boiling….

sea salt and ground pepper…..bit of crushed up parsley…..

oooohhhhh, red pepper, slice long and throw in as I go….

hmmm, garlic, can’t slice it long, but can pretend with oval slivers….

this is the Long Now Soup,

no noise,

no tv….

just creating…..

smell the soup….

Wow, must have to cook longer something is definitely off,

young child walks in,

decides to throw in the long pasta (spaghetti, etc.) into the pan pre-full boil.

Ok, let’s go with it.

Let the pasta begin to boil.

1/4 red onion left, slice….and throw in.

I feel like I’m in a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Next?

Pasta nowhere near ready.

Hmmm.

Small glass of red wine for the cook?

Back to the drawing board.

Nope, don’t want the yellow squash nor the green zucchini, just not fitting with the long look today.

Stare again.

Lift lid.

Salt, pepper. Oh yeah, another small long sliced glove of garlic.

Ah.

Pasta off pan. Strained.

Now what?

Tried to tie it in knots to lightly fry to float on soap. Wrong pasta. Would sink to bottom. Hmm, open fridge, left over vegetable pureed broth in fridge, slosh into frying pan, add argula, garlic and red onion previously simmered, throw a baking pan over the top since there is no matching lid.

Walk away.

Come back.

Now what?

Lift lid to soup pot.

Smell.

Slightly bland.

Throw in contents of pan.

Close lid on soup pot.

Walk away.

Return to sprinkle with small amounts of ground pepper and sea salt to taste.

Oh yeah, I smashed the long spaghetti into smaller pieces, but still arguably long pieces before throwing in the pot.

Walk away.

Come back.

Hmmm, still not quite right.

Rifle through holiday basket given from italian deli, 28 oz can of whole peeled italian tomatoes, throw in, walk away.

Come back and mash.

Repeat several times: also: sea salt and ground pepper to taste.

The Long Now.

It’s still simmering.

Who says you can’t elongate time?

I had a dream two nights ago and recalled when I awoke that there was a jaguar. I’m not sure how or when I recalled more, maybe within the dream itself.

A black jaguar was suddenly near me, upon me, and I had to wrestle the jaguar, subdue her and the only thing I could do in the end was place my hand or was it only a finger within her mouth to keep her from biting. I looked around, where would I bring her? If I released her would others be harmed, I seemed to look out a door into a vast outside world, searching for a place, or perhaps for help.

Yet, I am not sure how much my “waking” consciousness shaped this dream. I felt a battle of wits, I felt she (was it he?) was in essence more powerful, but allowed me to use my mind or spirit to subdue her. It was a wrestling match no doubt. As even in my dream, I had no idea how to tame the power of the jaguar without hurting her; yet, it was not an option, to hurt her, I needed to do better.

In the end, it was my inability to communicate in a universal language which made me need to subdue her.

The jaguar came back again by the way….this time, just walking through, not quite prowling, but majestically walking, knowing she had a space in my mind. She came back the very next night and stayed with me through the day.

I am not sophisticated in dream lore or animal lore, but this is too present to ignore.

I started to search and found some interesting information on having a jaguar appear in dreams:

Messages from Animals

Sam’s Spirit Guide

I welcome any further links or resources any of you may have.

Namaste.

Have you spent time justifying the existence of your dislikes?

For instance, someone treats you without courtesy in the work environment, do you find a way to rationalize that behavior?  Rationalize your dislike of that behavior?  Do you say, “that’s ok, he/she must be having a bad day?”

I do that.  I try to see things from a whole perspective.

Yet, I realize, that does not mean I have to accept such behavior.

I do not have to give my time unlimited to anyone that asks or demands.

It is ok to not answer my phone.

It is ok to not be available for every call that comes in regardless of what I may be doing.

It is ok to need time to find an answer or to arrive at the fact that I may not have a suitable response.

I can choose what to do with my “present moments”, rather than allowing perceived external forces allegedly decide for me.

I can whoop and holler with liberation, liberation of self, not because I don’t want to be kind or giving, but because it is essential to be kind and giving to ourselves also and not to sacrifice self for others at high costs.

It is ok to define our world and to determine what we will accept within our moments.

It is ok to realize that we are all individuals and that we are allowed to be individuals, along our own defining path, while allowing time for others.  Helping others, being available for others though should never mean sacrificing our passions and our beliefs.

There is no reason we should not allow ourselves the power to be.

Have a blessed New Year.

I was reading a touching piece on The Wild Pomegranate. Grace shared with us both the love she shares with her daughter and her daughter’s need for healing right now.

I posted this piece to ask anyone stopping by to take a moment and read Grace’s post and leave a note there with any resources for healing you may know about. For instance, Tumel (whose url address I don’t know) left several sources for Grace to read, including one regarding the power of raw food diets to aid in healing.

Whether we meant to or not,

whether it is what we set out for,

or not,

it’s too late,

we care.

We care about our blogging friends,

and their friends,

and their families.

So, if you have a moment, drop over to Grace’s place and see if you have any links or resources you could leave there in regard to healing.

Namaste, have a peaceful day.

Did you ever have a moment, when you have realized, there is more than what you see?

I use the word “see” expansively.

It could be a person you are talking to, otherwise regarded as arrogant, but you sense something else beneath the surface, and then without warning, the person is there, alone with you unexpectedly, a break in a meeting, telling you about what haunts them, a bad time in life, something they don’t want repeated, but for some reason are now telling you.

It could be a busy day in an urban park when your ear picks out a violin playing from an open window nearby.

It could be the scrape of the branches against the gray sky, pieces, leaves hanging on despite the seasons. Then, a sound, a movement, the branches populated by birds you would have otherwise missed.

Perhaps this is why I often enjoy silence, in order to see.

Hello.

I hope the holidays have found you all well.

If not financially, then physically.

If not physically, then spiritually.

Regardless, we wish you well.

Our holiday was chaotic and blessed.

I was hoping for some paints in the stocking, but alas, the Divine does not want me painting right now.

Until then, I share, the “Unfinished”.

Updated below:  December 30, 2007

I had the great fortune of coming across a space in the blogosphere which I enjoy. Today, I began to skip around again as I have been off-line for a few days now and went back to visit this blog:

Jamaican Dawta at WordPress.

I found a wonderful inspirational page on the author’s blog rich with resources for anyone called to write or committed to writing despite the little voice in their heads. Check it out….I myself am going to print it and read again to further enjoy.

Another cool source:  over at The Wild Pomegranate, Grace tipped us off to another cool blog:  The Red Ravine.  I went over to take a look and found a separate page on the blog regarding writing practices.  Looks great.  Take a moment and check it out.

Peace!

In my line of work,

I am asked,

is it proper to say, “Merry Christmas?”.

Over the last few years,

I have Christians tired of not heralding their holiday.

They are tired of saying Happy Holidays.

Today with them, I say: Merry Christmas.

And Namaste.

MotherWinterMoon: the photo is for you.

Peace & blessings to you all.

The following is an assortment of stream of consciousness writing. Some of it is old. All is unfinished. I’m just wandering through pages of writing. Maybe it was Grace finding her meditation draft book, or Sorrow 11, and her beautiful fridge, maybe it was the sheer tenacity of MotherWinterMoon or the brave heart of Ruby, maybe it is the absence of Ronnie and Mystery’s voices or the sweet sincerity of ToBeMe….but I wandered through small pages of my writing, small unfinished thoughts and leave them here this evening as a tribute to your own.

May the Divine bless you.

Peace.

Thoughts on another Day (July 7, 2007)(07-07-07)

I wonder

as I meet myself on paper

thinking of the days

which I perceive

to start so early

so unrelenting.

The morning,

the Sun hung oddly in the sky

the glare

the impact

the weight

stark.

I wondered what it would be

to be wrapped in robes

trudging across a vast desert

having it as my home

easy then to believe

in a vengeful Almighty

when shade and water

would be my gold

and so often unfound

who would I be?

Let Me Ask

you,

You,

what is it,

to type from your soul,

to find,

that when you open

your eyes,

the words are gone,

disappeared,

a backstroke,

something gone awry

the words are gone

and I ask you

i plead

I beg

why?

what have any of us done

to keep the world as it is?

my children laugh,

I am like a blind man at the keys,

my head rolls,

I refuse to watch what is written,

oh yes,

I go back for typographical errors,

but not for the moments within the breath,

I don’t know you,

you don’t know me

and you wouldn’t

for the person I am

was a person trampled upon

willing always to give

to the point of self extinction

I am done

I put my hand upon the plug

to stop this mind

yet, look upon the library

I put my head down

you don’t know what

it

cost me

to earn this rug

I put my head down

The barriers of Saturday

Copyright 2007: S.E.

Collapse

Inverse

The colors drain into me

A vortex

Of sound and light

I am color

I am words

I am what I was at the beginning

And what I was at the end

I am the moments in between

I type in a fashion

That if anyone were to see

They would be so confused

I can only hear the words

See them in blank

Close my eyes and let my

Fingers decide

What is it for a soul to fly

Within this earthly existence

What is it

What is it

What is it

There is a place removed

We all know

The touch on the shoulder

Thought you heard a sound

The flash of light

Or darkness

In the corner of your eye

A military tanker banked

And flew

As if on a human road

I lifted the fingers to my forehead

Salute

I don’t agree with war

I don’t judge the soldiers

I live within

And without

I am what you call here and not here

I am within you

All of you

Tilt your head

Turn it to the sky

Hear the birds

They are actually speaking

Have you forgotten the language

Watch a bird

If you approach

Still

It will wait for you

There is a pattern to the morning

To the Seasons

To Spring

Why we go so many years without

Listening

Seeing

Hearing

Smelling

Tasting

The avenues of us

Why

We

Go

Why

We go

Why we go

Because we do

It has been

And

So

It

Shall

be

Enter: S.E., copyright, 2007

Enter

Walk along the moss

The earth springing

Between my toes

Reborn

Wrapped in gauze

Is what we called it

Wound

Fresh

Air

Flowers

Roses

No tulips

Hair thickened

Feet bare

Clear

And bare

I breath

I breath

I breath

The oxygen has a name

When it enters my body

It is not

Just is

I pause

And look at the sky

I dip my fingers into the blue

I taste it

Smile

I light the world

I sit

Cross my legs

Fold unto myself

I glow

Emanate

I draw the energy of the earth

First

Asking

Bowing my head

Namaste

I say

To the earth

The soil

The pieces I didn’t

See before

The world

I sit atop

I am the woman

On the pot

Sitting

On the fountain

Of knowledge

It moves through

Me

It whistles

It gurgles

A stream

A winter thaw

Of a mountain

The cold clear

Never touched

Never?

Water

Becoming me

I breathe

And am graced

You can see me

Feel me

Unwound

my hair is in

what you think

is your wind

See

The way your car rocked

That was me

I was breathing

The lights that flicker?

It was me

Playing

Smiling and not smiling

We grin

The paths

The corrals

You humans

Have drawn against our creation

You have fenced yourselves

In

Welcome

to free will

Sheer Walls Copyright, 2007 Surface Earth

I have gone from you

There is silence

Space

A canyon

I have gone from you

And you didn’t falter

In your step

So convinced in your anger

You missed

The opportunity

For me

Not to go

I have gone from you

A bird from the North

Flying South to Sanctuary

I called for you

Cried for you

Screamed for you

Ceramic crashing to the ground

Did you hear me?

Nothing

The silence of righteousness

Of anger

Followed the shards

There on the ground

Left alone

Extreme emotion

Unwelcomed

Without attention

I have gone from you

Somewhere on the bottom of the canyon

Unable to scale the walls

I won’t come back this time

I have told you

There are no handholds

No crevices

Within which my hands or feet will fit

Blue: SmallThoughts on Being Woman

Copyright, SE, 2007

She crawled across the floor, the blue of her dress dragging onto the wood which had not been waxed in years. Her arms extended in front of her, hands clawing at the ground, then sliding to catch air.

They had sucked too much from her, believing she could either take it or was blind.

She looked toward the window sill, the worn wood, wondering if it was a dog that scratched the molding, there were claw marks darkened with age. She lifted herself with her knees drawn up beneath her, her head against the molding , chin down. Her eyes lifted through the level of the trees, looking out to the road below.

How many years had she sat in this position within her mind without knowing it? When did she first begin to cower and why? She was transfixed with what she did not know about herself, either what others had never told her or what she had not told herself. She rubbed the dirt from beneath her nails, she wasn’t grotesque, quite the opposite, she was told she was beautiful. Every once in a while, she would catch a glimpse of herself in a store window and be startled by her reflection, the angle of her cheek bones against the background and realize with a gasp that she was the woman reflected and she was indeed, in that moment, with that set of eyes, beautiful.

She has always been surrounded by people who tell you its black when its white.

Who are they protecting?

Certainly not her, lying through their teeth to serve their own motives. Is there a time when that is acceptable?

Pieces: Copyright 2007, surface earth

Broken

Pieces

Do you see

There upon the floor

Your heel grounds onto

The piece of otherwise me

Singing

A thousand

Hawks circling

Prey

Already dead

Or gone

Soundless

Yet with weight

There upon the air

Can you sense it?

My heart

Crying to you

Affirmation

Turned

A dead stare

Were you ever

Really there?

Steps

SurfaceEarth, 2006:

I feel like I’m walking in Heaven Lord

And there’s no other way to say it

I feel like I’m walking in Heaven Lord

Doesn’t matter where you put me

Where I land

Because now I get it

I see what

You have given me

And Lord

I feel like I’m walking in Heaven

I see the ceiling

In the room

Where I sit

But Lord

I hear the music that is ours

If we could but listen

I hear the sound

Of a saxophone

Wishing me a very Merry Christmas

I recall a funny card I saw the other day

“Happy Birthday to Me”

“And Oh, Merry Christmas to You”

Jesus surrounded on the front

I feel like

I’m walking in Heaven Lord

There are no lines

No forms to fill out

Which country I’ve come from

Or where I may go

I don’t need to keep up

With the Jones

Because the Jones are right here with me

I’ve got it all

You know

Right here inside of me

I feel like I’m walking in Heaven Lord

And thank you

For what you have given me

I had a dream last night of rainbows.

I was somewhere within the sky looking ahead and remember exclaiming at the beauty of the rainbow. At first, I thought it was only one, the secret upside down piece of rainbow I had seen in the sky recently. It was a day of huge bird activity, flying back and forth, swooping, playing, chattering, singing and I stood transfixed looking up and around and watching the birds lead me to find a piece of an upside down or backward rainbow in the sky. I thought of getting a camera but knew I would never forget.

So there I am in the dream last night, thinking, “Oh, there is that rainbow, I get to see it all now.” I looked more and saw it was not upside down and I was somehow standing across from it so that if I walked forward I would be within it’s half circle of light. Looking closer, I saw that there was another rainbow beyond, then another, then another. It occurred to me in my dream that I was dreaming and it was not the upside down rainbow.

I can still see it now with my eyes open. (No, I don’t understand how I can be typing and still have such a real visual image somewhere on my mental or spiritual horizon.)

Part of me believes there were four rainbows and I was going somewhere. I remember a feeling of such great elation. I wonder though if the dream stopped, if I had become too much back into my daily self and there were more than four rainbows, if in fact they were endless.

This line was too delicious to resist, I had to take it and paste it above for all to enjoy. Have you figured out yet, it’s not my phrase?

The author, Lisa Kogan from “O, The Oprah Magazine,” wrote a mean piece, not just because of the priceless phrase: moratorium on snarkiness. I mean mean as in great, not mean as in-well, never mind.

It’s about parenting and her writing style is a riot. It also hits home having always been a working mom. (Love that phrase too, as if there are any unworking moms, or parents, out there. But I mean work as in work, leave the home, then come back and do everything you didn’t have time for during the day…).

Go give yourself a well earned laugh and head to CNN to enjoy her article fully. (Oh yeah, that’s my present to you!)

CNN

I am not the water.

I am not the rocks.

I am not the silt on the bottom of the bed of the creek.

I am not the edge of the creek, the moss meeting the edge of the water.

I am not the floor of the sky.

I am not the ceiling of the earth.

I am not limited

I am not defined.

I am no more not of the water and the earth and the rocks and the sky then I am of them.

I am all or I am nothing.

I am.

And so is love.

Well, there are a lot of things we can all do.

We can donate money, if we have it.

We can collect outgrown clothes and toys and donate.

When we only have time, if we are so lucky, then we can donate that and it is invaluable.

I’m just on the learning curve with “Make It Right”: bringing people back to their homes in New Orleans.

I’m thinking it’s worth a look, they say you can pledge to buy a solar panel, a home, perhaps a door? For some of us, maybe we can only donate the price of a lock or a bit of sunshine.

At any rate, take a look, let’s make someone’s day……………MakeItRight Nola.Org

Today

I ask

why it is

we spend

time

wondering

what anything means.

I wonder

what it is

that

makes awake each day,

knowing that we don’t know.

Gratitude comes in many shapes and sizes.

Gratitude can be as simple as looking at the trees covered in snow and being thankful for the warmth of a home.

Gratitude can be as astute as thanking God for the ability to see the snow covering the limbs of the trees.

Gratitude can be using your full sense to smell the crispness of the air.

Gratitude can be sensing both the isolation of self surrounded by the snow and the trees and the connection with all living things.

Gratitude is a powerful state of being.

ok, ok…

Dr. Suess is on, his x-mas glory…………….

I’m a Christian by birth and habit………….

but I must say,

I’m a child by choice.

I just love how that sour old guy (The Grinch) travels up the mountain and back down and up and down and threatens to crash only to be saved by the innocent, never to be messed with gorgeous souls of the children.

I’m taking an Electronic Break, I just need to see The Grinch.

Peace to you tonight.

Healing Prayers.

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, or simply a time removed from the now we know, the humans began to be ruled by the being known as “It”.

“It” had all of the answers.

“It” determined how to live.

“It” held the power as to whether to grant or deny fevered prayers.

The people woke and worked and slept.

They managed to love, smile, cry, hug and laugh in times in between.

They didn’t notice slowly the less time spent beneath the Sun or the less time there was when they were exposed to the Sun.

They did not notice when time sped up despite what the clocks illuminated for them.

“It” on the other hand, watched everything with great mirth.  “It” sat back, hands folded on a large belly and peered beneath its folds, looking down at the “people”.

“The people have begun to ask too many questions,” said “It”.

“Give them ‘jobs’”.

“Give them ‘aspiration’”.

“Give them ‘hope’”.

Now that didn’t seem so bad, giving the people jobs, aspiration and hope.  No, not so bad at all.  The people went along with it, waking up and sinking into the parameters of their days without a thought.  Well, maybe one or two, but the rest of the words kept them so busy, they had to abandon their thoughts.

“It” chuckled, knowing it had just begun.

I don’t know when in the evolution of humanity food ceased being a basic right.  This thought came to mind when I was reading Ronnie’s Blog and she posted wonderful information and a reminder of how we can help others not knowing where their next meal is coming from.

It also reminded me of an advertisement I recently saw…Don’t Almost Give

I encourage everyone to take a minute when they can and read Ronnie’s post and check out Don’t Almost Give Organization.

Namaste.

I saw on NorthEastern, Channel Two News….an epidsode, an exchange with Hugh Downs and the author/protaganist of a book called: The World’s Greatest Treasurery of Health Secrets.

Sadly, the top hits I came across in my research all gave back negative “scam” infomercial information.

Yet, much of what I heard discussed on the program resonated with truth.

Thoughts?

Yes.

I was and am horrified that police, the custodians of our morality, would place a young girl in a cell with men and leave her there to be abused and tortured.

I am also appalled that the men within the jail or prison would be no better than the police that placed her there.

This is what I mean, it never begins and ends in one place, in one moment.  We sow the seeds.

I can only pray.

BBC Reports 

CNN Reports 

The Daily Telegraph Reports 

We are all a part of this shifting paradigm that causes this to occur, the jailers, the jailed, the young girl who we as society are charged to protect….we all do this together.

How do we then figure out a way out of this together?  That is the question I am asking you today.

Join me, start a song, type unbidden, let’s see where we are, the SurfaceEarth exchange

……

Across the sky

I stand

breath

silence

looking up

two birds come across

they wink at me

it no longer matters

I don’t need the sign

they were simply waking me up all of these months and years

rolling

across the top of the ocean

collective consciousness

I roll

Does it matter

that I now walk through walls

taught

does it matter

did not achieve it on my own

Did I pick the right song

or the wrong one

did it pick me?

It’s slow beyond the triggers of my mind

I think the pauses between the words

between the melody

may be having me travel where I wouldn’t otherwise

“Oh God if you’re round there won’t you hear me…”

Maybe not such a bad choice

maybe not

I pat the head

of the girl I was

I smile at her

the thirty animals that circled her bed at night

the bag beneath her bed

in case

in case

there was a fire

I circle and embrace her

is this the worst that comes out of this two minute song?

How do we find where we have begun?

Song #2: Couldn’t resist, may be short……………

How do you describe

a smile

that starts from within?

How do you describe hope

that stands

despite

the day?

How do you

How do you

How do you live the moment

when the past and the future

want to choke you?

How do you

How do you

How do you rise up

and glide

across the pond

iced

of the moment?

How do you stand

a child

across a frozen ink of glass

against the stark

forgotten trees

of a town

removed

a place within the town

even more forgotten

how do you carve yourself against the sky

to make yourself matter?

You glide

you breath

you put your arms out in front of you

whether you can

see

or not see

you put your fingers

your nerves

the warmth

of you against the sky and dare it

to

not

see you

****both background songs compliments of Sarah McLauchlan, her cd I bought playing in my home

Peace my brothers and sisters.

Try it.

Typing or drawing to music is freeing and brings us back to our origins.

May God bless you.

I know not what to say.

Young women, victims of dominance, punished?

Saudi Arabia, Female Victim

There is no true distinction in the flow of humanity. It is only perceived illusion. Division is only what we have determined as Society, as Society, we have the power to un-determine.

Are you kidding me? In an unrelated male’s car? Is that the same as the American version that her skirt was too short, she “asked for it”?

Ok, ok, I’m not even close to being done here.

Look inside brothers and sisters, we must treat each other better.

Dignity.

Respect.

Love.

There are no better words.

The lawyer was allegedly stripped of his license to practice law as a result of filing an appeal on the woman’s, (YOUNG woman’s behalf).

You’re kidding me right, a lawyer doing the right thing gets censured and has no recourse to earn a living, to obtain food and housing?

I’m steaming.  (I am not sure whether that is good or bad that I am steaming over this.   I’m not sure that throwing more anger out into the universal energy field is smart, that maybe it simply accelerates negativity and abusive behavior and it would be better to channel the anger into healing prayers.  Alas, I have brought this anger onto the pages here.  I may now try the prayer route.)

Update:  CNN

Hey.

I’m thinking of slashing some prices on some surface earth designs for the upcoming holiday season.

Here’s the link, take a look, share with your friends, stop back and let us know which one(s) you think we should cut the price on for the holidays!

Thank you friends.

Namaste.

Surface Earth at WhozRidingWho.com

Surface Earth at Cafe Press

*As you will see, we are still in the process of moving over designs to the Surface Earth store!!

Retail Price: $23.99

Well, I’m hoping this falls under the Fair Use Doctrine, I’m pretty convinced it does. So I’ll share just a quote of one of the four books I got myself today, because, to be truthful, I’m always reading more than one book at once and as many as I can get my hands on.

So without further ado, a slight excerpt, a cut-away…I give you:

“As I look back over my life, as my mind wanders freely over how I’ve lived and loved and protested and questioned, I realize that aging well isn’t about the search for happiness, but more about quietly feeling content with what I’ve experienced. Loving without caring too much, you might say. And more than anything, I’ve come to appreciate the value of conflict. Everything isn’t always meant to be light and love. The dark times, the conflicts, that’s where real learning can happen.”

-Shirley MacLaine, Sage-Ing While Age-Ing; Atria Books, p. 4, copyright 2007.

Update:  November 19, 2007:  O’Reilly & Ms. MacLaine square off on this flat planet

Every once in awhile, it’s fun to turn on the music and grab a pencil and draw as fast as you can before the song ends!

Drawing to music…………

Words.

Sometimes words must only be what we feel.

Not what is expected.

That’s not to mean we don’t have responsibility with our words.

Rather, it means we have responsibility with our words to ourselves, to not self-edit to the point of expectation.  I never have problem with editing to ensure that there is no intended harm, the harm that ensues though, unintended, is what I speak of….words which pour from us unheeded; yet, on second glance, could have a separate disparate impact on an unintended audience.

You see, I am a believer, a follower of the unedited.  I write, save to correct typos most of the time, but I write with my heart and or soul pouring onto the page.

There are times I do not.

I throw out an article, knowing how I feel about it, but not setting it forth, because for some inexplicable reason it is more important for me to see how you feel.

So welcome.

I treasure your thoughts.

The wind takes away

the bitter seeds

planted

on an otherwise

justified day

there is a difference

in the dimension of the

changing

of the wind

a sweet breeze plants the hope for a new season

not unearthing

that which was tilled

with love

the fierce, almost howl of the talons of the wind

ripping

like a hailstorm

through the day

unearths

what was never meant to be planted

Today

I thank both the fierce winds

and the sweet breeze of my existence

Why do we work so hard to keep our eyes closed?

That’s what I thought when I read an article on CNN regarding a former Governor speaking out about his experience.  Now, because it is a politician, it grabs attention, not because a politician is more credible, simply due to the fact that one speaks out at all on anything that could cause a loss of votes.

CNN, The Governor & the UFO 

Namaste.

I often speak of the space between words, but know not how to describe it in words, it is emotive. It is silent; yet, full.

I watch this evening: God Grew Tired of Us.

I again affirm, there is silence between words, and there, we may yet find humanity.

God be with you.

(Thanks to MotherWinterMoon, we have posted the trailer below)

God Grew Tired of Us Trailer
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoKHZ9EwmIE]

I am really amazed at the grace of the emergence of Mr. Potts.

I will happily continue to showcase his rise.

For your viewing pleasure…

NBC 

I read a post daring the readers to break out and expand our consciousness and awareness:

Sibbia on “I Don’t Believe In…”.

She invited me and a few others (and doubtless the entire world if all are so inclined) to join in and challenge a belief.

Hmmmm.

Shouldn’t be so hard, should it?

I challenge many things, I challenge the appearance or the illusion of truth. I challenge perception. I challenge myself.

I find that many of us have been taught to not forgive, for if we do, we are then fools or soon to be a ready-made fool. I find that we are not taught that the lack of forgiveness many times hurts only ourselves and always in fact hurts somewhere internally. That is a given. That is a “fact”.

When we do not forgive, we take up room within ourselves, we create labyrinths with mirrored walls, pitfalls, dungeons and all sorts of traps that we have hidden the locks to, even though we were the original locksmiths.

I received a lovely parable yesterday, and share it with you today, to challenge your belief, and sometimes my own, on forgiveness.

I leave it below for you, in its entirety as I received it. I do not know the author of the piece.

Stone

TWO FRIENDS WERE WALKING
THROUGH THE DESERT
DURING SOME POINT OF THE
JOURNEY, THEY HAD AN
ARGUMENT; AND ONE FRIEND
SLAPPED THE OTHER ONE
IN THE FACE

THE ONE WHO GOT SLAPPED
WAS HURT, BUT WITHOUT
SAYING ANYTHING,
WROTE IN THE SAND

TODAY MY BEST FRIEND
SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE

THEY KEPT ON WALKING,
UNTIL THEY FOUND AN OASIS,
WHERE THEY DECIDED
TO TAKE A BATH

THE ONE WHO HAD BEEN
SLAPPED GOT STUCK IN THE
MIRE! AND STARTED DROWNING,
BUT THE FRIEND SAVED HIM.

AFTER HE RECOVERED FROM
THE NEAR DROWNING,
HE WROTE ON A STONE:

“TODAY MY BEST FRIEND
SAVED MY LIFE”

THE FRIEND WHO HAD SLAPPED
AND SAVED HIS BEST FRIEND
ASKED HIM, “AFTER I HURT YOU,
YOU WROTE IN THE SAND AND NOW,
YOU WRITE ON A STONE, WHY?”

THE FRIEND REPLIED
“WHEN SOMEONE HURTS US
WE SHOULD WRITE IT DOWN
IN SAND, WHERE WINDS OF
FORGIVENESS CAN ERASE IT AWAY.
BUT, WHEN SOMEONE DOES
SOMETHING GOOD FOR US,
WE MUST ENGRAVE IT IN STONE
WHERE NO WIND
CAN EVER ERASE IT”

LEARN TO WRITE
YOUR HURTS IN
THE SAND AND TO
CARVE YOUR
BENEFITS IN STONE.

T HEY SAY IT TAKES A
MINUTE TO FIND A SPECIAL
PERSON,
AN HOUR TO APPRECIATE
THEM,
A DAY
TO LOVE THEM,

BUT THEN
AN ENTIRE LIFE
TO FORGET THEM.

SEND THIS TO
THE PEOPLE YOU’LL NEVER
FORGET.
I JUST DID.

IF YOU DON’T
SEND IT TO ANYONE,
IT MEANS YOU’RE IN A
HURRY AND THAT YOU’VE
FORGOTTEN YOUR FRIENDS.

TAKE THE TIME TO LIVE!

DO NOT VALUE THE THINGS
YOU HAVE IN YOUR LIFE, BUT VALUE
WHO YOU HAVE IN YOUR LIFE!

AND IF I HAPPEN TO GET IT BACK,
THEN I KNOW MY PLACE IN YOUR LIFE

“Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.”

I HOPE this message finds you in good health

To God be the Glory for the great things He has done!

I stop at this point. Following the title above.

Christianity and Scientology?

Truly?

Has this made CNN headlines?

Yes,

it,

has.

CNN reports:

“TAMPA, Florida (CNN) — Some Christian congregations, particularly in lower income, urban areas, are turning to an unlikely source for help — the Church of Scientology.

Rev, Charles Kennedy uses Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard’s book during a Friday night sermon.

Scientologists do not worship God, much less Jesus Christ. The church has seen plenty of controversy and critics consider it a cult. So why are observant Christians embracing some its teachings?

Two pastors who spoke recently with CNN explained that when it comes to religion, they still preach the core beliefs of Christianity. But when it comes to practicing what they preach in a modern world, borrowing from Scientology helps.

The Rev. Charles Kennedy, of the Glorious Church of God in Christ, a Pentecostal church in Tampa, Florida, and the Rev. James McLaughlin, of the Wayman Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Houston, Texas, are among the theological hybrids.

They say they are not scared off by programs with ties to a church that critics say has aggressive recruiting, secretive ways and rigid theology. As men of God rooted in Christian values, they do not see Scientology as a threat to their faith, but rather as a tool to augment it.”

Of note:

1. Scientology not seen to be a threat; and

2. Not scared of aggressive recruiting.

That alone is enough to make headlines. What intrigues me though is that men of their own religion, with proscribed rules of dogma, have stepped outside of the lines. I applaud thinking outside of the lines.

Since I first wrote this post last evening, I have spent some time thinking about it and reading Ronnie’s comment below.

I agree that there can be danger in any organization that seeks to oppress and wrongly manipulate. I say “wrongly” manipulate, because I do think, consciously or unconsciously, all religions and many organizations, to a degree manipulate when they focus on only one way, one system of belief, exclusivity.

What I do embrace is moving beyond the lines, “getting out of the box”, and learning from a multitude of what is around us.

Namaste.

Take a moment, just a click, video on children. I received an email:

Autism Speaks, a sponsoring organization for the Autism Awareness campaign created a music video of the Five for Fighting song, “World”, which features images of autistic children and their families. It is a truly moving video and was the work of their Creative Director, Bill Shea.

The band is generously donating $0.49 to Autism Speaks for each time the video is viewed. When you have a moment, please visit the link below to watch the video and pass it along to your friends and family. They are aiming for 10,000 hits, but hopefully we can help them to surpass this goal.

What Kind of World Do You Want?

Pass it on please.

Faith. The sound of the word is pleasing, like a gentle breeze on a Spring Day, it surrounds us if only for a moment.

Sometimes, when I am having doubts about faith, because I have let anger, resentment, frustration or hopelessness stand in place, I find a mantra, it doesn’t truly matter which one. Sometimes it is a prayer from childhood, repeating the Hail Mary over and over again within me until the space I kept reserved for my negative emotion is replaced with peace. Sometimes I just breath the word God in and out.

I don’t know whether faith is a choice or a long forgotten memory for many. I know I have to spend more time fighting faith than convincing myself of it.

I believe in a multitude of paths to divinity, to the universe, to all that we have forgotten as humanity.

I believe the birds do in fact speak to us with their movements. I believe there are other dimensions around us at all times, energy and spiritual forces, that exist whether we believe or don’t believe. I believe that faith can in fact heal all, the struggle of remaining open to such power is what very often creates the resistance as if insurmountable waves.

This morning, I am thankful for faith and for the opportunity to see beyond the parameters within each moment.

Journey on.

Grace just dropped in and hit me with a meme. (note to self, look up word).

Seeing as Grace has her hands full in CA and managed to do this, and I keep deleting all the posts I put up after 12 hours and have no burning desire to write about anything post-worthy….her timing could not have been more magnificent.

Here’s how she started:

“Thanks to Takeshi over at Nakayima for tagging me for a fun Meme. Using the letters of the alphabet, I’m supposed to let you all in on some little known factoids about moi. along with posting The Instructions, and then tagging a few more of you myself. So here goes.

First, the legal stuff:

The instructions say that each player starts with some random facts/habits about himself/herself. As you are tagged you need to post the rules and your responses on your own blog. At the end of your post, you need to choose some people to tag, list their names and, of course, leave them a comment, telling they have been tagged and they need to read your blog for more information.”

A: will always be for apple, sheer joy when I see the letter with the picture and for those that I love more than life.

B: Benevolence: because I like it as a path

C: Cat: because I can still spell it after all of these years…oh ok, I love C because it is the beginning of the names of some of those I love dearly with “forever love”

D: Dog, tough, I’m still proud I can spell it and it’s God backward

E: Empathy

F: Family

G: God

H: Home

I: Illuminate, I strive to illuminate my forgotten knowledge

J: Joy, I adore it

K: well, K again is special because I love someone that starts with K

L: Love. Love heals all.

M: Mom, in so many different ways, how can M not be important?

N: Nonsense. I love moments of pure, silly, random nonsense. Dancing down a street, snow angels in the snow, a bag of flour that falls on the floor and we draw pictures in it rather than yell, yes, pure nonsense.

O: …why is O difficult?  is it because I like to write/type at lightening speed and if something does not pop out immediately I move on?  I’ll have you know, I first left O blank.  Then I didn’t feel right about leaving O there alone.  Kind of like as a kid I had zillions of stuffed animals and each had a name and I had to say goodnight to each and every one of them.  Oh!  I have it now:  Oneness!!!!!

P: Play, I love toys, old tin toys, block and wood toys, just toys.

Q: OOOOOO, quiet, I love quiet and peaceful moments, the kind that seem limitless.

R: Racing. I love watching ski racing.

S: Silence. I love learning its value.

T: Trees, loved to climb as high as I could as a kid, liked the view and being uninterrupted.

U: Unicorn, because I still believe.

V: Violin, always wanted to be able to play one.

W: water, I adore water, swimming in it, watching it crash, seeing the sun rise over it, hear it playing music against the rocks in a slow moving creek.

X: Huh?

Y: yes, my favorite, y, y, y…oh that would be w, wouldn’t it?

Z: sleeping, ZZZZZ, on a sweet summer afternoon.

I call on:

Ronnie

Ruby (tempting her procrastination of course)

MWM

Sorrow 11

Peace out.

Tonight, I began to read a book, entitled, Stolen Child by Keith Donohue. It was not long into it, a page, maybe two, that I remembered my favorite poem of all times.

“WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;

There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses

The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles

And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes

That scare could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,

Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.”

William Butler Yeats

A day of jubilation turned to trauma:  BBC reports.

I call this evening to pray for those in Pakistan.

There is no need to do this to each other as fellow human beings, sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, friends, in-laws…………

there is no need.

Join me, take a moment, ask whatever divinity you believe in to remind us of love.

If I had to bottle up my love,

could I?

would I?

could I find the pieces to fit within dimensions?

Lock into the one huge smile,

the laughter from the belly,

the sheer joy stretched across

the face

of this otherwise

immortal being.

Could I?

Could I take the time,

I saw you as a child,

yet,

fully grown,

needing me,

holding onto you,

when you were scared and unable to ask?

Would that be the moment I choose,

to put within the glass,

to hold it,

take it out,

savor it, remind me of love?

Would I take the time, another, her hair falling across her forehead,

looked at me,

the giver of birth,

with love undefined?

Would I take that and shove it

within confines?

Would I know,

when asked,

when pushed,

that it was and has always been,

love without limits,

crystalized in moments,

not diffusing,

simply highlighting?

Trump, as a verb, is defined as to override.

I find this definition pleasing as I question: why would a man, seemingly on top and not within this world, feel the need to trash others?

Now, mind you, I’m doing the same thing right now….I have no excuses, I am setting out, baring my mental barrage.

Did you see the latest?

CNN reports that Mr. Trump took on Ms. Jolie.

Unfortunately for Mr. Trump, he waited until her back was turned. Um, poor sportsmanship perhaps?

I always kind of looked askance when people said money doesn’t buy happiness, wondering if they had truly ever been without it at a point in their lives when they no longer see the lottery tickets flashing in the future?

Now, well, I can see, in this case, money sure can breed misery. Then again, maybe some are miserable with or without.

I wonder, is it time to update the Rock’em Sock’em Robots game?

CNN has some great articles today about Stephen Colbert and the bid for whichever party will take him for Presidential nominee. Personally, I’m in favor of the Colbert, Colbert and Only Colbert Party, then again, there is already the ColbertNation.

If you jump below you can find the CNN links & one of the CNN articles.

When searching for some more “news”, we came across some more fun sites about Colbert running in 2008:

“A Nation Cries Out” : the site is “Colbertocrat”

Wikiality on Colbert

Editor & Publisher online chimes in

and last but not least….

The Huffington Post

Read the article copied below…………………hmmmmmmmmmmm……….Colbert for President? See also, additional article at CNN Entertainment.

CNN: Hot off the press!

October 17, 2007

Colbert announces bid for the White House

Colbert said Tuesday he will run for president in South Carolina.

WASHINGTON (CNN) — He hinted at a possible run for the White House on CNN’s Larry King last week, but Comedy Central host Stephen Colbert made it official Tuesday night: he’s jumping into the presidential race in his home state of South Carolina.

“After nearly 15 minutes of soul-searching, I have heard the call….I am hereby declaring that I will enter the presidential primary in my native South Carolina, running as a favorite son,” Colbert said on his show Tuesday night. “I defy any other candidate to pander more to the people of South Carolina — those beautiful, beautiful people.”

South Carolina is one of four lead-off primary states that will likely play a crucial role in determining the eventual nominee of both parties.

On Larry King last Thursday, Colbert laid out his potential electoral strategy, saying he’d see how he did in South Carolina before deciding to move on to other states.

“I think maybe there’s something I could offer the campaign on a state-by-state basis,” he said. “I would target a state individually…a test run.”

Colbert, author of the recently released “I Am America (And So Can You!),” also told King he’d seek to run as both a Democrat and Republican.

“I’d let the people decide what party I belong in,” he said. “I don’t dictate the people’s actions.”

In the interview with King, Colbert also brushed aside suggestions that it was a “cop out” to run in both parties, calling it instead courageous, because, “I could lose twice.”

In the slim chance that he wins a party’s nomination, Colbert said Tuesday he’d consider either Republican presidential candidate Mike Huckabee, Russian President Vladimir Putin, or himself for a running mate.

“Colbert-Colbert — that’s a strong ticket,” he argued.

– CNN Ticker Producer Alexander Mooney

Some are reporting that the late Pope John Paul II has appeared in the flames of a bonfire in Poland. Not sure if it’s correct to say within the flames, or that the flames of the bonfire have taken the shape of Pope John Paul II.

I tried copying two of the articles, the first one contained comments which I wasn’t interested in, not because they “dissed” the idea of such an occurrence, but the lack of brotherly love in the responses wasn’t something I was fond of…so, I went to another source and encountered technical difficulty posting the photo.

So instead, for whoever is interested in seeing the photographs, try the link below….

News.com.au

And, if you have the time, go to the link below, take the image and copy it over into a blank document, if you then highlight the photo as if to copy it, you get the reverse/darkened image….funny…you can see the image even better…

Daily Mail

“…quantum teleportation involves the transmission not of actual matter, but rather of information.”

Hmmm, does that mean our “information” would then be duplicated or does it mean that we are only “information” in essence?

“And what of the “classical teleportation” so integral to the adventures of Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock and Harry Potter? Will there ever come a time when actual people, rather than just the particles of which they are made up, will be able to beam from one place to another?

Charles Bennett believes that, in principle at least, it is perfectly feasible to teleport humans without violating any of the fundamental laws of physics. Not only that, but, also in principle, it could be done without resorting to the complexities of quantum entanglement.”

Now we’re talking!!!

Go to the source of the quotes above, not only may you find it fascinating but there is also a cool picture of our Star Trek friends………………

You know, Padre Pio was able to bi-locate……………………..

Have you ever been there?

Deep down?

As far as you think you will land, in the ugly, smelly armpit of your own life?

Have you looked around and all you could see was what your heart never wished for?

Have you been there?

The only solution I have found is to not beat yourself up for arriving.

To breath, and breath again, and breath and breath and breath.

Set no agenda.

Have no immediate expectation.

Just meet yourself there, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the moment.

Wrap your arms around yourself.

If you can’t muster the courage, the strength to tell yourself I love you, then just breath.

There are those of us out here, unknown, saying we love you anyway.

We’re here.

We hear you.

Namaste.

What is a “secret”?

A Google search, specifically: define secret, gives me a plethora of hits. I choose one, and will reprint here for you……………

“Definitions of secret on the Web:

I like best this definition….kept secret or not revealed.

Not revealed.

Doesn’t mean it does not exist, means it is not revealed, not dug up, not seen, not heard, not understood, perhaps forgotten.

Now, how about…”The Secret”…is it the only one?

I picked up a magazine called “Ode” the other week. The magazine was a complete suprise, I had no plans to buy it, rather, I arrived early for a work appointment and found myself in Whole Foods and picked up some different magazines, yes, I splurged.

So I found the Ode and within it, I found an article entitled, “The Real Secret”.

Again, this does not tell us the one and only secret, rather, it hints at that which is not revealed within the megablockbuster, The Secret.

One of the issues within this article was the matter of blame.

Oh, ok, maybe the author didn’t put it that way, my regular readers know though that that is an open issue for me in regard to the theories within The Secret.

The article in part set forth:

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t think positively, or that we’re not interconnected. All I’m saying is it’s incorrect to use current physics research to validate these claims and it’s highly misleading to present them as the utimate truth, or the ‘Great Secret,’ of the universe. Such grand assetions give people a false sense ofhope.

And, on the contrary, the claim that we create our own realities may also be unfair with respect to people who are ill or poor. The message of The Secret suggest they too are responsible for their own fate. Does this mean that the thousands in Bangladesh made homeless by floods are suffering because they did not have a positive vision?”

The Real Secret, by Peter Russel, Ode Magazine, October 2007, Vol. 5, Issue 8.

I think not.

I do not know what the ultimate answer is in the Universe, it is only recently I began to learn we may not be from this universe after all…following compliments of ViewZone.com

“This same sense of shock came as scientists announced that the Sun, the Moon, our planet and its siblings, were not born into the familiar band of stars known as the Milky Way galaxy, but we actually belong to a strange formation with the unfamiliar name of the Sagittarius Dwarf galaxy!

How can this be?”

Peace.

The best thing we can know, is that we do not know.

Listen, who knows, right?

To date, I have yet to find a can upon the shelves that has claimed to contain all of the answers.

I have not yet been force fed to see this world in only one way.

So tonight, I lift back the curtain of our existence and introduce…

Blue Solar Water & “Dewdrop”.

I lead you to the page where I found some source documents that I enjoyed, now, it is your turn.

You see, I believe in magic, and I for one am going to enjoy this journey looking from out beyond the edges of the box….stop back if you find anything of interest you would like to discuss.

Peace.

Ubuntu.

Namaste.

More perspectives:

Indigo Rising 

Graceful Presence Blogspot 

There is no point in resisting the passage of time.

It will not stop. It will not recognize our resistance.

The only thing that can change is our perception of time.

I wonder if time is measured differently during moments of beauty.

If it spins out, webbing itself against the dimensions.

Does it hold, grab, freeze, otherwise reverse what we know as time?

Does it still the giant within us, in this day and age, that lunges toward negativity?

I do know moments of beauty are crystal clear and indescribable to the greatest extent.  They hover, almost outside of our vision even when within, pulling at the reaches of our heart.

I wish I could take credit for the title:

“The Train Ride Between Words”,

but,

I can’t.

The train ride between words,

marvelous,

do you think,

anyone is collecting tickets?

I received an e-mail just now from across the sea from me….I took the time to read it and now share it with you…

“Subject: FW: Two choices

What would you do?….you make the choice. Don’t look for a punch line, there isn’t one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

“When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do Where is the natural order of things in my son?”

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. “I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.”

Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, “Do you think they’ll let me play?” Shay’s father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay’s father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, “We’re losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.”

Shay struggled over to the team’s bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. His father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father’s joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again.

Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat.

Everyone
knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay’s life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman.

Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first base man’s head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, “Shay , run to first! Run to first!”

Never
in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, “Run to second, run to second!” Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball … the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitchers intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-base man’s head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, “Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay”

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, “Run to third! Shay, run to third!”

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, “Shay, run home! Run home!”

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

“That day”, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, “the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world”.

Shay didn’t make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

AND NOW A LITTLE FOOTNOTE TO THIS STORY: We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyber space, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you’re thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you’re probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren’t the “appropriate” ones to receive this type of message. Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference.

We
all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the “natural order of things.” So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it’s least fortunate amongst them.

You now have two choices:
1. Delete
2. Forward

May your day, be a Shay Day.”

May God, the Universe or whatsoever you believe in, bless you on this journey we call life.

Namaste.

Sponge Bob speaks to Patrick, telling him with imagination, you can be anything you want to be.

Sponge Bob says I-Mag-In-A-Tion, drawing the word out wide, lifting his arms above his head, with a sparkly rainbow appearing.

Patrick becomes mesmerized when Sponge Bob says you can be anything you want to be and Patrick says:

“A starfish!”

Squidword says:

“You already are a starfish.”

Patrick says:

“See, it really works.”

Just a simple matter of perspective………..