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11月8日 a personal ventingIt hurts (doesn't it) when you realize that someone you thought you could always count on (no matter what, especially if you were dying) is and never will be there for you...not for all the lifetime you thought you'd share. Certainly it is bitter a drink as hemlock and it carries all the potent disastrous results. Abandonment. Aloneness. The man who went on that rampage at F. Hood was said to have asked someone at the mosque where he worshiped, to help him find a wife. It's cold out there when no one is there -- if only to hear you, hold you, become a part of you and your living of your life. America has to stretch to a higher Vision. We can no longer be all for all. No one holds that ability more sacred than I; however, we must bring all those human beings, etched like ants on such desolate terrain, we must bring them home. We must set our own house in order. President Obama, I hope you are hearing the cries to set this ship aright, bring the USA back to the finest nation on the planet. We can no longer run interference for so many small countries who desperately need food, etc. IF we do anything, it must be on that contingent: To provide food, basic essentials of living, medical care (we can't even get ours right yet!) What more must happen, how many more innocents will be forfeited for this game of WAR WARS exist because human beings like to "play". (primarily the male element) If the manufacturers of toys for children would stop making WAR toys, games, VIDEO games where the most points come from having KILLED some other assessed bad guy. Unless and until MONEY is taken off the throne for those who worship it, we have no chance. No one has to be poor. Just funnel the creative minds and channel the ideals and ideas for such consumers that bring them to a new vision. IT IS ALL ABOUT THE VISION. Egos, as ever, rule the lives of billions. How do you all sleep at night knowing that somewhere a child is dying from starvation, wounded soldiers giving their all are bleeding out...out of their bodies, out of hope, out of patience, out of seeing a way home. My insides grieve for those who have lost and for those yet to be lost. We were Promised CHANGE, Mr. President. I voted for you and continue to be as strong as ever your ally. If there were something I could do to alleviate the burden you bear in all this I would, gladly. YOU are my hope because your Dream is my dream. One that goes back eons, past any known written History, humankind has found ways and means to making killing one another easier, faster. How can a human being have all the values instilled inside them from their youth, just drop them and hop a plane and begin to kill; return, whole or injured, and automatically be that same human being? I said when you were elected that I believed we were turning a GREAT PAGE IN THE HISTORY OF HUMANKIND. And because it is so big, it would take all our efforts to turn, to change the motion, the momentum that we have threaded our lives upon. As a parent and a grandparent I am sick with the thought of leaving my dearest loved ones a governing body that is rotten deep in its core. I wish President Obama could have more than two terms. He has tremendous powers of definitions that seek to sway and relay the CHANGE we need. Everybody wants things to be different, but only so long as nothing has to change. No, that's too hard. 10月27日 who/what/where/when....
7月6日 It's already been said...We are all so unexceptional human beings. We think we've created the "top of the most." Spend some time there and you find that to believe what you were taught was riddled with holes where truth should be, shreds and tears where love could be. Nobody wants to start over again; but that is what you have to do when you have come to an undeniable end. Your innermost thoughts must be refined over and over again, as you are on a Journey that has no map. Neither let your self be so foolishly defined by the accords of your passing time. Open your mind and let the truth shine. We dance around fires of ages and riches wherein we get caught. I know it's hard to look at anything that doesn't wear or share your Icon as though that were the depth of the well that mattered. Alarmingly revealed: "It's already been said, done or thought." Michael Jackson's passing laid that again realization before me. He was intensively creative, generous, caring and talented. Whatever anyone's judgment is on his character, his gifts in the arts, his open hearted philanthropy --- they are become as dark as the passage of the darkest night. He was "accused." After many weeks in a court room, before a judge, attorneys, an audience of the interested, he was declared INNOCENT of all charges made against him. Therein the media is badgered and badgering of all who will hear. "...the evil men do live on after they are gone, " while the good they did is somewhere else hid. In all of Shakespeare's lore is this particle of sand; just as all that a person may do to benefit their time, the wealth of WHO they were will be summed up by the connection of their footprints left in a trace of mud. Doesn't matter that the birth of Truth was still born when the hush hush was washed away. Human beings do not seem to be able to function without judgment upon the lesser blessed, the frown dressed face betrays all disgrace. Bias bred and ugly fed, the state of anybody goes down with a little more and more agreeing the same named game, the majority's hot toddy...while our values and traditions are chased away by heated desert winds and coarse swirling sand, searching without rest, in our futile exercise to understand. Lifestyles are never going to be the same, not as they were or were expected to ever be. Gone, all gone. Surely there's a musical chord that allows for all that. Beyond our lives, all of our tries, we must not forget how little it once took to bring happiness to dance and boogie smiles to far flung faces ... gathering the many unknown to come and commune with their own. To tiny bodies not fed, look and become the ONE, moving as such across a glistening sky, mirrored in the dust of some long lost Dune. Remember to be quiet, quiet as the moon, so you will hear the voices penetrate eons past, singing too. Holding onto the common just to blend in, is a dangerous game sure to find a desperate end. Regardless of how old you grow, strip the flesh and break the bones --- that have grown to your fixed and tired Soul. Let them break and return to the Universal Just -- as we all must. But don't delay until unable to hold flesh and bone upright, they will become porous and crystallized and fall to darkness instead of Light. Become the ONE whose sails are always unfurled and ready to go, to peek into new adventures of the Spirit that never grows too old. Keep your heart in the Peace of Harmony, unwilling to fall to anxious betrayals that are meant to cut and bleed...obscuring the Higher need to witness the wealth of goodness in Humanity. Neither let your Self become undone as we crisscross drought pained land, flooded by rains, homes and businesses slide away and the wind itself a mighty roar, lashes all in its blind might. Be as you are, where you are -- and don't be afraid to just dangle awhile on a newly minted Star. There's no way to be lost....somewhere there is The Chamber of Justice, whose foundation is not condemnation. Rather like a newly born baby, adjusting to the Light; the contents are worth unimagined intangibles. An old adage: Live today as though you were dying tomorrow, Die to the old and wasteful riddles, Make your own rules -- so long as they do not conflict with the needs and rights of others, you were given a place on this beautiful and rich Earth; and from this Land of Grace, flood the darkness of your fear and flight, with the Goodness and Comfort found nestling within a darkness undiluted by obstacles and pretentions confusing the pure starlight. If what you seek is not already within you, you will not find it in the "out here." ~rumorsofme~ 6月27日 thoughts found along the Way.....thoughts I found along the way... "To die is an awfully big adventure." "All men die, not all men live." "All our tomorrows are strung like pearls around the multitude Suns we are moving around. We wonder and regret, struggle forward, then lie in neglect of the present possibilities forever waiting to be found." "Are we afraid to find what pulls us onward? Fearsome disappointment drives the blade deep. Is it the rejection of the many, or the coarse reflection of the ONE upon whom rests the totality we have been taught to believe Will rescue us from our boring, glib, senseless emptiness? That in truth there is no magic, no miracles and Not nearly enough broken Souls That thread their way everyday, Awakening us to all the muddled questions Of how high we can go, is there any difference below? We come and go and never look inside For the answers frighteningly foretold. And why would a loving parent scare a child With visions of witches and vampires Man made garish metals shine, And we are put to wonder, is it Art, or a hard day's labor soldering beams (that will never be seen)? A simple label scratched on the back of a check, or notepad is Found some long and uncaring Out of time, out of place, out of wondering How we came to be, will Thus always be our Stamped upon, mind numbing faring. Having reached our passing destination, We rise to stone eyes and Botoxed facials ; and find we may yet wonder what lies beneath sensuous lips that never feel The desire to let go all things rational And be swept far and away on a sea Laying in wait for the rebirth Of the continuity of our Faith, Hope and Love. Never relent to the small treacheries of little hours, that only have the power We possess to give them access To our Imagination, the Visions that trip over the stars, The vital element we strive to cut out, or go around That is the spark that needs to be believed. Therein are we, in this moment... Remembering some distant past melody To which we may unfurl the sails, and know the freedom that is only waiting upon us to define... What is our time? Why do we ask others for permission that our Spirit seeks? Make your Way as you must, Just be mindful that the Life you live Will touch memories of you, in distances long ago bent. Frozen out, stirred by winds and animals; And your Grace to walk out. Scary yes, only limb on a tree, where the sweetest fruit abide on a flicker of a limb --- I know the me that lives within and I constantly urge the Self on higher -- Beyond the shelter of the known (even though that known is shredding your Spiritedness apart). Engage another in an act of generosity, an unmeasured tenure of calm, contentment, ever intended to secure the hands older now and a little shaky...still feel and carry that spark of Eternity as it did when we first met. More than anything I wish humankind to Rise above the petty tagged Brands, Flush with multiple houses and cars, Swimming pools, when one is not on the coast of one side or the other. And lighter laughter carries the load Of some day, and soon is gone away To melt with the night swinging a sad song On another crooked, too tightly pressed road. Perhaps we are not capable of being happy? I've searched for many years of a short life. To find some other one I can lay my lost search Upon...but then, how will they know what It is that will shake the Milky Way, leaving cream and chocolate spilling over There's not near enough time for me to instruct. I am relying on the depth of my commitment, the toll of my penance to be paid as we walk outside and breathe in the Sweet air, scented with gardenias and honeysuckle bushes... Why! they've always been there! Where, oh where, was I ? Let the joint burn up the edgy, ugly Dreams of those other lives. Let me linger with my guitar man, Whose lips (when they are not hot on mine) Singing stories of gentle lives who hoped and tried to reveal each one to themselves, The ultimate Nature of us all. Saddened glory waits to write many stories. Can we not just hold onto one another, Smudge the smoke ridden eyes merging with wet eyes? A warming fire begins to lay itself Upon our imagined High; Not quite ready to cash out -- Perhaps there is yet one more dance Across this barn floor; and perhaps when my eyes slowly lift themselves up There will be a stranger all familiar with my little dreamy time songs............maybe... no more than maybe, baby.... ~rumorsofme~ 5月28日 letters, burning, homes and other games
5月25日 "who did this?""What did he do?" my grandson asked. "What did he do that they did this to him?" With genuine concern and bewilderment rising in his voice. I began to wonder just how much longer would I survive my ten year old grandson's acutely sensitized mind and emotions. I looked down at a copy of TIME magazine. It was around Easter. There was a full page picture of Christ on the cross. This young boy's eyes held tight with mine as we moved up in the store line. Somehow grandmas are always expected to have all the answers to life's most puzzling questions...really unanswerable questions. Obviously, I didn't know the way to explain this in five minutes as we exited the market. Yet I did try to give some rational thinking to the roar that such a painting raised. Honestly I felt so inept. At his age, before I got through half-way of this saga, he's going to have lapsed back into some other thought process, so I did the best I could. Later as we went over the map of the world (I'm rather insistent on the youth of these times knowing what and where countries are -- didn't we get Geography in school? I know I did. My God, we are raising a whole generation of illiterate people who cannot think for themselves (because they've got someone else -- or the computer -- to do it for them). There doesn't seem to be any up and coming younger generation full of ambition and an earnest and eager generosity of spirit to make this world a better place. I usually give him a place to find on the map once a week yet am never surprised that he hasn't been moved to find it. So, WE find it. This time I tied in Italy (my beautiful, loving, romantic story tale of a place to dwell) with the crushing picture of Christ on the cross and that this was the place where many bad things had happened -- still do. There's nothing more satisfying than knowing you have raised questions in the mind of a young child who truly wants to know, to do, to be. At least I can say that for me. (probably should have been a teacher--well, you never stop learning in this life (I told him) and you never stop teaching either. The old are here to mentor and inspire the young and the young are here to inspire and be inspiring. We are all alike. Thoughts are things and I tell myself to think WELL of this world -- even for the most hungry, displaced, stony faced of humanity, trapped within the walls of some unknown escape. I tell myself that as long as I am moving, reaching out, yearning for the lives of all human beings (the animal kingdom too) to be uplifted, enhanced and pruned of treacherous thoughts, then I am part of a community of loving, nurturing, devoted followers of a higher way. The poets, artists, philosophers, sculpturers, ministers, music makers have always suffered so because they knew that the world could be ever better than it is. We haven't gotten very far in the (how many?)millions of years that we've been able to trace humanoids existence to. (and now and then are struck speechless with a newly discovered "link" -- maybe the "missing link?" So much work to be done and we (me) are more often than not, late on the trigger to put that zeal into motion (after the youth of our commotion). The lesson ever remains; BE HERE NOW. Accordingly I strive to be. ~rumorsofme~ 2月5日 ...thoughts from another source
1月2日 oceans of mewith living waters breathing, LIFE awakens in mystery. a swirl in the depths i see Beauty is alive with the Imagined free. at once birthed in fire to a LIFE envisioned and infused with DESIRE... ever haunted ceaselessly body and soul become casualties relentless drivers through mist and foam there's no relief from the deep alone. back to the calm and churning sea i drift in aimless uncertainty... searching for the memory of who i was to be. ~rumorsofme~ 8月22日 the golden yeta north wind is blowing something at my soul is knowing steal away this lifeless song it makes the day so achingly long who does this soul belong to? what did it miss? even the body of you not flowers and candy pretty dresses and hairdos men falling looking so dandy cradled body, warmly fed loving hands that put me to bed in the twilight of shadowy mists I touch the hollow night and feel the kiss of loving ones passing on by precious trusts now gone to dust it just all fell away into some dark deceiving old decay we live to try to understand why any of the good ever dies leaving only shells of dens once wandered in soundless countless bells beckon us to the river where we were once and again cleansed to find we had another Then what age was ever in rage was once more our cage and we had to begin one more When. "once upon some time" it's the lullaby game you'll catch on and in no time it'll all be the same. countless are the trails left by human sails the void inside is where I ride the sun rises and the sun sets and no one has found the golden yet. ~rom~ 7月14日 ...too late...too late no denying, I was upset your useless lyings curled into more regret, filling the heavy emptiness dying.
what you have never had is not because you were a sympathy of life's sad -- no, you were fallen by your own untrue
while our breathing expends itself through colors hardly squeezed we search for anything left of something love would conceive
behind brutal endings set to blaze are the torn renderings of softly unspoken ways.
what was cast in this play? what cause could be pleased? by the unmeasured loving of today suddenly colder and mournfully seized.
there is no absolution no regret so great that can bear the breaking confusion when it all becomes ...too late.
~rumorsofme~ 1月10日 what about now?"you're dying," he could speak?
"I mean 'consciously' ", he added gently.
"Not everyone gets this opportunity"
"No....I mean, I don't know. How would I know?" I wondered aloud.
...kind of a waste of time? Wasn't there a better way to go about this. Afterall, this was a lifetime we're talking about here. I could have accomplished so much more. My mind danced like a waterbug -- just all over the place! Just think of what could be learned and used strategically to target those glaring nasty noises that poverty and hunger raise. Why I could have --
"Thinking of what a waste of time your life has been? and he smiled.
My frown deepened and I'd have gotten up and walked away if I could have gotten up. He knew his audience well -- well of course he did. Probably wasn't anything he didn't know. And, what was he doing about it? Just sitting here, relaxed and dissimulating more exciting lifetimes. I wondered why he bothered to --
"It's my task you might say," and he looked at me. "Eventually all the chords get played and who are you to say you could have done it a better way? What would a better way have been? Where in your life would you have chosen differently? Oh, please don't give me the obvious answers to that, especially since we know that it's only the obvious that flags our coffin of 'the untried', the 'undone'. Everybody gets something. Are you really going to sit there and tell me that you know exactly when and where you'd have made your take? Or just what is it that you came in with? What was your gift? You get to satisfy your ego with pointing out to others where they missed the signal or their unknown wealth; and how... You shove it in their bewildered face---how they should have done or what they should now do."
"So give me some direction here. Time is being swallowed up -- it seems now --
"Always been the same amount of time for everybody." came a stern, cold response.
"You seem short on the tag you run on, I said. "Where is the wise, all-knowing, patient seer you've been cast as? Just suddenly on a sabbatical -- my usual luck, huh?" and I pondered the shifting molecules that made up my container. Next time I'm definitely going to be more picky about my container! Forget all that crap about YOU and the being 'INSIDE'that made the difference. I was absolutely going for whatever the time called for, in "beauty, sex appeal, not smart but clever, not praised for what they gave but celebrated for what they took or how they looked" -- if the culture of that time still cared whether or about what color anyone was. Would there actually be a time when HOW one looked and what was "normal" to the human species... still be affecting the lives of millions and millions of people who only knew that they were hungry or had no shelter from the storms. That must take hundreds of thousands -- if not millions -- of years to weed out. Suddenly I felt bone weary, breathing became tight like a new corset.
"Ok, well, I don't feel like playing anymore right now. I'm feeling tired now. It just seems such a waste that I settled for 'hard won" when there wasn't even a contest! How stupid could I be?" Now choices about what to do with my life seemed to offer little comfort and no excitement -- actually there had been lots of choices and the ones I'd made had brought me to this breaking, this breaking down -- this----
"Doesn't your mind have an 'off' button?" he laughed.
"You know I always thought, or was it that I had been taught to believe, you were of great comfort....you seem more like a smart ass! What did anyone get from you?! Precious little it now seems and it's too late to unearth dirty, moldy, disintegrating dreams. They have less and less relevance. Is that part true?"
"Go ahead with your mind button stuck in the on position. Just what is it that was supposed to have occurred during your reign here on Earth? You're intelligent, compassionate and tightly wired together....so, go ahead and tell me, what great enduring Truth are you leaving behind? What answers did you come up with that can or would make any difference to the hungry bellies of little children who swallow pebbles to keep their bellies from hurting empty, or have you provided shelters, worked at some far flung and casually called Medical Care Facilities...how about just plain old human waste...anything pungent come up there? As I recall you were a very material girl. You wanted the things which money would have given to you. You trailed after Beauty until you became her servant, one of the uncounted hand-maidens. You received what you asked for and yet there is no satisfying you. It is never enough. Did you think the bones in you container and the flesh that carried them would carry you beyond the consequences of all Earthly Beings? Anywhere you went, you were subject to the laws thereof...as you are here and now."
"You give me no room do you?" and I turned to the thunderous Oceans, then to the Desert Silence and the confines of the horizon.
"Even the sumptuously laid possibilities seem to offer you no lasting contentment; always the dissatisfaction returns...even when you have been shown how fragile your Being truly is. Still you are looking beyond....stretching your neck to see beyond that horizon. To fill all the buckets you can with another adventure, another escape -- you want to be here, have it your way...but as the ways of Earth do not last, neither does the fulfillment of all your searching and seeking and piling up. Where is it you are trying to get to? Tell me and perhaps, if I can, I will make it possible for you," his eyes were unyielding.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because that is what I do," and his gentleness seemed full of pain, the deep, searing kind that leaves its brand on your soul.
The silence that surrounded us became so heavy and when the sea splashed the yellow and red rocks with my own image, I wanted to scream. How could he love me? Was I not now old? Hadn't my anchored flesh begun the long ago slide toward the ends of all flesh? Pulling me with it? No. That was the problem. I still was because my mind still was. My Beingness was unimpinged by the growing sight of my passage from youth to the age of blight; and therein I found more questions to add to the already as yet unanswered questions of my youth.
"What is there to care about so much...to love, when I neither care nor love myself?" I was asking quietly.
"Because I know you. Before you became enthralled with the delusions of this enticingly repulsive and cleverly made-up surreal experience, YOU WERE ALREADY. And I miss YOU. THAT YOU. You do not even remember me. I have been waiting longer than any insight or grand wisdom your Memory may feed you with."
"But...why?"
"You have become enslaved by the endless chatter of your Mind! Your mind was something given you to help guide you; but only that. You have let your Mind have YOU. Permanence is not something you get to find and keep. It does not exist yet you have come to believe that it is something that can give you a peace, a security of Bliss that cannot be owned. You already understand that you do not own anything -- regardless of the ritual banter of the world you inhabit. What still keeps you wanting then is not something that any one Earthling can give or have as: IT is a Passage. I desired that you know and experience the Beauty and Wonder of this place but you have been put to sleep by it. Now, you must wake-up. For our Journey waits on You. Waits upon You to take its first breath, first step. There is more than this. If you don't wake-up you will miss it; and you will miss US and the JOURNEY we may yet make. This was your hope and then you got lost here."
He was anguish, threaded with impending peril and I was searching a place for something that did not exist there, Our nature was home in Nature. Though I longed to remember that which he spoke of, I could not ; and my despair was all the greater for my not knowing. The wind was my only relief as it spun slivers of music among strangled weeds that tumbled with wildness in bloom and divided the sands with fans of melody -- a release I knew was there...just hanging in the air waiting for someone to care. And he seemed to be saying he cared for me and for what we could be together. What was known was already gone. The rays of days framed nothing but a myriad of delays.
I sat upon the rocks molded in white and studded with coral shells and alabaster bells. I touched the turquoise and silver strands that warmed my hands and sought ernestly to understand, to let the form or what I knew, come now, intangible and true. Come through the wisps of ideas and beliefs I'd come to see as truth when what was so, was so obvious that I didn't know. The citadel of good-bye descended from sooty black and angry green scorched clouds that boiled in my sight, swelling the seas and the sky crossed itself with bolts of stricken lightning, white hot and cracklin. I now stood under the rosy glass pane that had kept me playing this Earth-Made game and I chose this time, to wake from the lyrics I had been part of and let loose the noose of reasoning around my neck. Turning, I saw now, with yearning, the window of my light, kept in focus by the steady and inspired.
Feeling I was the smile escaping his lips, I lifted away my slippers and raised my hem from the wet sand. I stretched my hand to gather priceless joy that, but for us, would live alone and troubled above and in and out of every seam dreamed.
"What about now?" I heard the words from his smile.
"Where?" I asked.
"The cradle of tomorrow waits in the wealth of your eyes."
And thus we began an always that is by night the light of eternal day.
~rumorsofme~ 1月6日 about dyingThere are two kinds of suffering: the suffering that leads to more suffering and the suffering that leads to the end of suffering. If you are not willing to face the second kind of suffering, you will surely continue to experience the first. -Ajahn Chah, "Still Forest Pool" 'DYING GRADUALLY CAN BE PAINFUL FOR ALL"
"We erroneously thought that medical care was the same thing as love."
"We spared no medical extravagance. We tortured him. There was no way to say good-bye."
"End-of-life care that focuses on pain control and patient comfort costs less than half of normal medical interventions for similar patients."
About 6,500 people die in the United States every day; fewer than l,200 die at home, free of pain.
Half of those who die in hospitals endure severe untreated pain.
About 60 percent of dying patients spend l0 days or more on ventilators with no hope of recovery.
Medical care for dying spouses is the fastest-growing cause of improverishment among elderly women.
Only five U.S. medical schools require a course on care of the dying.
More than 70 percent of doctors don't check for end-of-life care instructions.*
WORLD ENOUGH AND TIME ENOUGH FOR A 'GOOD DEATH'
The 85 study participants had no trouble describing a "bad death" --- having inadequately treated pain while receiving aggressive but futile cure-directed therapy.
Patients felt disregarded, family members felt perplexed and concerned about suffering, and providers felt out of control and feared that they were not providing good care.
The study identified six components of a good death, described in The Annals of Internal Medicine of May l6, 2000:
This study says that dying can, and should, be a much less painful experience for many more people and their loved ones than it now is.**
*"Last Rites: Rescuing the End of Life From the Medical System"
**Jane Brody. "North County Times"
12月27日 Who I Am Listening To...Today
12月12日 out-takesWhen I'm swinging from one edge of life to the other , I know I must sound raspy, calloused, hardly here at all; and you're trying to understand and I can't make promises i might not be able to keep...this is what disturbs my sleep..for I think you don't know what you want/or you just want me for a season and what kind of thing of reason am i to hang onto. The aspens light up a mountain side, and the carvers' hands make smooth my skin -- I'm just asking for a little more time to find out about me. I don't know, you see, who lives within this shell (that until the past many months have made clear) was only an empty tear. Barely walking, I wanted to run wildly talking -- me who never speaks except to instruct or reach for what i cannot have. Always the purpose driven throb of pieces of heart beat hiding beneath cardboard in the alley off the street. It's been a long, long while since I stood and admitted good. An unexpected fully charted moon broke the sway in the night sky's back and I'm close to the earth seeking some sign of tracks. Surely they can lead me - just matter of fact -- out of the darkness of this wood stained marsh where life and death meet in match and cringing for the devil's delight I'm made to attract. Whether it will be the Lion, the Tiger or a burning icon old, I'm ready to lay me down and let me go. The man of you comes from long ago -- I see you now wherever I go. The charging center of my fate just keeps the burning back, the afforded costumes having lost favor; I wanted just one to catch FIRE where I could savor the touches, rushes, of your mouth ...just a slight movement caught my sight as I leaned in to catch all its sweetness . The supper is a thanksgiving from this good earth, a joyful time where we may shine...even if we should or shouldn't, I want you...again and again. Why not? I ask you and while I wait my eyes cover themselves so as not to see the sight of my passion leaving me.
~rumorsofme~
10月3日 the lone white sailthe lone white sail
breathing again
afraid of nothing
so ready to begin
lift the anchor
we are present to fly
i hear the wind calling
beyond the witnessing sky
the lone white sail
billows an unrecognizable form
from the safety of death
we are gently torn
the answer in dreams
draws us seduced
in labor we are confused
as all confines are loosed
the lone white sail
declares our Victory won
a tonal quiet
bequeaths new suns spun
ever after we have ...
for too short a season
yet we lean into the wind
without the concern of reason
the lone white sail
defies the powers of sea
while gale set upon gale
sets the course for you and me
the night ripens with the moon
while starlight milks our way
all in good time, none too soon
we feel our dawning day
the lone white sail
pushes off in a virgin gust
nothing to hinder or mistrust
we have our song...we have our story
to tell
may all be well...as
the lone white sail
sails on
carrying the broken
home
where waits for me
all love
and the end
of mystery.
~rumorsofme~
7月5日 The Patriot Act- THE PATRIOT ACT -
Have you bothered to read what the PATRIOT ACT is all about? Or, are you like the other millions of Americans who are rushing past their own lives, listening to the bewildering hate on the morning's drive to work? I know you are leading lives of mass desperation--but, STOP...just a moment and think.
What is a patriot: "A person who loves, supports and defends his/her country." The present administration is fumbling the ball, using a "knee-jerk" reaction that usually they apply to the Democrats. The soil you stand on has already been paid for by the sacrifices of millions of young men -- why is it we are so ready to sacrifice yet another generation? Yes, to defend this country; however, to involve our precious young men and women in the affairs of another country (e.g. Vietnam)...is far more than inappropriate, it's an outrage!! Just visit the hospitals that house the returning veterans of this current debacle. "Patriotism" is love and devotion to one's country. The USA is not the Savior for other countries' internal strifes. We all know the reason we are there in IRAQ in the first place--OIL. Despite this administration's protestations, they would have us believe that the the now-known-about lies regarding our need to protect our shores and personal lives,(the now fabled WMD), necessitates the giving away of the very Ideals this Country was founded upon. When the Truth is that there are other options. We could invest more in the agencies already established (e.g.,CIA); train more people in other languages (rather than just expect the rest of the world to learn our language). How can this country, this planet survive if we don't communicate?
 I believe there are more instances of the abridgement of the freedom of the people by gradual and silent encroachments of those in power than by violent and sudden usurpations.
James Madison (1751-1809)
~~rumorsofme~~ 6月26日 "we"We are as timeless as the
Ideals of Truth and Beauty
Lovers and friends
We cannot leave
Until the melodies end.
It is just you and me
For whatever time may be.
Love intertwined a twin
For the shelter of
the bodies we are in.
Where we touch
There ends our grief
At last surrendered
We retreat to
The absolving loneliness
of our lonely belief.
Joined once more
Our Love is the stuff
of ancient stars
and tearing wars.
We are our welcomed ways
The sunrises and sunsets
of our new days.
Where we were once
And then only some
We are now the whole
of rippling currents,
our water's edge undone
We chart a new voyage
Enter a new legend
Trust new directions
As lovers and friends.
Cut from the past
We are Love's simple joy.
From now until then
We are the found
Lovers and most
Compassionate
Impassioned
Friends.
From carved out
Sun-baked beaches
We are of the highest reaches
A man and a woman
Can know.
Never, ever let me go.
~~rumorsofme~ 5月26日 Who Among Us Has Known
Vincent Van Gogh
"...but there is no reason to lose one's serenity if one realizes that one may have to lead a poor life, even though one has all the qualities, the knowledge, the capacities that make other people rich. I am not indifferent to money, but I do not understand the wolves."
"...but each fit of melancholy brings a little light, a little progress; character develops. Those who seek real simplicity are themselves quite simple, and their view of life is full of good-will and courage, even in hard times."
"...Ought one not to learn patience from nature, learn patience from seeing the corn slowly ripen, seeing things grow? Should one think oneself so absolutely dead as to imagine one will grow no more? Should one deliberately thwart one's own develoopment?"
Taken from DEAR THEO The Autobiography of Vincent Van Gogh Author, Irving Stone
Kahil Gibran
"Whatever the Soul longs for will be attained by Spirit." "Now I realize that the present moment contains all time and within it is all that can be hoped for, done and realized." "I do not know, but I feel that there is a great power in the depth of my heart that wishes to come out, and it is going to come out some day with the help of God." " But I would like to ask you if you wish for this man to remain a stranger whose language no one in the universe speaks. I do not know. But I ask you if you would like to talk to this man in the tongue he speaks, which you can understand better than anyone else. In this world there are many who do not understand the language of my soul. And in this world there are also many who do not understand the language of your soul." "God has made two bodies in one , and separation could be nothing but agony." "The sorrowful spirit finds rest when united with a similar one. They join affectionately, as a stranger is cheered when he sees another stranger in a strange land. Hearts that are united through the medium of sorrow will not be separated by the glory of happiness. Love that is cleansed by tears will remain eternally pure and beautiful."
A Second Treasury of Kahil Gibran and Letters of Kahil Gibran
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