Posts Tagged ‘Thoughts’
I never thought I’d do improvisational comedy. It was one of those things in life that I felt I couldn’t do; I closed the door on that one. (more…)
Not seeing results from your workouts? Getting frustrated with finding the right fitness routine? The problem may not be with your fitness program but with a lack of consistency. (more…)
Until recently, North Carolina was the one speck of blue in a sea of red. (more…)
The trial continues of Anders Breivik, the mass murderer who embarked on a killing spree on the 22nd of July, 2011. (more…)
The interesting news of the week (easy to find through major search engines, and usually they end up being on the Telegraph) are heartwarming most of the time. (more…)
One of the most controversial topics in our society is the body of women. The issues related to this irrelevant biological accident in the lives of female human beings that is the body are many and often contrasting. (more…)
When I thought about writing this essay, blog, (whatever it turns out to be), I had several real attention grabbing, and very witty, opening lines. (more…)
The body of the 54th woman to be killed by a man (boyfriend, friend, relative) in Italy has been found after having been missing for two days. (more…)
Tonight, while a couple of foxes hunted for food in my garden, I noticed that Google’s logo had the look of the Alice in Wonderland attraction in Disneyland Paris but I couldn’t figure out why. (more…)
So the other day I was having a discussion with a friend. (more…)
I wasn’t really sure what to write my first time out so I opted to give you some random thoughts of mine. (more…)
On Wednesday morning, the bodies of the four people killed in the shootings at a Jewish School in Toulouse, France, arrived in Jerusalem for burial, and the nation came together as one family in grief. (more…)
While 2011 was a challenging year for the construction industry due to rising material costs that resulted in multiple bankruptcies, 2012 may not fare any better for construction companies. (more…)
Kony 2012 is, to me, the latest patronising hype of the Good Western Society for the poor Africans, who are not as developed as us. (more…)
My adventure to Costa Rica began when I found a job teaching at the Pan American School, an international bilingual high school outside of San Jose. (more…)
A few days ago I stumbled across an episode of the David Letterman show which advertised the tickets for the Super Bowl for a price that I really cannot remember, but was absolutely high. (more…)
Are you attempting to get your boyfriend right back after you cheated? After that you’re not by itself. All over the world, people are trying to return a good ex-lover after a break-up. The truly exciting information is: simply because individuals get back together all the time, it’s not difficult you will too. (more…)
It was time for a change. My best friends here, Carlos, Monse, and Jacob, had either returned to the US or were about to. (more…)
I have been paying little attention to the news, or the journalists underline the bad in the world and forget about all the good, but the impression I have nowadays is that our world is full of violence, and we have no more place to repress it. (more…)
There are some things you dread. With just the thought of them your entire body convulses, and your mind, for a brief moment, is overcome with fear. (more…)
There are no street names in Costa Rica. There are no house numbers. There are no mailboxes. Ok…so how do you get around? How do you receive mail? (more…)
While the Occupy Wall Street movement officially discourages violence at protests, there have been some clashes between the protesters and local police in highly populated areas.
In a time when being “first” in Reno usually means topping the list of something bad, Reno residents are amused to see that Google has picked us for something good… we hope. (more…)
As I sit at my desk, overlooking an orange orchard and the mountains in the distance with the sea behind me, I wonder if I’m over exaggerating the growing sense of unease and dissatisfaction I feel. (more…)
I have come to a conclusion.
I want JOY even in the face of adversity.
Adversity has it’s own demonic seduction, pulling the participant down, down, down, further, which can be a dramatic experience.
To hold out for joy though, even while undergoing adversity, is to give adversity a kick in its backside, to say screw you, you don’t get to own all of me.
It is a commitment, a willingness, not to let the beautiful childlike parts of ourselves disappear.
It’s a snow angel on a stormy day.
It’s popping soap bubbles floating and casting rainbows, not to destroy them, but to be a part of a larger imagining.
There is no reason to ever disown the primordial elements of me.
How about you?
I am the glass shattered
On a clear
Appearing as ice
On an otherwise
I am the dove
Holding her sound
Of the gray sky
I am the mountain
Beneath the sun
Holding the tendrils
To not unleash
Upon the plains
I am the air
Whether or not
You call me
*image credit: Adobe
I think it’s time for a bit of a rambling post.
Let’s take two different and yet somehow related issues:
1. Streaks of misfortune; and
2. Decision to maybe stop reading/watching any mainstream media.
You may ask, as I did, what could these two things possibly have in common? Well, it’s a long meandering discussion, not quite a conclusion.
Let’s say for instance you believe, on what basis doesn’t matter, that the space around us is becoming choked with negativity.
The TV signals, the cable signals, the phone signals, the texting, the twitting tweeters, the emails, the blogs, the constant pouring out of media, media, media and advertisement into the vortex which surrounds. Do we really think it is invisible and without effect?
The signals pass by us when we are awake and asleep, passing geographical boundaries drawn on an ever changing map, passing gender boundaries, cultural and religious boundaries also. Passing over, intersecting, overlapping belief systems centuries old. Yet, we only think of it as communication. (What we can’t see, can’t hurt us, right?)
Yet, as I drive down the street, how do I not know that someone’s email transmission is hurtling straight through me and altering my own energetic path?
Whether we agree or don’t agree as to the form of negative thought, emotions, intent, etc., the reality is, negativity exists. If I hurt, I know it is true, because I feel it. If I am angry, I know it is true, because I feel it. If I am negative, I know it is true because I feel it. Yet, I don’t look for proof of it, I don’t require a statistical analysis, I don’t require to hold it in my hand, because I know it to be true.
So also do I know that the information we send through invisible networks is true. It appears on my t.v., it appears on my phone, it appears on my computer. Where then, is the substance?
Where do the moments of grief, sadness, anger, frustration, loss, negativity, the sum total of the mass of those emotions, reside? Do they all get delivered into the inbox? Does only a fraction of the emotion get delivered and part remain with the sender and the other diffused particles scatter catching others unaware, an unintended and unexpected blue moment? (p.s. never understood why we insult the word blue in such a way).
I think we are choking the air around us. When CNN or FoxNews blares, Alert! Alert! Alert! and then you find it is just another piece on Dave Letterman, you have to wonder, what are we receiving? 1. The intention to create sensation; and 2. the hopes and dreams of the staff that created the piece, bringing in their own liFe stories, needs, desires and frustrations; and 3. a willingness to disregard where else we maybe should be heading as society. That is a short list, but I ask you, where does the essence, the energy, of numbers 1, 2 and 3 land?
If I have a day, when the oven starts to malfunction, the washer broke, the windows are leaking and walls disintegrating and then the microwave inexplicitaly begins to smoke, do I say: 1. hmm, guess they are all at their life expectancy; or 2. I’m receiving some bad energy and need to re-balance? (Do we dare mention buying the microwave, bringing it home, only to find out it is defective? No, let’s just skip that for now.)
At the expense of sounding mad, I’m going with #2. There’s too much bad energy being drawn in.
I believe the air around us is becoming dense, the emotions we are flinging into the invisible realm are starting to reflect back, after all, even if we can’t see it, our words are going somewhere, they are disrupting and altering space on their travels, how can we possibly believe otherwise?
With all the chatter in the media about Congress spending $500 Billion for this and $500 billion for that, we thought it worthwhile to put all that cash in perspective. I have held a few $20 bills in my hand, so I can imagine what a few hundred dollars would look like, or perhaps even one thousand dollars. But a million dollars? A billion dollars?
This is $10,000 in $100 bills.
Can you choose your color today, or must others still do that for you? Can anyone of us with mixed heritage be predominantly called by just one name? More importantly, what does that say about the heritage you choose (or is chosen for you), and the heritage not chosen? It appears to me that regardless of your standing in society, regardless of your accomplishments or natural talents, you still must choose a color – or one will be chosen for you. (more…)
Senator Edward Kennedy (1932-2009)
[Photo Credit: AP]
In regards to civil rights, health, and the economic well-being of the average American, few elected officials anywhere have accomplished as much. (more…)
“Throw in a few billion here and a few billion there, and before you know it, you are talking about real money…” . I don’t recall who first coined that phrase, (I think it was in the late ’80s), but when I first heard it, it was Millions not Billions! (more…)
[Photo credit: Ahmad Masood/Reuters]
Without much of a fuss made by the media, if even reported at all, last month Afghanistan’s new Shiite Personal Status Law was put into effect. The law grants Shiite men the legal right to starve their wives if their sexual demands are not met. These sexual demands are not defined or limited by the law. The law also requires Shiite women to obtain permission from their husbands to even leave their home. Parental custody is solely the father’s or, in his absence, the paternal grandfather. Incredibly, the law also allows a rapist to avoid prosecution by paying “blood money” to a girl who was injured when he raped her. That payment, of course, is offered to the father, paternal grandfather or the brothers of the raped girl. (more…)
Many times when asking for advice, some of us start out, not realizing we want our own opinion or belief confirmed.
Then, we become frustrated with the person speaking to us that we sought out to begin with, the unwitting victim.
Next time you seek advice, seek counsel from yourself first, ask:
what is it I’m hoping to hear?
what are the chances I will hear what it is I want?
Would it be better if I just recorded my own voice to play back the words as often as I desire?
In the news, at least for some of us that still troll negative publicity, is the story of a Florida priest, sharing love with a woman.
Not a problem right?
Except that he made a ‘promise’ to not engage in certain types of love.
I wish I could condemn him, or his partner, but I can’t. I can say, it is easier that if you can’t uphold a promise you previously made that you graciously excuse yourself from same and explain accordingly. But life as we know it is not conducive to forgiveness.
Let’s pretend for a moment that this young priest came out, went public and said I’m struggling here, I took a vow of celibacy but I have found myself grappling with a whole different dimension of God’s love that I never knew I would need to grapple with, despite same, I’m grappling with it and ask your forgiveness, your understanding, your assistance to learn in which way to progress.
Not possible, because social media really doesn’t allow for this does it?
I could go on and on, but I won’t, I would rather hear from you and ask that you pray for the priest and his loved one to find their way.
If I were to dream but then awake
yet hovered between the two
would it be the time awake
or time asleep
that was more true?
Can I hold
The rainbow that I see
Shoving down to
Mix with the lint
And remains of my day
If I can’t do that
Does it mean
I or would it be,
Or ceased to exist?
I know not what I do
in the moment before doing.
I stumble on this path
what it is
what I have said
what I have done
to hurt you.
i think sometimes
but on paper
or would that be
the blank canvas of this page?
i let the words
not seizing them
not taking them hostage
account for themselves.
i grab a pen
or a keyboard
and make them
make themselves known
the cycle of words
why would I want
to be them?
against and under
arms draped down
of fingers pricked
under a machine
within dark enclosed space
the only sky
the kiss of the immortal
As I sell myself
not as nice as I used to be
half as nice
as I may be tomorrow
I kick at the confines
soap bubbles dispersing
in the water
my fingernail scratches
the outer edges
beginning to claw
at the edge
light from beneath
resting on the counter
dishes pulled from the washer
a cycle complete
The trees began to curl into themselves
color themselves in the light
of Fall colors.
The edges began to creep,
and creep further in,
and every time they did,
would curl up their toes,
closer to their immortal legs,
The ledges of time
and the Faeries knew,
there were not too many daylight hours
left to hide.
They unfurled in the night,
unbent from the leaves,
from human eyes.
how they thanked the darkness for the need
They slipped from the leaves,
stretching their limbs,
nimbly alighting hundreds of feet to the ground,
to start the next day’s work
on the century’s task.
they had agreed to.
(more later) (copyright, The Faeries, S.E.)
Are we ever just this one thing?
I think not.
Unless we only evaluate in the space of frozen time.
My girl, my prior header on my previous design blog, she shines; yet, I changed her time and time again. I have photos of her change, all of which I have not posted. it was an expose of moments and I dared to paint and repaint the canvas.
The point is, none of us are ever just one thing, and when we judge others, we freeze them in time. We see an encapsulated moment, while still, perhaps, allowing ourselves evolution.
Ah, so now what, my friends, now what? Shall we move on?
the Earth fell from beneath my feet
but it was not
an unusual occurrence
the same occurred.
I put my feet upon the ground,
I lifted my arms,
and looked to the windows,
i hung scraps of cloth,
to obscure the view.
It does not matter.
I know there are times,
we belong to no one
but ourselves and God in our heart,
and those moments are
they are the moments,
when the rest of the world
not come through our door uninvited
and we have moments
just for thanks and gratitude
that we are
in those moments ok.
It will be the harrowing moments after
of self realization
CNN or Fox News
where we may doubt our own
So long as we hold
in the moments in between
we can gather courage
in a pocket
promising a different now.
Peace to you. We send such loving thoughts your way.
When you live on the edge of the rainbow,
hanging on to the hue,
may not matter.
When you live on the edge of the rainbow,
it is moments,
When you live on the edge of the rainbow,
you hold on,
by a thread,
by a handful,
if you like the color,
you have grasped.
When you live on the edge of the rainbow,
hang with you.
In my hand
the promise of today
which was the breath,
In my hand,
of a moment,
In my hands,
of a new tomorrow,
watch my fingers spread,
reaching to the horizon,
refusing to meet,
a dividing line.
In my hands,
the spark of hope,
I dare not look,
if it exists,
but close my eyes,
sand of time,
to become affixed,
within my eyelashes,
so short these days.
the space of time,
as I hold it,
in my heart,
and send to you.
What is the sound,
of one heart,
What is the sound,
can there be,
when no one outside of yourself
can hear it?
Or is sound,
into gesture and face?
Can we hear the sound
of a heart breaking
in visual imagery?
if you will,
through a moment in time,
when life becomes reversed,
when the difference,
between what is and what isn’t,
is no difference at all,
where there are no lines.
Imagine if you will,
the wrong look,
the wrong intonation,
the wrong laugh,
that is all it takes
to make you into
What is the sound,
of a heart breaking?
What does it mean,
to be the other?
Who must you be first,
where must you stand,
of your brothers
May peace be with you.
In a nutshell,
what truly would fit?
Is there something I can share,
that you yourself,
have not thought of?
grammar is but a tool
to help bridge the gap
and I will flout
those rules here.
did it matter,
how your hair looked?
what car you drove?
who said what about you?
what I would call,
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 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
If I am rooted in faith,
they can try,
isn’t it up to me,
as to how,
**May you be blessed and protected today. Namaste.
Where do we begin when we sit separate; yet, never apart
in this Divine Matrix
I wonder at times,
why I write here,
and then wonder again,
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
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
we realize we have
placed in our hands
a possible antidote
indeed against ourselves.
But since our Thursday nights
have brought us
to a community
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:
“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,
for a moment,
you were the breath
of the fire?
the most profound thing
I have heard in awhile,
“there really is no Earth,
it is only dressed up,
as the Earth.”
anonymous, 5 years old
To sit in the hands,
the palms of God,
is to live,
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 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.
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?
Plain and simple.
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.
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.
there is nothing
left to say
you go hollow
is it a bad
The space in between?
Have you ever felt
when they stretch
when time defies logic
when “time” is not
When it, you, life, just is?
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.
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.
Life does not stop to hold us
We only grasp
Against the matrix
of continuing energy
The close of the night
Brings sweet sorrow
There is a cure
a shorter list
I saw a sign this morning in front of a small church:
God forgets the past-
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.
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.
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,
You wonder sometimes,
how it can be,
that the same darkness
can breed such separate sets of emotion,
but it happens,
Just like in the day.
I was touched this evening,
by words in a book,
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
I want to tell you
how the sun looks
against the trees
my loyal readers
i ran outside
but picked the camera
without a card
you to see
what I see
of the end
to get that for you
because that is often
all it is
may you brighten
Do you ever wonder,
why you are here?
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,
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,
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,
and grabbed her,
and she held,
and she stepped,
into the time,
that was not defined.
She was gone.
She spent the days after,
maybe only once,
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,
she arose the next day,
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,
the sun playing across the cement,
the butter in her hand,
without the excuse of bread.
The way the sun
sat upon the world,
And in this moment,
this fresh, new Spring,
if the girl,
will have her back.
Don’t criticize yourself
there may already
a long line
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
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
We don’t know
It’s not then pretend,
I make rules
On Your speech
When I defend others
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
I want to scoop
Up the pain
In the world and tend to it
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
When my feet hit Your contours
I want to say
I am sorry for being ashamed
I am sorry
I apologize for who I am
that would bow
kiss the dandelion
between the cement slabs
The Lord God
He lives within
the valley of my days
and wrings His hands
set the water to warm
with a handtowel
as the stopper
stopped long ago
as I take one of ten
of a pack
and sink them into the water
and two of four
of a pack
and sink them
I wish organic
beneath the trickle
I have withstood time
I have taken
of a woman in business
and parceled them to
a value pack
and have further
beneath my tap
I have laid
the efforts of my days
against the cracked
tile of the tub
within the graying water
the rest that
keeps me whole
along the path
of my legs
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 can give you verbatim
Of this ordinary; yet, unusual mind of mine
Or I can stay silent
Bait at the
End of the string_
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.
He was given
on which to count
feet beneath me
the depth of a chair
on the edge of my being
fingers on the edge
I should hold on
to send you a picture
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
into the foam of the ocean caps
the toes I sometimes
I dip them in
those little things
I dip them in and out
do you see them now?
those five points
dipped in foam?
sprayed against the
horizon of the sky
against the epicenter
of the unknown?
on the edge
of a moss covered rock
into the clear
clear waters of a meandering stream
I watch what I think
never moving rocks
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
when they sucked my breath
know how to say
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
I bowed my head
And allowed the definition
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!
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.
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.
If I take a moment
And affix upon you
My battered eyes
I will not see
If I take a moment
The eyes I used
As a child
I will see
It comes down now-or should I say they?
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
To rush to the window
On the tip
And waiver there
Into the glass
why it is
what anything means.
what it is
makes awake each day,
knowing that we don’t know.
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.
The wind takes away
the bitter seeds
on an otherwise
there is a difference
in the dimension of the
of the wind
a sweet breeze plants the hope for a new season
that which was tilled
the fierce, almost howl of the talons of the wind
like a hailstorm
through the day
what was never meant to be planted
I thank both the fierce winds
and the sweet breeze of my existence
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…
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.
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.
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:
“You already are a starfish.”
“See, it really works.”
Just a simple matter of perspective………..
How many times in our life are we within these moments?
Unfounded, unlimited happiness? Moments within which we feel neither the finality of morality, nor the limit of our beginnings?
I read today, or was it yesterday, on The Naked Soul: To Whose Beat Are You Marching To…, about stripping ourselves bare of the expectations of others that we carry, the expectations that have become our own.
I see a lost girl in a train station, too many bags too carry alone, no idea as to what is packed within them, but all stamped “necessary”.
Now I wish I could give you the visual of this, that I had the acumen of some of my fellow bloggers to insert the proper pictures within the proper space of the words, and someday I will, but for now, believe, that there is a space between the words where only visuals can be captured and then there is yet a larger space, although often undetectable, where only the emotion without words or pictures exists. In that space, only faith of heart exists.
into this world
are the words,
what we don’t question
is whether the feelings
are our feelings.
Are these my emotions?
My way of seeing the world?
Then we read too much, we write too much, we See too much,
may not be ours.
and look around,
Ok, I must ask, have we nothing better to do with ourselves than criticize Britney Spears?
I glossed over news articles the — news? —last few days but today’s headline stopped me in my tracks:
Actually, it is some of the headlines quoted within the headline of the above CNN article that got me going.
You see, I watched the awards and what I saw was someone who maybe was a bit nervous, maybe not, but that was my impression of the young woman. The second thing that hit me was, wow, she had two kids, isn’t she in wonderful shape?
Is she that much of a threat to some part of society I am unaware of that even her body must take verbal abuse?
Maybe it’s just me, but the use of the word “fat”, the existence of the word, just seems plain ludicrous. So does the constant criticism of the young woman most of us will never know. Have to wonder, why is it that so many enjoy seeing others down, and if in fact not down, well then certainly throwing enough energy their way to hopefully land them there?
I feel as I imagine it would be to be the river or a gurgling creek.
I find that there are moments when I have what some may call an intolerance for words. It is ironic because I earn my daily bread with words. It is ironic because I live to read. It is ironic because some of the greatest beauty I find in this world is how words sing, hum beyond the confines we put upon them, caging them in with alphabets and dialects.
Words though carry power. The absence of words also carries power.
I have met people in life that need words but appear to me not to even know they need them. Words rush from their mouths in torrents, chronicling minute details of their days and I sit and watch the mouth of the person speaking, the person’s eyes, the way the skin on their face moves and all of this observation somehow takes the place of me being able to hear the words themselves, I hear something beyond them, so when the pause comes as it does inevitably, I find myself still in this other dimension, the land of lost words, and nothing comes out of my mouth. I am in a place where I don’t know how to convert this “new” language, the language that goes beyond mere letters and I am silent. It does not mean I have not heard, thought, analyzed, emoted…I simply can’t translate these sensations into a comprehensible language.
When I say as I did above that I feel peaceful, it may not be the generally understood meaning of peaceful. I mean instead not that I am free of issues or “troubles”, but I am free of my need to hold onto them. Yes, they exist, but I also know a moment will come when those same issues will not exist, perhaps they will have taken a new form, but they do not weave themselves tightly into the fabric of the internal me. And this is what I mean by feeling like the river or the gurgling creek, I flow.
You can hurt people considerably by not being able to deliver to them what they need from you in a particular moment. It does not make them wrong, it does not make you wrong, but the hurt sits there, like an elephant in the room.
The question becomes, what do you do with the elephant? In my case, nothing, I walk past it if there are no peanuts in my pocket. Does it mean I don’t care about the elephant? No. It simply means that some things are bigger than us and have their own rhythms and the best we can do is flow with our own rhythms.
By flowing with our own rhythms, we come closer to allowing ourselves to be, and in doing so, stand a fair chance of also letting others simply be. Perhaps this is how I envision harmony or Heaven, where the levels of energy flow and do not push against each other.
So, be a river today, be a gurgling creek, just be.
Sometimes, it is ok to write for the sheer pleasure of writing, what I otherwise call the unleashing.
It is then also ok, to step into the quiet space.
When I studied Kabbalah, a huge portion of what I studied was to be in a place of no judgment.
Intellectually, I could not grasp it, isn’t having an opinion always a judgment?
Or is it what you do with that opinion? If you breath life into it, if you fuel it without regard for where the recipient may be standing?
Do we have an underlying obligation to understand our audience before we judge? Before we opine? Before we cast the sword of unilateral intent?
I believe we do.
I know the power and the damage of words.
I know the importance of standing up, not just for oneself, but for countless others.
I also know, words are like stones cast, they are sure to land somewhere, and who are we at the end of the day, to dictate what someone else should feel?
I don’t know.
I know it is unfair to suffocate another’s heart, another’s opinion, I wonder, can we suffocate in reverse? By not adding more words, timber, to the fire, do we suffocate those who need that interaction?
Where is the balance then? How do we learn to not judge? How do we learn to not judge in our not judging?
MotherWinterMoon has previously interested me in Hooponopono.
Now, I am barely at the crawling stage of learning about this Ancient Hawaiian tradition, to learn more you need to jump over to the Tag Cloud on MotherWinterMoon’s site.
I received an email today about a book by Joe Vitale, entitled: “Zero Limits: The Secret Hawaiian System for Wealth, Health, Peace and More.”
I think it may be worth a read, then again, I like to read and am always looking for new books. I’m wondering, has anyone read this, and if so, any thoughts?
This morning, my brain was wandering and I realized that the energy of my search, my frenzied search to not only have all the answers at once, but to have the most simple of all answers at once, in regard to faith and spirituality, has slowed down.
I have a faith in God and always have for some reason. I no longer even know why except it is a part of me.
I do not believe in any one religion being the only right religion. I believe in the path of the human heart.
For some reason, the last few weeks, I feel less resistance, less need to struggle. Now that doesn’t mean I’m not still searching, remaining open and pausing when I see what I consider to be signs of other things that I don’t know, maybe can’t know, until I evolve in some other way, some other time.
In the meantime, I’m going to let my heart be the guide and not try to be right or know it all, and not be so hard on myself for not moving ahead in this evolution faster.
I’m going to go day by day and see the small miracles and welcome new revelations and love with an open heart doing the things I must and the things I enjoy.
I find it timely that this morning, Ronnie over at OutofmyHead sent a link to a news story she knew I would enjoy on Mother Teresa and I felt compelled to share it with the rest of you.
Posted: 2007-08-24 10:40:51
Filed Under: World News
(Aug. 24) In life, she was an icon for believers of God’s work on Earth. Her ministry to the poor of Calcutta was a world-renowned symbol of religious compassion. She was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.
Photo Gallery: ‘Please Forgive Me’
The nun, right, ministers to the poor in Calcultta, India, in 1979. “Where is my faith?” she wrote after starting work there. “Even deep down … there is nothing but emptiness and darkness. … If there be God — please forgive me.”
I ask myself, no, I hesitate as I type this, do I really ask myself?
I think not. I think I know, no, I know I know, what enrichment is….
It is a day not long ago, a trying one, and just when a pause interspersed itself, Louis Armstrong came on, singing Hello Dolly and I heard my grandfather singing, singing like Louis. Yeah, I know, no one sings like Louis, but if you heard my grandfather, you too would shake your head.
I read Ronnie’s post on The Door to the Universe is You and it fit, it resonated, and I said, damn, I thought my landscape was limited, I thought, with my headlamp, flashlight, and pickax meandering through the labryinth of my mind that I could find the creased bits of parchment to give me the map to the treasure chest, but you see, in my mind, in my search, the treasure chest had boundaries…I read Ronnie’s post, the door to the universe is you, and my heart exploded.
Let me add, as I wrote this, my husband, that beautiful man, was trying to get us ahead, up on a stool, changing lights and before I could type the word “exploded”, well, the bulb crashed to the ground, and yes, it exploded everywhere.
So am I enriched? More than I can describe. It is the hug of a child, slippery from the bath, throwing him upon a deep comforter to cushion the fun, the giggles, the sheer delight in the moment.
We are what we decide, no matter what life hands us. And yes, I have been handed lemons, but heck, it’s easy make lemonade. The thing is, I can’t help the lemons I have been given, so what choice is there? I’m in charge of me, I decide how I feel.
I have learned, I have many hats, I decide which ones I wear and when, and sometimes, just sometimes, I wear them all at once.
I sit within a section of time
I have placed myself in the center
of a yet unfolded cardboard box
I follow the arrows
further the crease at the folds
one by one
the four sides
I am sitting
within my slice of time
unaware as to the continuum
the rain falls against the air
creating a curtain
drawing light from within
the appearance of morning
it glows within in its own making
the box has a lid
I attempt to draw down
there is no handhold
there is no way
to close and seal
the last piece