Boston Herald presents on the sighting of the image of Mother Mary
Seems like she made a stop in Springfield. M.A.
****Hey CordieB’s comment just made me update this, almost included it to begin with but didn’t, Mother Mary Come to Me………………..
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQNpEET9WqQ&rel=0&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=0]
Is it my camera or is it my hand? takes blurry photos….but I needed to share, this is a woman, an artist, that shares and shares and shares.
The above is a one of a kind begging bowl. You must see it to believe it. You must feel it to sense the energetic love. The card in the photo reads:
“The begging bowl is a visual reminder, it can be worn, hung on a {rearview} mirror, or anywhere it can be seen to remind you. Remind you that every day Life brings things to you, it places these moments in the bowl of your day. It is up to You to use these moments to nourish your heart, your mind, your spirit.”
I’m not sure how to convince you to jump to her shop, but please do, she gives back, constantly, without a thought. Pass this on. Let’s show what the power of kindness can do….pass it on, to ten, then ten more then ten more again. Let’s do it, let’s see if we can pass this on to at least hit the million mark.
And Sorrow, when you stop in, feel free to tell us more, and please, do not be humble, share with us the stories of the works on your site, the homeless that have been given a space to try to earn money, the free gifts you send your fellow bloggers, shout it from the mountain girl, I know you will only take the profits and give them away, even though I pray you keep a tiny bit for yourself.
Peace. I never tell you to do anything, I am telling you now, pass this on to as many as you can, link it to your blogs, go to the shop, you will be rewarding the kind and gentle and unselfish heart of the artist, Sorrow11.
Surface Earth
What is he thinking? Saying? Rather unnerving, when I go outside he (she?) turns her head and watches my movement.
Photos are a bit blurry…but you get the picture.
I looked in this article for a contact to reach out and could not find one. Perhaps one of you will see what I could not. Maybe it’s as simple as writing to the reporter who covered the story.
Another thought came to me, she reportedly lives in Vista, California. There must be a family near there that can donate clothes an older boy has grown out of or a group that can share meals. There must be ways we can still reach out and help one another, even when most of us no longer have enough money, let alone “extra” money.
***UPDATE: AS OF 10/4/08, WE ARE TRYING TO OBTAIN THE EMAIL ADDRESS FOR THE CNN REPORTER, WE CALLED A FEW DIFFERENT NUMBERS TO TRACK HIM, WE HOPE DURING REGULAR OPERATING HOURS BEGINNING MONDAY, WE CAN TRACK HIM DOWN AND HE CAN HELP US FACILITATE WAYS TO DONATE TO THE FAMILY HE HIGHLIGHTED IN NEED.
STAY TUNED. WE WILL APPRISE AS SOON AS WE KNOW. PEACE TO YOU.
Ok.
Breath.
There are many things I can say about what I see on the news, but I think, I will ignore what I have heard and have seen.
Rather, I want to get back to basics here.
I think the world is becoming inverted.
What do I mean?
I think what we have known is about to change in ways we cannot imagine.
I call it: flatline.
And I pray that what comes after is what we can live with from the best part of ourselves.
In the meantime, I’m going back to basics, stocking up on canned foods, designing vegetable gardens and rainwater collection systems.
And yes, making room and welcoming friends and family without a place to go.
May God Bless us All.
What can you make for dinner from what you have? Those potatoes growing roots, perhaps?
Updates: I added too much wheat flour to the soup and destroyed it. Note photo below:
And now looking at the photo of the cans, I wonder why one of the four tomato cans has turned its back on the camera? Hmmm, could of sworn wasn’t like that before……………..
In a nutshell,
what truly would fit?
Is there something I can share,
impart,
that you yourself,
have not thought of?
Yes,
grammar is but a tool
to help bridge the gap
in communication,
and I will flout
those rules here.
Yesterday,
did it matter,
how your hair looked?
what car you drove?
who said what about you?
If so,
you live,
still,
within,
what I would call,
a bubble,
a protected, lovely bubble,
that is no different,
than an oxygen tank.
There is a limit.
I don’t mean to bring you down,
and in fact,
I believe the great deal of you that visit
more than once
know that automatically.
What I am trying to impart,
is that,
life,
is but a knock away.
For some of us,
it can be a knock that resounds as a winning lottery ticket,
or the sense of doom,
before the knuckles fall,
but it is fallible
and ever present
unless
we
decide
otherwise.
If I am rooted in faith,
external conditions,
well,
they can try,
can’t they?
But then,
isn’t it up to me,
as to how,
insidious,
they become?
**May you be blessed and protected today. Namaste.
-Surface Earth
There is nothing I can add to what Sorrow has said in her post: It matters.
I invite you to go back and read her post again and then spread the word of her Labryinth shop, the shop is selling love and generosity to help others. Go take a peek.
“The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.”
–Edmund Burke
Dear Ones:
We are not in a point of life where we can give money to those in need. What we can do is invite you here, place your needs or petitions, if you want by location, in case of local help, but that is your choice entirely.
We will try to turn your email or comment requests into posts and some day a workable map-type web where people within localities can help each other and we can truly live a human community.
Pass this around. All are welcome. Evidently, we cannot vouch for the requests we will receive, we just ask you be guided by your heart.
The following is lifted entirely from Enreal’s site: (BTW: I WILL ANSWER ENREAL BELOW).
An interesting meme delving into the lives of other bloggers… so technically it is a YouYou and a way to “pick your brain”
The rules are:
- Choose whose brain you want to pick.
- Ask a question about what you always wanted to know from that person, never mind whether it may be indiscreet – so be cautious
- Tag (with a TrackBack) the person
Oh, yes, and of course answer the question that you were asked, more or less detailed
The answer to my question is no… I never wore braces when I was young. I did however wear really funny looking glasses. 
Now my questions…
1. Ray… have you ever wondered what it would be like to live in a different century? Which would it be?
2. Gypsy Heart… what led you to painting…( thank God for your gift)… if you could imagine doing anything else as good… what would it be?
3. Zenuria… I know of your travels and adventures… if you could have an ideal set of circumstances where you could travel and see the world… where would you go first?
4. Sorrow… what’s the first thing you would do if you became president?
5. Glaize … If you witness one natural phenomenon what would it be?
6. Cordie… If you won the lottery what is the first thing you would do?
7. Sanity… this is gonna have to be a good one… if you could spend one hour in someone elses shoes… who would it be and what would you do?
8. Spaz… Imagine living in the future… what would you look forward to?
9. Surface Earth… With all the awareness you bring to us readers… all the empathy you show… all the beautiful words you share with us… what is the one message you would leave us with?
Now to all those whom I tagged… I have come to know you well through your words and time has definitely weaved us together… through the last couple of weeks I have met new friends and read beautiful essays and works of art… I am blessed… I wish to ask all of you… What does the world look like from your view??
Wow I went a bit crazy with the tagging… have fun… can’t wait to hear your answers…
“Surface Earth… With all the awareness you bring to us readers… all the empathy you show… all the beautiful words you share with us… what is the one message you would leave us with?”
Enreal: I don’t know the “one” message. If I was compelled to leave but one, it would be “love”. I know you are not suprised by that.
The lack of love, for ourselves, is what causes the majority of issues in this world. I believe, if we could be kind to ourselves first, we would find it easier to be kind to others. The problem presents itself that we are born here, with different feelings, different language skills and are “corrected”. The process of correction erodes our natural ability to act only from love and joy. We then spend, if we are so blessed, the remainder of our days here, unlearning, again, and again.
I would say, look not with your eyes, but with your heart, and always, with kindness.
May God bless you in this and every moment. May you never forget, we are part of the whole.
I was wondering, and am still wondering, how we shape our answers.
I tried to figure out if there is a way to out fox myself. If I could pose my question in such a way that I could trick myself, then maybe I might find a different answer.
The way we post questions creates our world. It is difficult to get beyond our own perception. We may try to trace the origin of our perception, i.e. childhood, to find out where it has gone from there, but we then still move forward from the same point of origin.
I think, maybe, I am understanding the idea of the empty vessel.
This is a difficult subject.
Let me start again.
I am trying to express something that to me goes beyond words.
It began with a thought I had, every time I do a search for answers, a Google search, a search in the book store, a search by queries, verbally to people I meet in alleged real-time, my subconscious has already framed the questions to find a channel of answers.
The question then becomes, how do I get beyond myself to reach the pure channel of information or am I already in it? As long as I have this other, this human self, that speaks for me, thinks for me, writes for me…will I ever truly know what lies beyond my own sphere of perception?
Namaste! Thanks for the fireside chat.
I thought today, driving home,
ah,
sigh….the art of letters.
I don’t know how many of you can comprehend what I mean, and I certainly do not mean that from either an intellectual, emotional or spiritual capacity, I mean…….well, let’s see how it unfolds.
I mean,
the edges of my sweater, a black one of course, bought by my daughter for me, clearance Calvin, stretching across the mid-span of my palm, or in reverse, the outerside of the top of my hands, not quite at my knuckles.
I think, of fires, whether mine or others, and the timelessness of time before the advent of copiers and fax machines and cell phones you could carry without rupturing your back and the internet, remember the blue screen of seemingly nothingness?
And then bam: the virtual world and no way to turn back.
So it made me think,
ask,
remember “letters”?
You took some paper,
maybe loose leaf,
maybe left over paper and you began
the bravest of us,
started on that creamy
stationary that was stashed in a drawer for the most important of occassions.
We sat,
we thought,
we looked around,
we walked away,
we came back,
we wrote,
and wrote,
and crossed out,
then tried to not make it look like a cross out,
and oh please,
don’t get me started on “white out”,
they actually changed the brush for a sponge foam type thing
that does not work,
and we wrote.
We often started again,
the first letter to the left or right of us,
and began again,
realizing we had more cross outs
than readable spaces,
and this would repeat itself,
over several moments,
hours or days…
but we thought,
we reflected and man
we waited before sealing the envelope and sticking on that stamp
that was not ever escalating
and walking somewhere
to find the blue metal beautiful box
on the corner
calling our name.
Some of us even circled it several times and then walked away,
pocketing the letter,
folding it,
saying,
you know,
maybe some other day.
But we did not hit send,
we didn’t have the ability to have our impulse cross out our heart.
I’m missing letter writing my friends.
I want to use that blue box on the corner,
I want my time to dream between the spaces.
Abundant blessings to you. I send my heart out within an envelope and am happy to wait for a return!
Peace.
How was I to know, the journey began within and ended within?
I really didn’t.
It began so many years ago, do I dare to bore you?
I can if you want.
If you are sitting there flicking around looking for something, anything that takes you away for a moment,
take a moment and come back to yourself.
I need to believe for a moment,
that I,
you,
we,
are in the future.
We are looking back,
reading a textbook,
when humans
actually employed the use of tanks, planes and guns,
I need to believe,
in the future,
as I read the text book,
that I am compelled to look up the word:
I need to understand,
the fine line,
between,
expendable humans
and non-expendable humans.
I apologize.
I cannot find a 2008 defintion of same.
I need to understand,
how it can be anyone’s solution,
to put children in harm.
I digress.
Yet, I don’t,
it is all interconnected.
I ask,
perhaps,
what is your view,
do you not feel we should be beyond the “need” for violence
to resolve our
human dilemna?
Peace.
May we all take five minutes today to pray for same.
Sometime ago, Enreal tagged me here for a “tag”, “link”, I am never quite sure of the “nomenclature”, for a series of shared favorite quotes.
I thought, and I thought and I thought. And I realized, the quotes I like best are the ones that happen spontanouesly in the day, the ones, most often born of innocence, out of the mouths of babes they say. I continued to think. Then, the other night, I received an email from a group I read and there they were, three beautiful, pristine quotes and I knew those are the ones I wanted to share.
Enreal, thank you for keeping me thinking. Without further ado………..
“When the doors of perception are cleansed, man will see things as they truly are, infinitie.”
-William Blake
“We count our miseries carefully, and accept our blessings without much thought.”
-Chinese Proverb
“When we settle into the present moment, we can see beauties and wonders right before our eyes…”.
-Thich Nhat Hanh
—-Blessings
Dear Marian:
I share here, your artistic success: The Witch of Portobello, by Marian and the Gang
To the rest of the community, this is in part, a response to an earlier post of mine, an invitation of Paulo Coehlo, a truly cool Brasilian writer, inviting emerging film artists to participate in the interpretation of one of his books: See prior link here
Blessings.
SE
I have to believe
I gotta believe
I do believe.
In bigger, and better, and all encompassing.
I believe,
you and I,
have taken a turn being each other,
and only,
turn away,
because of the recognition of pain.
I salute,
the quiet dignity,
as a woman,
in worshipping in a belief in Islam,
quietly,
turned,
five times a day.
I believe,
in the repetition,
of the Catholic prayers,
and rejoice,
in the Catholic,
yes,
the ones,
on the wild,
holy rolling,
healing masses,
singing free.
I believe,
in the coverings,
of the women,
I have known,
and have seen,
of Jewish faith,
yes,
covered,
and not so much,
some mainstream,
perhaps,
in belief.
I believe,
in the Celts,
that danced,
under the full moon,
while still worshipping the sun.
I believe,
in the way,
my heart,
my soul,
soars on its own,
with the beauty,
of full blown
gospel singing.
It
is
not just belief,
it is knowing,
certainty,
being,
ok,
with embracing the unknown.
This I share with you.
Knowing,
I could as easily,
ask to be part of a Gospel Church,
as a Roman Catholic,
I could ask to be divided,
on the side of a curtain,
covering my head,
my arms,
past my knees,
I could ask,
to be fully wrapped,
yet,
embracing a God,
within me,
as I bow,
scraping myself upon the ground,
not in subjection,
but in praise,
and in hope, and in love.
I ask us to remember tonight,
the words brothers and sisters,
have no
racial,
cultural,
geographic,
political,
familial,
nor economic bounds
It is simply,
the divine within,
willing to see,
the divine
within others,
the ever flowing love.
Once seen,
never forgotten.
Peace be unto you.
Come along to the new page: Take Back America
Jon in on the flow of discussion for a full today and the today’s to follow.
Knowledge as defined by Merriam-Webster online includes the awareness of something, being familiar with something and the cognition of facts.
Many times, if things do not fall within our knowledge, we automiatically presume the “things” to not be true or to not exist. Funny, isn’t it?
Would it not be just as easy to presume that what we don’t know may have as great of a chance of existing as not exisisting?
For instance, why is the idea of life beyond our known Earthly world so hard for many to fathom?
Today, it takes headlines because a well known, much followed former Astronaut, Dr. Edgar Mitchell, publicly speaks that the government has been covering up the existence of other life forms for at least six decades.
Shocking?
No.
What seems more shocking to me is that we could honestly believe that we are the only living beings, race of people/intelligent life/etc. in the vast unknown of space.
See also:
I want to post something simple today.
Thanks and gratitude for my life.
This is a simple post in many ways, but I want to share, I begin…
I give thanks for the ability to receive love.
I give thanks for the ability to understand love.
I give thanks, for each part of my body, my mortal shell, that operates at its best efficiency.
I give thanks, for the numerous markets near me, to pick and choose, what shall land on my family’s plate.
I give thanks, that I can share my earnings to other family, beyond my immediate circle.
I give thanks, for the state of mind, that allows me to keep earning.
I give thanks for the ability to walk out the door, go to a store, and buy essentials that make my life easier.
I give thanks for the ability to smile in the face of adverse circumstances.
I give thanks to remember that I smiled in just such circumstances.
I give thanks for the ability to use my fingers to play across this keyboard.
I give thanks that I can stand, sit, dwell, hear and ask to pray for those that are without hope.
I give thanks that I live and was born within a county that does not stone people for adultery.
I give thanks that I can stop here and ask all of you to use the power of word and the power of prayer to hope, that only God, and not practicing mortals, decides the fate of the nine in Iran sentenced to die by stoning for alleged adultery.
I give thanks that I have the courage to ask you to stop what you are doing and send a positive prayer to the universe to save those people, our brother and sisters.
I give thanks that someday we become united again, outside the dictates of society.
I give thanks that you took a moment of your day to stop in.
Peace to you.
S.E.
I feel like writing tonight. Not sure what will land here, but I felt like sharing, or would it be, unburdening?
I have had some really interesting dreams lately, the angels teaching me about pieces of rainbows and how to turn them to heal.
A repetitive dream about escaping from one world to the next, sneaking out through a porthole, that forgive me, was I believe a toilet bowel, the deal was, I had to have faith, dive in and let myself be flushed away. The thing is, my consciousness, and my self, however you define it, came out from the other side. And then it happened again and again and again until I awoke near 5 and say ok, enough of that, bring me back to the rainbows.
The rainbows are fast and furious in my mind. If you go back to the beginning of many of my posts, there was a desperate, desperate search…I needed, wanted, demanded the answers. Could that be the lawyer in me? And then, it stopped, and it stopped, without my doing, by the immersion in silence and in nature. Now, I’m not telling you I had to be in the middle of the woods, I could have been on a busy street, on a stoop, lucky enough to have a pot of geraniums at my side, but I needed to be. And I found I could not “be” in the continuous cycle of putting on a face. Whoever that other is, that seeks to say, hey, hey – aren’t I cool, aren’t I loveable? Let me show you, you will see. Well, she went somewhere else, age, you ask? Perhaps. And if so, blessings.
The point being, there is a quiet solitutude that has nothing to do with loneliness. That may be because I am fortunate enough to be withn reservoirs of love, or is that because, becoming aware, I stepped within reservoirs of love and decided to stay put?
That’s it. Sin-e.
Best of blessings, peace, wholeness, and undoubtedly, self-healing to you. Faith can move a mountain. I have always had a problem with it, until I got out of my own way, and realized it was true.
Live from the heart.
Live honest to you.
You’ll be ok.
Peace.
Where do we begin when we sit separate; yet, never apart
in this Divine Matrix
of energy?
I wonder at times,
why I write here,
and then wonder again,
why not?
I share with you to night, a small sliver from a beautiful, beautiful book:
(an excerpt of an excerpt)
Poem by Phillip Lopate
We who are
your closest friends
feel the time
has come to tell you
that every Thursday
we have been meeting,
as a group,
to devise ways
to keep you
in perpetual uncertainty
frustration
discontent and
torture
by neither lovng you
as much as you want
nor cuttng you adrift.
Your analyst is
in on it,
plus your boyfriend
and your ex-husband;
and we have pledged
to disappoint you
as long as you need us.
In annoucing our
association
we realize we have
placed in our hands
a possible antidote
against uncertainty
indeed against ourselves.
But since our Thursday nights
have brought us
to a community
of purpose
rare in itself
with your as
the natural center,
we feel hopeful you
will continue to make unreasonable
demands for affection
if not as a consequence
of your disastrous personality
then for the good of the collective.
For the absolute beautiful narrative leading up to and including this piece, pick up and read:
Anne Lamott
“Bird by Bird, Some Instructions on Writing and Life.”
Peace to you.
What is the story that you have not told?
Is there only one?
Is it the story that creeps upon you in the darkest part of the night,
or the one,
in the full light of the Sun,
that glares at you,
on your way to work,
daring you to deceive it?
Do you have a story untold?
One that would free your heart,
if only,
for a moment,
you were the breath
of air
that lit
the
embers
of the fire?
the most profound thing
I have heard in awhile,
is…
“there really is no Earth,
it is only dressed up,
as the Earth.”
anonymous, 5 years old
Today,
I draft a contract to myself,
one you may find amusing,
resourceful or contemplative.
I begin…
Today
I honor myself
as I did
before I knew either
the definition
or
the spelling
of honor
Today
I honor myself
as a child
with the face
turned
to the
Sun
Today
I honor myself
and forgive
my past
lack of realization
Today
I honor myself
and forgive
my past
perceived
mistakes
Today
I honor myself
and forgive
you
for what
I thought
or
think you
have done
Today
I honor myself
and covenant
that if I cannot think with love
I will neutralize
my thoughts
and think
without judgment
Peace to you today. You are beautiful.
To sit in the hands,
the palms of God,
is to live,
without fear.
Tonight,
I need to offer prayers for those I know,
and those I have come across.
Recently,
I have met,
and have known,
spiritual people,
battling odds.
I ask tonight,
that you join me,
and offer up loving intents,
not focused on their issues,
the lack,
but on the positive,
to imagine and visualize
the people I speak of,
as
whole
and beautiful
and healthy.
Think healthy,
think whole,
think loved.
I thank you in advance.
You are beautiful souls.
Peace be unto you.
I think I get it now.
I understand the positive, positive and positive bent of some of my fellow bloggers.
I finally get,
to focus on negativity is to beget negetavity.
No two ways about it.
Love resonates at a higher level.
If we embrace moments with the reflection of love,
we actually
engage
an
alchemic
change.
Hard to swallow,
because really,
who wants to believe
themselves
responsible
for the lowest moments of their lives?
Reverse,
suppose we learn we are,
and then can
unlearn
the negativity?
Peace.
Green is cool. I’m all for it. Probably because I’m not quite centered in this world and simply believe we forget to tele-transport ourselves.
I digress.
I do in fact have some kind of point. The point will though meander, be forewarned.
Here are my thoughts on Go Green.
The North East is about to experience a heat wave.
Unemployment rates have soared.
Million dollar homes are in foreclosure.
So?
I now rinse glass and plastics and ask myself, hmmm, what can this hold? Can this hold lentils, rice, vegetables from the garden? GARDEN? Yes, despite the deer, we are trying to grow one.
Ripped up clothes? I keep them. I can make rags or quilts or whatever, and yes, you may have guessed, I am not a gifted seamstress, I am an idea girl, better off spinning tales then making them come to light.
So what does Go Green mean to most of us?
Survival.
Plain and simple.
Solar panels.
Wind turbines to the extent we can make or otherwise afford them on our roofs.
Making gallons of decaf chilled green tea, pans of baked ziti, organic cookies, whatever and everything in advance before the heat index hits 100 tomorrow. And if the power fails?
Oh boy, we better eat up and eat up quick, thank God the oregano, basil, sage, rosemary and dill hit fruition. Between that and bottles of water, we will get by.
So, what is Go Green to you?
I call it the new survival economy.
Peace to you and yours.
S.E.
It is not without a certain amount of humility that I write this post.
I am not schooled in politics.
There is something within me that blocks the flow of politics, voices in the media screeching and making me recoil, like mad ravens at a window.
I don’t have much use for “politics”. But I am not so naive as to believe I have the alternative, right, best answer for the world.
Yes, Obama doesn’t have the “past”. Isn’t that why some of us like him, want him, even, as our next President?
In many ways, a Presidential hopeful, and a President, are no different than you or I. It embodies one voice, that position, one; yes, one meant to be held and heard with more fervor and weight, but that is only if we continue to play the sliding scale of humanity we somehow unwittingly inherited and continue to propogate.
What do I hear when the call sounds: “O-Bam-A”?
I hear hope for a new tomorrow. I feel something resonate that has to do with the heart of humanity.
I hear a universal voice.
I can doubt him, why not, it’s what we are taught to do, but I feel, I would rather cast my stones in the basket of hope, we are what we believe and what we manifest. So much more so, if we dare to believe.
Peace.
I read many articles. Many books. Many reflect the path back to ourselves.
If I’m to be “honest” with you, should I be anything else? I would tell you, I believe there is only one “teaching”, one “truth”, whether it is called healing, spirituality, health, religion, love, etc.
The only truth is the heart.
Now this could be confusing because where does the soul then come in?
All I know is the soul and the heart are inextricably woven, not disparate, not separate, so I’m not sure if it matters what I call it.
I can practice yoga to get to my heart.
I can preach pretty words to get to your heart.
In the end, it is the path isn’t it, that divides, sometimes joins and other times enlightens us…the path to a singular, yet timeless, unlimited space. Within and beyond us.
Namaste.
Sometimes
there is nothing
left to say
you go hollow
empty
beyond reason.
Yet,
is it a bad
place
to be?
The space in between?
Have you ever felt
the moments
when they stretch
when time defies logic
in fact
when “time” is not
even present?
When it, you, life, just is?
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:
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:
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?
Enreal tagged me for a very cool meme. (My keen sense of observation has finally lead me to post a link to the original author: Bookbabie)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….
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
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!”
Signing off, free mason sign discreetly at left side of video.
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:
Heather Blakey on Squidoo: Ravens
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……………
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
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:
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 
===========================
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:
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:
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!)
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.
