tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781602017408090882024-02-18T18:27:12.990-08:00Abracadabra Tarotfrom the Aramaic phrase avra kehdabra, meaning "I will create as I speak" - related to the word "abraxus", derived from the ancient Greek word for God. Possessing magical or sacred qualities--an incantation, spell, ritual or prayer.
"...the soul has wings as the white ship has sails, and the art of all arts is their unfolding..." A.E. WaiteRudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-8279676554033274892017-08-03T09:26:00.000-07:002017-08-04T00:43:53.216-07:00DIVINERS, DREAMERS & METAMORPHOSIS in "Thin places" - "You're grand pet!" <br />
<span style="color: #fce5cd;">Writing about a trip, a journey, is a lot like the journey itself. You want it to be perfect, full of satisfaction, fun and excitement, sunny, uncrowded beaches, you looking grand in your two piece - lots of tropical drinks with umbrellas in them. You want everyone to have a good time and think you are the life of the party. You want to fall in love and have a summer romance. (That is if you are still young enough to believe that's possible). You spin the Wheel of Fortune and take your chances.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jG5GoTgXgjOKhKcXU1Zgchlt_8kmF5w0MxtIWl83bhlwVP3WAdficKj4SCzBl6usWMZx7RGh8sw4bODvo1n4VwzwUmSN03Fm8z2_jrOupv5BiYaHw9TidFcP_yXynavtB96AWRjfOlHu/s1600/Wheeloffortune.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3jG5GoTgXgjOKhKcXU1Zgchlt_8kmF5w0MxtIWl83bhlwVP3WAdficKj4SCzBl6usWMZx7RGh8sw4bODvo1n4VwzwUmSN03Fm8z2_jrOupv5BiYaHw9TidFcP_yXynavtB96AWRjfOlHu/s320/Wheeloffortune.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wheel of Fortune</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">I once did a voice-over for a product called "The Cocktail
Genie", where I recited the recipes for around 80 mixed drinks. One was called, "Sex on the Beach"! (don't condemn me - we do a lot of things
on our search for enlightenment!) But when you finally get to that beach, the two piece is not covering enough! There's likely sand in
your crotch, a hangover and a broken heart involved in there somewhere. Those kinds of trips are "recipes" for disappointment. Holidays/vacations which usually end up in tears, sunburn, lost luggage and herpes, unless your denial meter is
turned way up high. </span> <br />
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Yes, I still have it - my most successful gig to date - made by Kraftware. A collector's item, sadly n/a, to you, the general public.đą<br />
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But, I wasn't on holiday or vacation, my journey was a pilgrimage back to a place, over twenty years ago, which turned my life upside down and sideways, where I met John O'Donohue, Patrick McCormack, Norin Ni Riain and Ireland for the first time. I had already met David Whyte in other incarnations & venues, including Esalen, and his appearances in San Francisco. The rest, as they say, is history (or herstory or their story?)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirrXULuSHSdWqyIoPyEBz4CzHWnvhubs0XROeQN1k7mAERsuGs6KLsOt4UzeXPgKiQ8L7HzPxitPeojVkLcK74B1AzOpe80loc12MQ_AkHuGdPJaDhQouLiq7WgryDcFbzscEkleGCKejj/s1600/Merryband0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="1191" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirrXULuSHSdWqyIoPyEBz4CzHWnvhubs0XROeQN1k7mAERsuGs6KLsOt4UzeXPgKiQ8L7HzPxitPeojVkLcK74B1AzOpe80loc12MQ_AkHuGdPJaDhQouLiq7WgryDcFbzscEkleGCKejj/s400/Merryband0002.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Merry Band - David Whyte Poetry Tour - June 1996</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6_b4IUFpstq7kZ4qarCtjceRM-j0wQ3zG92Lrijh-rYTdZvUJQJqLXXhacF1NOICmsZ08KGyqd3Wjf4GCBgBjYhxqogjMpJnY3f4WYKIF0DwCtlJBU_bxcYEuRM5jr68smNy85Yhbl8vb/s1600/John+O+waving0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="484" data-original-width="1195" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6_b4IUFpstq7kZ4qarCtjceRM-j0wQ3zG92Lrijh-rYTdZvUJQJqLXXhacF1NOICmsZ08KGyqd3Wjf4GCBgBjYhxqogjMpJnY3f4WYKIF0DwCtlJBU_bxcYEuRM5jr68smNy85Yhbl8vb/s320/John+O+waving0002.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John O'Donohue - David Whyte Poetry Tour - June 1996</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoe-qQdB1L6nKCgls_xw2ByKife55vMfNd13sbRhe2rdEDLPp3iTXcOiueb5vVmWW-sug-h4kbJ9Je7U_UBTNfVykX8LfauSLLymuSBjEaWlrPJZi1MAKk_pr3_hKF5vsET3JM9vnB_fVJ/s1600/David.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="1191" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoe-qQdB1L6nKCgls_xw2ByKife55vMfNd13sbRhe2rdEDLPp3iTXcOiueb5vVmWW-sug-h4kbJ9Je7U_UBTNfVykX8LfauSLLymuSBjEaWlrPJZi1MAKk_pr3_hKF5vsET3JM9vnB_fVJ/s320/David.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holy Places - David Whyte - June 1996</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjf3VzKiCsSDxlkGEPT8iUR0pFoTlRb7mB5xVA8y2Q9joKQIFQcTsmkx4S_o9IzIxoHFMJ1gWq68hg3-BVrVOX_cZu-F_C0-toB-24PyjdP9CngdPoeeblEgopzNwE2gOWHLr6Apjdjyy/s1600/Patrick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="660" data-original-width="1203" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjf3VzKiCsSDxlkGEPT8iUR0pFoTlRb7mB5xVA8y2Q9joKQIFQcTsmkx4S_o9IzIxoHFMJ1gWq68hg3-BVrVOX_cZu-F_C0-toB-24PyjdP9CngdPoeeblEgopzNwE2gOWHLr6Apjdjyy/s320/Patrick.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Whyte, Patrick McCormack, Lei Ching Chou - June 1996</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbP_yglGjYCPv5hOl_Y6bfGhiIFqyzlh4x1PZIX0L5hz1LPCC4oYR4yExwjWxKq_RyQpOkESglF8ykF5USuqGGELojcRJfA94be6gZNgeMXP9lMad9Br_Wqqay8c92_5AKD_QHhyzf_hmB/s1600/David+%2526+Brendan0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="805" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbP_yglGjYCPv5hOl_Y6bfGhiIFqyzlh4x1PZIX0L5hz1LPCC4oYR4yExwjWxKq_RyQpOkESglF8ykF5USuqGGELojcRJfA94be6gZNgeMXP9lMad9Br_Wqqay8c92_5AKD_QHhyzf_hmB/s320/David+%2526+Brendan0002.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David & Brendan Whyte - Yeats Tower - June, 1996</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTZb0QsQ8xoZl8InlUR4UjNHEncPiooelg82zbrLvuiOOBMxpapeGsCGJBZWIDfAq-vs7rbevQFrFLBul3sISFCKHNfevnhf5S_MxCeD_mXFcGqZYfBW-J5W2AJdArwqbUDdfcItwbd29/s1600/RAInishmoher0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="643" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTZb0QsQ8xoZl8InlUR4UjNHEncPiooelg82zbrLvuiOOBMxpapeGsCGJBZWIDfAq-vs7rbevQFrFLBul3sISFCKHNfevnhf5S_MxCeD_mXFcGqZYfBW-J5W2AJdArwqbUDdfcItwbd29/s320/RAInishmoher0002.jpg" width="128" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moi - Inishmor- 1996</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">These photos all taken with one of those throwaway cameras. Imagine what I could have done with digital! So as you can see, the future seeds were already planted among the stones and the peat, wishes tossed into Holy Wells. The search for the Holy Grail, begun in the West of Ireland, with peat, poets, and divinity...smack in the center of the Heart. I thought I would be a writer (and I sort of am). I thought I had found my calling, my "Voice", mais autre choses were in store for me. The cards were in the wings. I hadn't come home to myself...yet (or to France). </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf004mzKaEqmxJhGI6gDYAQyAmGOhi_cS0uGh3bmMAGGy9lVeEf71ler-LoW3r5f2c8qVe9yE5RQLCG1kZ5r7vQJG0Sdf1W38yPpCKwQO-dW7Ho3SZGnihzebQK1A8uYNHHne17c-vV7Mr/s1600/Heart+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="895" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf004mzKaEqmxJhGI6gDYAQyAmGOhi_cS0uGh3bmMAGGy9lVeEf71ler-LoW3r5f2c8qVe9yE5RQLCG1kZ5r7vQJG0Sdf1W38yPpCKwQO-dW7Ho3SZGnihzebQK1A8uYNHHne17c-vV7Mr/s320/Heart+House.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lenormand Revolution - Heart & House - www.carrieparis.com</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">These two cards were damaged in a downpour which soaked thru my pack, kindle, camera, phone, (talk about Tech meltdowns). Rain in Ireland, surprise surprise! How fitting that the heart will suffer in its search for its true home, and that the "House of Belonging" would also take a hit. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">There
is no chronology to this story I am telling you, it is about going out
and coming back...I am borrowing the words below from two priceless treasures on our pilgrimage, <i>Owen & Moley</i> </span><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span class="st"><i>Ă SĂșilleabhĂĄin</i></span>:
(Filleadh: Sacred Songs, is also the name of their album recorded in
Glenstal Abbey, County Limerick, 2013). </span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i>Filleadh means to go out, but also to come back. It implies a retracing of a path already walked, a return.</i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0zvjR0QElS6O8vgJ4I99IF85unpiz6mjcgvUbfZpwSOdhuOWcr_glso4N0IYL1FvYKnETv-0qCWlyyigXznM0214pnfBhNUU40s-omj0HDRh1c5Q5vS4lbRk-qBO1UyPu0cEhBGrL8A4E/s1600/site.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0zvjR0QElS6O8vgJ4I99IF85unpiz6mjcgvUbfZpwSOdhuOWcr_glso4N0IYL1FvYKnETv-0qCWlyyigXznM0214pnfBhNUU40s-omj0HDRh1c5Q5vS4lbRk-qBO1UyPu0cEhBGrL8A4E/s200/site.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Klimacdaugh Monastery - June 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQw6S17Pg5HEl9UdiGuJ-O3Pz5Jk7WJ210oAtnC8zv2PUX2mfml_cLFh5m8S0P7CZNZU3ONJMdlY9HhplZMfi9HNDfhAQhlsdf8B_ZnbTdtGyravrGAfhd3tLFBs0C85djojvtUusyzFEr/s1600/DavidCross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQw6S17Pg5HEl9UdiGuJ-O3Pz5Jk7WJ210oAtnC8zv2PUX2mfml_cLFh5m8S0P7CZNZU3ONJMdlY9HhplZMfi9HNDfhAQhlsdf8B_ZnbTdtGyravrGAfhd3tLFBs0C85djojvtUusyzFEr/s320/DavidCross.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Whyte - June 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbx7N369yW1HzUeKHHT7I9p_CuL-IZ-eHk3FRLmR_pIlHyFpp3SCP8lBp7D1Ff2gz9YkeUVldr0cJ8oX7Sy9JKgcW55gGeNfiXtDIgGWe-Obsrz211BsFQRohyphenhyphenH9s4buH1QdjJFdWbfm2y/s1600/Meeha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbx7N369yW1HzUeKHHT7I9p_CuL-IZ-eHk3FRLmR_pIlHyFpp3SCP8lBp7D1Ff2gz9YkeUVldr0cJ8oX7Sy9JKgcW55gGeNfiXtDIgGWe-Obsrz211BsFQRohyphenhyphenH9s4buH1QdjJFdWbfm2y/s200/Meeha.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeha - June 2017</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Wannabee Mystics, we exist in the<i> In-Between</i> worlds.
Like Kierkegaard said, travel is best understood backward, but must be
experienced forward. There are destinations that rearrange us, and
change us, disorient us - sometimes giving us a <i>pas de retour</i>, a one way ticket, like <i>Into the Wild</i>.* </span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i>They want a wilderness<br />
With a map<br />
<span class="textexposedshow">But how about errors</span><br />
<span class="textexposedshow">that give a new start?</span><br />
<span class="textexposedshow">Or leaves that are</span><br />
<span class="textexposedshow">Edging into the light?</span><br />
<span class="textexposedshow">or the many places</span><br />
</i><span class="textexposedshow"><i>a road can't find?</i> --William Stafford</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">We enter the <i>Thin Places</i>: a term
coined by the ancient pagan Celts. Places like Hy Brasil, a phantom
island, said to lie in the Atlantic Ocean, west of Ireland, appearing on
maps as early as 1325 and into the 1800s. It is the "Home" the
orphaned Border Collie, Voyager, in my Celtic faerie tales, <i>contes de fées,</i> searched for. Poor lad is
still sniffing around for that divine place between Heaven & Earth and will never rest till he finds it. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi05GnuyZystjdMW3jQS9kZaQAmssU44GaGWsL-u3dGwMRRCg7bMo80Wm8s5XMFJsuXX48tLawt_ga7_mL2HMf1cj28cXFlZudGqv0xEo7iit38Uy_UBRdbhQESuQkJDaIBGZvrySQOKqBP/s1600/atthefairyring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi05GnuyZystjdMW3jQS9kZaQAmssU44GaGWsL-u3dGwMRRCg7bMo80Wm8s5XMFJsuXX48tLawt_ga7_mL2HMf1cj28cXFlZudGqv0xEo7iit38Uy_UBRdbhQESuQkJDaIBGZvrySQOKqBP/s400/atthefairyring.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Faerie Ring - Ballyvaughn, Ireland - One of the "Thin" places</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4EdoZLuVU2ZPxzNhKNWLOWL0FfC9rfsbQFdBqFd5tC3znfzlqTzxXepPr3eBcffiI0X0z2_R8oSDNt4D_cae327ZL_7oJV3e9bvSaPpMdrdbODiJK47a_Oz8id2tNZKNnyUUNCpkDXn0G/s1600/DrJeff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4EdoZLuVU2ZPxzNhKNWLOWL0FfC9rfsbQFdBqFd5tC3znfzlqTzxXepPr3eBcffiI0X0z2_R8oSDNt4D_cae327ZL_7oJV3e9bvSaPpMdrdbODiJK47a_Oz8id2tNZKNnyUUNCpkDXn0G/s320/DrJeff.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Jeff in the Fairy Ring - June, 2017</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's good to have a map of poetry and some trusted guides to show you the way.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSKlqfNaKBYwOu7n2zvl6lD0rQjRWNDNAyT6dqo0sESQFgUJ97EL-vzoQZRWly07hwb6HDybM-G35y4kpT54x_MWCdgZ1soKxKgRd1RsvxWVOAJ7b5q_-7ptNcjFImZWrWkVrIiO07qHq7/s1600/Odilon+Redon+Le+char+d%2527Apollon%252C+1906-07+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1103" data-original-width="1357" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSKlqfNaKBYwOu7n2zvl6lD0rQjRWNDNAyT6dqo0sESQFgUJ97EL-vzoQZRWly07hwb6HDybM-G35y4kpT54x_MWCdgZ1soKxKgRd1RsvxWVOAJ7b5q_-7ptNcjFImZWrWkVrIiO07qHq7/s400/Odilon+Redon+Le+char+d%2527Apollon%252C+1906-07+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Odilon Redon - Le Char d'Appolon - 1906-07</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP1F0KJ82rN-9XJSgC7fhIZWUVBZyZcFIUmo9CntscMV1TgCnyUAacD_eWTZ1-jr6baelvdJlaaA-j3qn1mTFVTwnGCm-gt9uGWVCHCCLfqaxronPDvGu7Ti1rAbkT9vLnsSAtvYOZy3B6/s1600/whitehorsescarf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP1F0KJ82rN-9XJSgC7fhIZWUVBZyZcFIUmo9CntscMV1TgCnyUAacD_eWTZ1-jr6baelvdJlaaA-j3qn1mTFVTwnGCm-gt9uGWVCHCCLfqaxronPDvGu7Ti1rAbkT9vLnsSAtvYOZy3B6/s400/whitehorsescarf.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Connemara - June, 2017 </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTr3FlPKjzQhnYKbhzZuKEExjUtCp9bCel1Q8NkoOVf6oY8FUjeZnEezrIldvYsGhY8p9CXvVuOF8eAmIB7NYKXFBVt9_mcyTbSAPlVn8_wHb48M03S_2WzgQyyR7S2DjHFXMK8yK3Ruc/s1600/DWfoal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTr3FlPKjzQhnYKbhzZuKEExjUtCp9bCel1Q8NkoOVf6oY8FUjeZnEezrIldvYsGhY8p9CXvVuOF8eAmIB7NYKXFBVt9_mcyTbSAPlVn8_wHb48M03S_2WzgQyyR7S2DjHFXMK8yK3Ruc/s320/DWfoal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Whyte - Poet, Horse Whisperer - June, 2017</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Horsewoman of Spades</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDn-6oIgpE8wWII5lpS0r-jSIJ7v5kB5DLxGNZFZjOA9AlrsaMgO9u1j5aJxfSR4fLvOoSG1uEyW83_-jgTwKqo1gS4fdgpd54EcGWEz_GIJbjBRjM2r1_MHq8pj8v9inCbhpronzFHIvc/s1600/Horsewoman+of+Spades+from+the+Visconti+tarot+deck+by+Bonifacio+Bembo%252Cc.1450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1153" data-original-width="564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDn-6oIgpE8wWII5lpS0r-jSIJ7v5kB5DLxGNZFZjOA9AlrsaMgO9u1j5aJxfSR4fLvOoSG1uEyW83_-jgTwKqo1gS4fdgpd54EcGWEz_GIJbjBRjM2r1_MHq8pj8v9inCbhpronzFHIvc/s400/Horsewoman+of+Spades+from+the+Visconti+tarot+deck+by+Bonifacio+Bembo%252Cc.1450.jpg" width="195" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Visconti Tarot - Bonaficio Bembo c.1450</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
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<![endif]--><i>The great function of poetry is to give back to us the
situations of our dreams </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Gaston Bachelard</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOgI4kdXek2W8TNSQ-YcpYJ16y4CJZYCmAYzjsNsHNKsRgzBZpqjUVK-T2FHzbQdhspCdWuEWG-G1canQxhuXRLyFXoY6NcNyldEcFhyphenhyphenKUwlbEUAndkD1-f98ukpaoKFYiONFGyMPKFh6B/s1600/doorknocker+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOgI4kdXek2W8TNSQ-YcpYJ16y4CJZYCmAYzjsNsHNKsRgzBZpqjUVK-T2FHzbQdhspCdWuEWG-G1canQxhuXRLyFXoY6NcNyldEcFhyphenhyphenKUwlbEUAndkD1-f98ukpaoKFYiONFGyMPKFh6B/s400/doorknocker+%25282%2529.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Door Knocker - St. Georges St., Dublin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4JXxNhXu2agrfxvpziXZ1igkuoY-KVXTCjwG1o-iKzQ77KNopqy0INIW4qEV3TVySbBwURzajebX9SEyWqh_hPqBDoKX0VZM5GjkSWU8AZMX5ED6I9_raa0EPXsRYrHyat9DOCfaxp_9/s1600/Jamesjoycemuseum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy4JXxNhXu2agrfxvpziXZ1igkuoY-KVXTCjwG1o-iKzQ77KNopqy0INIW4qEV3TVySbBwURzajebX9SEyWqh_hPqBDoKX0VZM5GjkSWU8AZMX5ED6I9_raa0EPXsRYrHyat9DOCfaxp_9/s400/Jamesjoycemuseum.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Joyce Center - Dublin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Joyce Center - Dublin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I haven't got the space to write about Dublin. I only spent two nights there, one at a hostel, with hormonally driven twenty somethings who drank till 6 a.m. in the courtyard. I had 5 roommates in my bunkhouse, two of them men; but, hey, nobody snored, and I do, so fair play! I spent my day in Dublin in the James Joyce Center, a few doors down, and had a fine old time with JJ and his words and artifacts; they even had his door, still intact, where he lived at 7 Eccles. There's a death mask and all sorts of goodies.<br />
<br />
I finally put my struggle with ULYSSES to rest. I tried to finish that book in every decade of my life; it is after all a <i>masterpiece, </i>but it's so much easier sometimes to watch masterpieces on PBS, Masterpiece Theater, where nothing is left to the imagination and the dictionary. And you can relax with Alistair and a nice glass of port. Or listen to it on the radio, when they do the Bloomsday broadcast from the Big Apple, with professional actors, or even in Paris at the Irish Cultural Center where they actually did it in French, and I think I understood it better! And there's always Huston's film of "The Dead." Another masterpiece. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqliyDUqMPeM5iJdnoC_zo3NUh1_1X8DzDob02ptnCw_quhyphenhyphenZVgqw6xn5x-E411OfxHGCdsFB3ytmCek2nkpwMCEF3rzTmMnTcs2sTRrJKSqliAgZl7SQ2K2oa4GbcL9wpw6b-GTRDiL0U/s1600/Hostel3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqliyDUqMPeM5iJdnoC_zo3NUh1_1X8DzDob02ptnCw_quhyphenhyphenZVgqw6xn5x-E411OfxHGCdsFB3ytmCek2nkpwMCEF3rzTmMnTcs2sTRrJKSqliAgZl7SQ2K2oa4GbcL9wpw6b-GTRDiL0U/s320/Hostel3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My bunkhouse without the nice couch & table</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMcV6dEd51sMsmcieN2sru_iAEU_rH6RQjfXqYAOCPitcl5hfEJTQc84-2eq2AZ49JRQPFC8wlb52S7GtxvYt9Gl3yDJl6ibV3RcniEPcoZRwxkPL1F52cj_wjnNzKSdjprtx_daXv0sA/s1600/Hostelwindows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="420" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMcV6dEd51sMsmcieN2sru_iAEU_rH6RQjfXqYAOCPitcl5hfEJTQc84-2eq2AZ49JRQPFC8wlb52S7GtxvYt9Gl3yDJl6ibV3RcniEPcoZRwxkPL1F52cj_wjnNzKSdjprtx_daXv0sA/s320/Hostelwindows.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dirty, but still picturesque, Hostel Window</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Hospitality is Ireland's signature dish and even heaving old Dublin was full of it. On the Dublin city bus to find my hostel, a little old Irish lady passed up her own stop, to take me to where I could scout out the winding way to St. George's St. with its derelict beauty and crumbling Georgian homes. Along the way she warned me about all the pickpockets and thieves and where to hide my valuables.<br />
<br />
Earlier when one old gent got onto the bus, the bus driver said "Mick, how ya keepin'?" (just imagine that coming from the mouth of your own city bus driver). And Mick replied: "Still alive!" And that's the Irish for ya, warmth and forbearance, & a way with words that I'll never be able to copy, can only enjoy and laugh at their brilliant "spirits," fueled by such historical suffering. Good thing they have those faeries in their pockets. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our cottages at Ballyvaughn</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mural, James Joyce Center, Dublin</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
NO PATH</div>
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'There's no path goes all the way'</div>
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Han Shan</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Whyte Poetry Tour June, 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Whyte Poetry Tour - June, 1996</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjct_bHpa5ho25Lu9LlvTHU_FiTHzOiKlcotzjdDAO26Y4vCaOJYAVkyvnsYC7mlZPJ9vzfVoDsRhQFX0GK0JTRp83KJ0CDHxQQcfVGa92_EjH4Pp-fja-rsdt2laBoAPjDkF78UMdIvZcN/s1600/Crossroads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="265" data-original-width="190" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjct_bHpa5ho25Lu9LlvTHU_FiTHzOiKlcotzjdDAO26Y4vCaOJYAVkyvnsYC7mlZPJ9vzfVoDsRhQFX0GK0JTRp83KJ0CDHxQQcfVGa92_EjH4Pp-fja-rsdt2laBoAPjDkF78UMdIvZcN/s320/Crossroads.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Chemin, The Path - Malpertuis Lenormand</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Merry Band - June 2017</td></tr>
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<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">for the full continuation</span></span><span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"></span></span><br />
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<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">The one line in the poem</span></span></div>
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<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">straight to the end. The fixed belief </span></span></span></span></div>
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">
</span></span>we can hold, facing a stranger</span></span></div>
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">
</span></span>
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">that saves us the trouble</span></span></div>
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">
</span></span>
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">of a real conversation.</span></span></div>
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">
</span></span>
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">But one day you are not</span></span></div>
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">
</span></span>
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">just imagining an empty chair</span></span></div>
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</span></span>
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">where your loved one sat.</span></span></div>
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</span></span>
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">You are not just telling a story</span></span></div>
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">
</span></span>
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">here the bridge is down</span></span></div>
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">
</span></span>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">and there's nowhere to cross.</span></span></div>
<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
You are not just trying to pray </div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
to a God you imagined</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
would keep you safe.</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
No, you've come to the place</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
where nothing you've done</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
will impress and nothing you</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
can promise will avert </div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
the silent confrontation,</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
the place where</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
your body already seems to know</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
the way having kept</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
to the last its own secret </div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
reconnaissance.</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
But still there is no path</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
that goes all the way</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
one conversation leads</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
to another</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
one breath to the next</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
until </div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
there's no breath at all</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
just </div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
the inevitable</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
final release</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
of the burden.</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
And then </div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
your life will</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
have to start</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
all over again </div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
for you to know</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
even a little</div>
<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_597e0101baae51572210019">
of who you have been.</div>
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<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show">From RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span class="text_exposed_show"> Many Rivers Press. © David Whyte</span></span></span> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-OyPEj-i4nUowRNz3XvDMJGHFhNa8DxT5d9zSnBrtLXN_UQgmn9HlvFSqFhb79kQcYE24AHkvbFyPQxmkWLJOFBmc3uDZwLoySSwR_NQcuxLjH6Qy5yOX5oWPFYiY3aAurVf-yPSWmXX-/s1600/Davidowenme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-OyPEj-i4nUowRNz3XvDMJGHFhNa8DxT5d9zSnBrtLXN_UQgmn9HlvFSqFhb79kQcYE24AHkvbFyPQxmkWLJOFBmc3uDZwLoySSwR_NQcuxLjH6Qy5yOX5oWPFYiY3aAurVf-yPSWmXX-/s400/Davidowenme.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Embarking on the Path - Owen serenading us - Photo Jean-Pierre</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglB6rUwbOgmIjmYjGQQGU3-1fKMiZK8EFtD7QrCzltdHb_WV-CPgAFEXPCfnCMzZtKVsUfBwrokiDMqtDxnVAU2kIHGhde563zE2EU4snAP0YGT-mbeiwuHo60GvKe1Ws9EN1IWPBHr1G1/s1600/balance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglB6rUwbOgmIjmYjGQQGU3-1fKMiZK8EFtD7QrCzltdHb_WV-CPgAFEXPCfnCMzZtKVsUfBwrokiDMqtDxnVAU2kIHGhde563zE2EU4snAP0YGT-mbeiwuHo60GvKe1Ws9EN1IWPBHr1G1/s320/balance.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Balance - www.alexandraeldridge.com</td></tr>
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</span></span><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Even if the path went all the way, it would still be hard to stay on it. We walked and walked and walked for hours - slipping and sliding on stones, falling into holes - while holding our breath & each others hands, to lift ourselves over the stiles, human chains joining the places where the earth doesn't meet itself. The Irish would say "it's like swimming up a waterfall; or, you can't whistle and chew corn at the same time." But they'd say it in Gaelic and Gaelic is still spoken everywhere. At the Galway bus depot, I overheard no English except myself inquiring for a bathroom. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i>Thin places</i> usually require some blood, sweat and tears to get there. They are often sacred, but not always. You lose your bearings; sense of time is altered, one moment you are standing on solid ground, the next you are crossing a threshold and another territory of spirit opens its arms to you. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8VFaiQ9NJvd0Mc7giBFjK-sWmODU5kwxPtw5KX1KP2UCxaM-zVaofZxQu768FGlVpQq0o_lqMntOlv_c1SX3VRR6wUKbXQ5BPAeD1SBePjSmTbut1eJl2sB283IpSfvTS64IgjjHVXLk2/s1600/faceinstone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8VFaiQ9NJvd0Mc7giBFjK-sWmODU5kwxPtw5KX1KP2UCxaM-zVaofZxQu768FGlVpQq0o_lqMntOlv_c1SX3VRR6wUKbXQ5BPAeD1SBePjSmTbut1eJl2sB283IpSfvTS64IgjjHVXLk2/s320/faceinstone.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Face in the Stone - Photo David Whyte</td></tr>
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<br />
<i>In the daily cycle, for instance, at dawn and dusk, the Celts
perceived that same momentary quality of the âtime that is not a timeâ.
Here too, albeit on a smaller scale, were irregular occurrences and
unusual potential. Spirits could âget throughâ; consciousness was
altered. Morning dew embodied a unique energy with potent healing
properties â hence the benefits of rolling in it, all the more enhanced
at Beltane. At twilight, the imagination is highly receptive and easily
stimulated. And at both these times, the songbirds go along with this
energy, abandon life-supporting activities and sing their finest
choruses. </i>Gerry McGuire Thompson<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRTQ_P-9vl1oI16OllLUQUR0xGfiLRS-oZj1BwLPPlp2cbnWfV5ok8HNaktMtildUiESmEnU2e3qHssDLEM2oyVbsOicPV7jZVRnzPEDINM8mV2KwP1H3dD3Mdv5y1njcSGKGN8SHeXXS1/s1600/Davidwhytebowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="477" data-original-width="569" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRTQ_P-9vl1oI16OllLUQUR0xGfiLRS-oZj1BwLPPlp2cbnWfV5ok8HNaktMtildUiESmEnU2e3qHssDLEM2oyVbsOicPV7jZVRnzPEDINM8mV2KwP1H3dD3Mdv5y1njcSGKGN8SHeXXS1/s320/Davidwhytebowl.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Whyte - The Burren - June 2017</td></tr>
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âItâs the Burren region, which is limestone. Itâs a bare limestone
landscape. And I often think that the forms of the limestone are so
abstract and aesthetic, it is as if they were all laid down by some wild
surrealistic kind of deity. Being a child and com-ing out into that,
it was waiting like a huge wild invitation to extend your imagination.
And itâs right on the edge of the ocean as well, and so thereâs an
ancient conversation between the ocean and the stone going on. I think
that was one of the recognitions of the Celtic imagination: that
landscape wasnât just matter, but that it was actually alive. Landscape
recalls you into a mindful mode of stillness, solitude, and silence,
where you can truly receive time.â - John O'Donohue<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6ppZv_Q_U5xmeOl6cEF-dQITmV-qN_fMC4b0Niiv06QH3FZwlhXCjsZLLfqtuIHKE3VfGMYxVwKIR8wUS0VXCxjaHM2zJ2ElbmfHf3OqXk_26QY2p8-jpQwZA06Nfo1shyphenhyphenIPWg1yZuoK/s1600/JOD0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1190" data-original-width="788" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6ppZv_Q_U5xmeOl6cEF-dQITmV-qN_fMC4b0Niiv06QH3FZwlhXCjsZLLfqtuIHKE3VfGMYxVwKIR8wUS0VXCxjaHM2zJ2ElbmfHf3OqXk_26QY2p8-jpQwZA06Nfo1shyphenhyphenIPWg1yZuoK/s320/JOD0002.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John O'Donohue - The Burren - June 1996</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujZpLizhTlRvaemyRW7xMJECLO12f8qbROb8sSmvJuar_9yl9IhyphenhyphenVei49K5NkLQr-_gDcolvES2WlWRMI3oBg8LtuMdL9SYbRYVOzMdSmb_PKqsjhdlt1DxUvZfQoib3N0HlSfCZzm4gI/s1600/davidfarm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujZpLizhTlRvaemyRW7xMJECLO12f8qbROb8sSmvJuar_9yl9IhyphenhyphenVei49K5NkLQr-_gDcolvES2WlWRMI3oBg8LtuMdL9SYbRYVOzMdSmb_PKqsjhdlt1DxUvZfQoib3N0HlSfCZzm4gI/s320/davidfarm.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Whyte - June 2017</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Thresholds, Blessings, Reverence, and Recognition (to learn and to know) - these were some of the gifts John gave us - And a fresh and exalted way to "see" the Soul's Journey. His legacy is eternal.</div>
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We honored John with our own remembrances, and by walking the land he loved and shed spiritual blood for. His great friends and comrades, David Whyte, Patrick McCormack, keeping his work and memory alive, blending it with their own grand poetry and stewardship of the holy sites, and the souls they share them with.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWy2H0HsCD-gMywWKNK9lszFhG5N-7_YzSR3RogdRsJT2HgP3jGAW2BqMOXoCAvuHESfDKCQyWJ7RbyrUw8WKGe4ov1lA2ftggx1JmtwlomhP0w3exDx7LFgd9sOKKPRLXrvkbicwY6hHL/s1600/Gky+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWy2H0HsCD-gMywWKNK9lszFhG5N-7_YzSR3RogdRsJT2HgP3jGAW2BqMOXoCAvuHESfDKCQyWJ7RbyrUw8WKGe4ov1lA2ftggx1JmtwlomhP0w3exDx7LFgd9sOKKPRLXrvkbicwY6hHL/s320/Gky+%25282%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gayle Karen Young - June, 2017</td></tr>
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<i>I want to be with those who know secret things or alone</i> - Ranier Marie Rilke</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stone Cow - June 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patrick McCormack with Hazelwood - June 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patrick, David, Gayle Karen - June 2017</td></tr>
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They ...<i>wove a spell so exquisite that everything conspires to break it</i>! But dear Emily Dickinson, nothing could, especially when they brought out the Jamesons, an ancient hidden cache.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patrick McCormack - buried treasure</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patrick's Cows - June, 2017</td></tr>
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The Cows were spellbound! But later I saw them drinking Guiness</div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">We think it's the rain that carries the day, but it's the music. We cry like the rain; we cry like a river at holy wells, abbeys and in The Bowl, & whenever Noirin, Moley & Owen sing. I'm still crying while I write this blog, listening to their "Fields of Grace" album, <i>Letting go of Love (siuil A ruin)</i>, same song Moley & Ian sang in Cumbria at the Standing Stones at Castlerigg, Lakes Tour, 2015. I wasn't the only one. Crocodile tears all around. They "Bring Me Beautiful" - Size 2 Shoes. There's actually forums on Google on how to pronounce their last name. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NĂłirĂn NĂ Riain and her glorious sons, Moley & Owen <span class="st"><i>Ă SĂșilleabhĂĄin</i></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<b></b> <br />
<i>I love music. I think music is just it. I love poetry as well, of
course, and I think of beauty in poetry. But music is what language
would love to be if it could. </i>John O'Donohue<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NĂłirĂn NĂ Riain - June 2017- www.theosony.com</td></tr>
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A front row seat for Noirin, who sang on my birthday June 6, 1996 on the David Whyte poetry tour. She beguiled and regaled us then and now with her music & great storytelling gifts. Enchanted us all with her childhood memories of the "little priestess," who gathered the animals around her to tell her secrets to (I could so relate). She called them the "undercover mystics," which they are indeed. She was very shy like me, but let the music overtake her, which in a way, is what my cards have done for me. She has sung with the Dalai Lama and Sinead O'Connor, and lived 18 years at the Glenstal Abbey with the monks and her music - the trials, the tribulations and the joys. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noirin - June 2017 - Photo, Gayle Karen or Jean Pierre?</td></tr>
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"I believe our lives are not our own, we are being led, through the
pain and through the joy," she adds. "I think this really is a valley of
tears â those lines from Hail Holy Queen, 'to thee we send up our
sighs, moaning and weeping in this valley of tears'.<br />
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"People don't like that any more, but I think it's right," she says,
then adds, knowing well how at odds she is with the modern world in
saying it, "None of us is totally unique â it's like that old Irish
saying, 'my story, everybody's story'. These loves that we think are
paramount, these lives, they have been lived before." For many of us,
the idea is unbearable, but Noirin clearly finds strength in it, even
though she adds, with a flash of mischief, "thank God we don't know
what's ahead of us or we'd never get out of the bed". Interview with Emily Hourican, Entertainment Music<br />
<br />
All she says, I believe to be true. And it must be true, she has just been ordained as an Interfaith Minister on July 29, 2017. Now when people give me the gimlet eye, when I talk about the lives we've all lived before, and will be living again (if we don't straighten up), I shall refer them to the Celtic Goddess and Interfaith Minister: Noirin Ni Riain. And she let us try on her Bishop's robe. I hope she doesn't get in trouble now, or defrocked!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noirin in Bishop's robe</td></tr>
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Jean Pierre, Carol and I, clearly Noirin favored us - we are the holier than thou! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pam</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNEhVJ_PjBdNsskJkPBtv5EOOdj-xYyUXjX5syMxHNNV9vcec7f4tYySCsv7jeUcDDiJ1Rsx0tuMdwZpEjzQHdimI3enYt_P9AKrxCyUfz_b6UjyofCsBUvfEM2dfvo8IYArFW343NHsjw/s1600/Bishop%2527s+robe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNEhVJ_PjBdNsskJkPBtv5EOOdj-xYyUXjX5syMxHNNV9vcec7f4tYySCsv7jeUcDDiJ1Rsx0tuMdwZpEjzQHdimI3enYt_P9AKrxCyUfz_b6UjyofCsBUvfEM2dfvo8IYArFW343NHsjw/s320/Bishop%2527s+robe.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ra</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jean Pierre</td></tr>
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Then we went into "The Bowl" - one of the "thinnest places" of them all. Here is where I felt John's presence the most. His own farm and home right over the hill. Whenever the hiking got rough, or I lost my cards, or the flood happened in my backpack, or I felt dumb as a post, I could hear his words ringing in my ear: "You're grand pet!" I'd see his smile that was even wider than the landscape and his laugh that went all the way across the Burren and County Clare, & I just dusted myself off. I told my roomie Mike, the kiwi from New Zealand, and he took it up whenever he saw me flagging or losing steam. There was yards of kindness in this merry band that landed in The Bowl and some special cards for special people, The Tree of Life and the Anchor - doesn't get much better than that. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYfzLvJsftM2yO45sKfy6-0hXyU6czKJUjlfzGTeQ20MfekRKmKjY-kn7QuaGwtukQ3yj7TKNCdDMGHINkR4Pcfm7wlP4q5VSHpE4ju7IYq2pNLUC2ZSzUCkUhgo9IRuDDQQ73iH3Y6j8/s1600/Davidintehbowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYfzLvJsftM2yO45sKfy6-0hXyU6czKJUjlfzGTeQ20MfekRKmKjY-kn7QuaGwtukQ3yj7TKNCdDMGHINkR4Pcfm7wlP4q5VSHpE4ju7IYq2pNLUC2ZSzUCkUhgo9IRuDDQQ73iH3Y6j8/s320/Davidintehbowl.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Whyte in the Bowl - June, 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJfu0uOPpdBDf0sOiuMC0hbdAgvDw415yaaYtpmZRQEBm9z_5Jepo-H9WrRgqt4wakMDf8FwZ_c3HHmvBfV0NBnnqS_efgMEPp6MJkwtaAiceRJ3G8ecTx1-lfXMGyq2ugjzeffleqJuB/s1600/In+the+Bowl+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJfu0uOPpdBDf0sOiuMC0hbdAgvDw415yaaYtpmZRQEBm9z_5Jepo-H9WrRgqt4wakMDf8FwZ_c3HHmvBfV0NBnnqS_efgMEPp6MJkwtaAiceRJ3G8ecTx1-lfXMGyq2ugjzeffleqJuB/s320/In+the+Bowl+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ra in The Bowl - photo Gayle Karen Young</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfaXPH1riBvQxipXE3Idqc57C5OPH5f20jvKN_mbRqv1HCtf-njxgsV6I4EtzBIxdYX8OfsWwjMt625tvNhBNJfeC3WUDbLkwEY-AmpCdLHxjuqYzsy2WrpMhqYvDJwGdaIhQ3RYgMPRsi/s1600/In+the+Bowl+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="583" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfaXPH1riBvQxipXE3Idqc57C5OPH5f20jvKN_mbRqv1HCtf-njxgsV6I4EtzBIxdYX8OfsWwjMt625tvNhBNJfeC3WUDbLkwEY-AmpCdLHxjuqYzsy2WrpMhqYvDJwGdaIhQ3RYgMPRsi/s400/In+the+Bowl+%25283%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Bowl - June, 2017</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk8k4Qlvz6E2jsUkOGM8dWNgDmc6YuFtFNkY5YePVhYAHJaBoFKFdbTfVDu8S_xjlMdCqQou2RQmIKFcLs-Qe1d7DQVK6zZM89v3niEeVTkxu73muo6A7Tm1yD-80d2zr7OH1tM_BTOKGh/s1600/The+Treebowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk8k4Qlvz6E2jsUkOGM8dWNgDmc6YuFtFNkY5YePVhYAHJaBoFKFdbTfVDu8S_xjlMdCqQou2RQmIKFcLs-Qe1d7DQVK6zZM89v3niEeVTkxu73muo6A7Tm1yD-80d2zr7OH1tM_BTOKGh/s200/The+Treebowl.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Bowl - June, 2017</td></tr>
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There were three heavenly Fathers there, John O' Donohue and my father, John, who keeps a close watch on me from the other side, and rose petals from roses grown in the ashes of a friend's father, which I scattered and left behind in this sacred place that held us in silence and grace. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8FBPEObKTOoNf0N-Q0BJZWPihMS8wr6H0PpbJ3pjxDPtojmmW1q_rgyu90bull3zrUDlzTD7N2KtB13_nkQOR1ijsZ2eLLK6li5AJrvX2TwDf5Tb3DkhJT0OPEtysG93X8GSM-tC7V8TQ/s1600/In+the+Bowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8FBPEObKTOoNf0N-Q0BJZWPihMS8wr6H0PpbJ3pjxDPtojmmW1q_rgyu90bull3zrUDlzTD7N2KtB13_nkQOR1ijsZ2eLLK6li5AJrvX2TwDf5Tb3DkhJT0OPEtysG93X8GSM-tC7V8TQ/s320/In+the+Bowl.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A precious poem for me and my father</td></tr>
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<br />
The Bowl is a place betwixt and between - a place where you can leave things behind without losing them.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
THE SECRET OF THERENESS</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For Martin Downey</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And the earth fled to the lowest place.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And the mystery of the breeze,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Arising from nowhere, could be</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A return of unrequited memory</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Awake at last to a sense of loss,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Stirring up the presences in these fields,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Clutches of thistle roll</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
their purple eyes,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Grasses wave in a trembling whisper,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Profusions of leaf dance slowly</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
On the low spires of rowan trees;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In fields and walls the granite ones</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Never waver from stillness, stones</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
who know a life without desire,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Each dwells in its own distance</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
From night acclaimed by twilight</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And day released through dawn.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Utterly focused in their stance</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Stones praise the silence of time. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
John O' Donohue from Connemara Blues </div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Are you getting tired of this blog? I know I am, but we just have a little ways to go before the ink dries. In my official capacity as Voyante, I must give a shout out to all the amazing souls I read the cards for on this trip. Each one special and embedded forever in my memory. I learned as much from them as they learned from me, which is as it should be. I'm not going to post their photos for privacy reasons. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">On this Tour, I read for more men than women, which is a first. There were so many beautiful, conscious men on this journey that I wanted to pack them up in my Tarot case and send them back to all the women I know who can't seem to find any. Maybe there's something special in the water (or the Guiness) that attracts them to the West of Ireland, but I guess we all know that it is David Whyte who draws the souls of both female and male persuasion, seeking deeper and more poetic answers to life's questions. It has been my privilege to witness this on three tours now, so I know it's not a one-off. Gabrielle, my roommate will swear to it - we had two of the grandest men in our cottage. I'm not going to tell you their names, you might try to steal them and who would make our breakfast, do yoga with us and give us leg massages next time!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpfepWEjSymGt5gxFb_OWNOogRyIgVTq-mVekXjv5tDROZrXcCwLlrSN_C_CdM6oUtXIF5XOSJM3ONK41VWz7BeVuF254n_-wGLE62t69kLq6suYAXkZeyOxW7o6o7jdqj7ZerC_qnQY19/s1600/Voyante+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="342" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpfepWEjSymGt5gxFb_OWNOogRyIgVTq-mVekXjv5tDROZrXcCwLlrSN_C_CdM6oUtXIF5XOSJM3ONK41VWz7BeVuF254n_-wGLE62t69kLq6suYAXkZeyOxW7o6o7jdqj7ZerC_qnQY19/s320/Voyante+%25282%2529.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lenormand Revolution - www.carrieparis.com</td></tr>
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<br />
I met Janine on the bus from Dublin to Galway, a half-french and Italian tour guide who lives in Galway. She<b> needed</b> a reading, so we began it on the two and a half hour ride and finished up at the Galway bus station. What a great kick off and Irish initiation of the cards. Janine is coming to visit me in France someday. Her great dilemma ended well. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7zOKcR5xRJufJOPE7Bl5hrDBMJWTM6XH_Ifdhw8onHLRe2ZC8i5LFsFJDdYScFCCToSGJwV7o5fD1kU6CmBr8lEX6DlcXY1JKJe2JHjkyby2GDcovUN3nBrhyphenhyphenVI99UQEIY2TkEBn5qd1v/s1600/Rajanine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7zOKcR5xRJufJOPE7Bl5hrDBMJWTM6XH_Ifdhw8onHLRe2ZC8i5LFsFJDdYScFCCToSGJwV7o5fD1kU6CmBr8lEX6DlcXY1JKJe2JHjkyby2GDcovUN3nBrhyphenhyphenVI99UQEIY2TkEBn5qd1v/s320/Rajanine.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Galway bus depot - June, 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7LiPNSxZJzuzD_KTlM-qsNkGuJNBzRTWQAk0riy5UbysWVhlX1IWLSAAG1VARF2sQ_1_NfOyxoXDObJtmFu7Ox9it8avd0AtlyNMIpKL4jg24CJKxatKKs9K2Ff9QLxWI-5lWxhZSjgU/s1600/Readingforjanine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7LiPNSxZJzuzD_KTlM-qsNkGuJNBzRTWQAk0riy5UbysWVhlX1IWLSAAG1VARF2sQ_1_NfOyxoXDObJtmFu7Ox9it8avd0AtlyNMIpKL4jg24CJKxatKKs9K2Ff9QLxWI-5lWxhZSjgU/s200/Readingforjanine.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janine</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The Diviner</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cut from the green hedge a forked hazel stick<br />
That he held tight by the arms of the V:<br />
Circling the terrain, hunting the pluck<br />
Of water, nervous, but professionally</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Unfussed. The pluck came sharp as a sting.<br />
The rod jerked with precise convulsions.<br />
Spring water suddenly broadcasting<br />
Through a green hazel its secret stations.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The bystanders would ask to have a try.<br />
He handed them the rod without a word.<br />
It lay dead in their grasp till, nonchalantly,<br />
He gripped expectant wrists. The hazel stirred.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Seamus Heaney </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2CXXj-RX7oyX_tQalpGZbp7rFGDC2GGro66Adnv_OpxVUCf5xflHfBDPqr81r6gx5lfxiKB7MrE0wmLWXTWzV_jezGaljXLPUIMro7mGcL3m7Rxi0awUJeqjYn3rhAkW-VDuVG-5O9Z5Z/s1600/Rapraying.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2CXXj-RX7oyX_tQalpGZbp7rFGDC2GGro66Adnv_OpxVUCf5xflHfBDPqr81r6gx5lfxiKB7MrE0wmLWXTWzV_jezGaljXLPUIMro7mGcL3m7Rxi0awUJeqjYn3rhAkW-VDuVG-5O9Z5Z/s320/Rapraying.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me praying I can keep my Hazelwood stick</td></tr>
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<br />
I couldn't have dreamed this trip - my imagination isn't big enough. But maybe my vision<i> is</i> because I envisioned it. Historically many visionaries have been blind or nearsighted. When I was nine years old, I was hit by a car, which I didn't see coming. They didn't test my eyes till I was ten and discovered I was almost legally blind. I operated with "second sight"; perhaps I was given the visions to make up for not being able to see what most people see. It hasn't always been easy, but I am grateful for it now that I found my place in the world. Johnny O' (as I like to call him) told me to be patient, "sometimes it takes a long time to find your place in the world."<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I can see the water, the donkey, my cards & the people I love & that's enough.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5kpaR4xPtew0V1sdcz6JVa0Oojrlber8xy2PPLEZvI39Gvx7bdWMgWPX51vkQdekDBwTNi9Ff6hehiKgoaR_d65sZf7x1tC2gd9SaOoUqiF_sOXO_DhJ289-tuQPmnyObhMHfWWFNsuz6/s1600/withmydonkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5kpaR4xPtew0V1sdcz6JVa0Oojrlber8xy2PPLEZvI39Gvx7bdWMgWPX51vkQdekDBwTNi9Ff6hehiKgoaR_d65sZf7x1tC2gd9SaOoUqiF_sOXO_DhJ289-tuQPmnyObhMHfWWFNsuz6/s320/withmydonkey.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Ballyvaughn Cottages - June, 2017 </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"The Opening of Eyes"</b><br />
<br />
"That day I saw beneath dark clouds<br />
The passing light over the water,<br />
And I heard the voice of the world speak out.<br />
I knew then as I have before,<br />
Life is no passing memory of what has been,<br />
Nor the remaining pages of a great book<br />
Waiting to be read.<br />
<br />
It is the opening of eyes long closed.<br />
It is the vision of far off things,<br />
Seen for the silence they hold.<br />
It is the heart after years of secret conversing<br />
Speaking out loud in the clear air.<br />
<br />
It is Moses in the desert fallen to his knees<br />
Before the lit bush.<br />
It is the man throwing away his shoes<br />
As if to enter heaven and finding himself astonished,<br />
Opened at last,<br />
Fallen in love<br />
With Solid Ground."<br />
<br />
~ David Whyte, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Songs for Coming Home"</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlsZEB1VOYrnk-UrI0aEhmN55FtMDl0y5HMTQQr1dgRY6PeAeIYx1e6QRbaCLYLHcyegsBTMi-TZ2yucXKVQbpJnUztkM2eRE3hY2mQAVWxvwwDkQ1RPm4D9fGgv91tJMPPhcmlfeEEXf/s1600/Stone%2526nautilus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlsZEB1VOYrnk-UrI0aEhmN55FtMDl0y5HMTQQr1dgRY6PeAeIYx1e6QRbaCLYLHcyegsBTMi-TZ2yucXKVQbpJnUztkM2eRE3hY2mQAVWxvwwDkQ1RPm4D9fGgv91tJMPPhcmlfeEEXf/s320/Stone%2526nautilus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Whyte - June 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCs87nG08VeqsutRRcIoAoEc3gDQyXYA7rw5sbCnNYm3xurOMEWyoGAmlEdGRfpQe5mIJi3U21yD_11Be4URFctnZD46RpaWUCujB2_HiLxMz5qCVbhDPrKBTJ4gfjsdIqtcoeeXzaAsVM/s1600/EYE%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCs87nG08VeqsutRRcIoAoEc3gDQyXYA7rw5sbCnNYm3xurOMEWyoGAmlEdGRfpQe5mIJi3U21yD_11Be4URFctnZD46RpaWUCujB2_HiLxMz5qCVbhDPrKBTJ4gfjsdIqtcoeeXzaAsVM/s320/EYE%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">EYE - Painting, Leon Miller Trice</td></tr>
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Paracelsus: <i>The Stars incline, they do not compel</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJbdXdBqAZUjRmULKP9-q_Clp5HG0GgD5uGIcl454e7Xu-g3A8E-vJ4bSkQQu4sdWafSRLcWcI6lJ29mnkUcUgUqALEs86EuYDv14UjwzJnEMMCg75FPkSXD_HyWlif_b3beh7PYb6_Q7/s1600/Cary-Yale+Visconti+Tarot+-+The+Moon-+one+of+the+earliest+tarot+decks%252C+from+Italy%252C+1450s+Tarot+de+Visconti+Sforza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="476" data-original-width="254" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJbdXdBqAZUjRmULKP9-q_Clp5HG0GgD5uGIcl454e7Xu-g3A8E-vJ4bSkQQu4sdWafSRLcWcI6lJ29mnkUcUgUqALEs86EuYDv14UjwzJnEMMCg75FPkSXD_HyWlif_b3beh7PYb6_Q7/s320/Cary-Yale+Visconti+Tarot+-+The+Moon-+one+of+the+earliest+tarot+decks%252C+from+Italy%252C+1450s+Tarot+de+Visconti+Sforza.jpg" width="170" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Moon - Visconti-Sforza - 1450'</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
ARRIVAL</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Waking in the steamy dark </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">heat seems to rise from everywhere</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">in between worlds<br />
the French mosquitoes are <br />
small, but deft<br />
they remind me of how much <br />
work I have left to do in this life.<br />
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All the souls crossing my path,<br />
I see them, their cards, their questions,<br />
I try to reach thru time <br />
to where the divine source pulsates<br />
with its white light,<br />
its presence.<br />
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All becomes feeling rather than</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">seeing,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">the air is thick with it,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">my animal body sees in the dark</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I know you're here: All That
Is,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">you've entered my dream,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">entered me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I can't name anything,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I'm swept into the Stars,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">letting go of all assumptions,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">effort, even belief</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">all the work of "making things
happen"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">a
different stream of being opens up...<br />
and I fly out into the night.<br />
<br />
RA Martin</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzEMrLihFlQ_-LZvbZJJ2h34TNKPAhQ7xMsXdMPi2CSqObLKM4Bm8qUAFsC8zN_KNdiNCU6ux_QcfJLuGIptUXzfzpC3AFDnV5i5qK6sQmaTtwKFGTdhiwWbceW_VmfYRoyQqIywzcT_Y/s1600/kevin_r1_c1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="504" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzEMrLihFlQ_-LZvbZJJ2h34TNKPAhQ7xMsXdMPi2CSqObLKM4Bm8qUAFsC8zN_KNdiNCU6ux_QcfJLuGIptUXzfzpC3AFDnV5i5qK6sQmaTtwKFGTdhiwWbceW_VmfYRoyQqIywzcT_Y/s400/kevin_r1_c1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saint Kevin & the Blackbird - Armedwithvisions.com</td></tr>
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I dedicate this blog to the memory of John O' Donohue, my own father John, my daughter Lisa, who guides me each day, David Large (and his partner Sherry Ruskin, her generosity helped to make this trip possible), and to Lei Ching Chou, my Anam Cara.<br />
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And to David Whyte, who has made it possible for so many to have a glimpse of their own divinity thru the Beauty of poetry and words. <br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Have Cards - Will Travel</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">I'm on the move again with my decks. This time mostly in the Southwest - Taos, Santa Fe, a stint in Marfa, Texas. I will be on the road for awhile. If you are in any of those locales and would like a reading, you can e-mail me at ramartin8@gmail.com. Blessings & Bisous</span><br />
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<br />Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-62343339830583318472017-06-08T15:22:00.000-07:002017-06-19T01:12:56.407-07:00ANNUNCIATION<i><br /></i>
<i>In certain ways, writing is a form of prayer</i> - Denise Levertov<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTJUVEl7eGYSnjwbIuHPxUV7dHdfXk5887M1usu7eBP2U3EVUy4ztYFZBNzJvuQyqOfPJxe43Kge-tNAIYoP2GxGH5BlLkqGMT68ZwOiPBZCAMWOquql-itz0l_A8alAQwC-2qAg7_Yvr/s1600/Annunciation+Street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="960" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTJUVEl7eGYSnjwbIuHPxUV7dHdfXk5887M1usu7eBP2U3EVUy4ztYFZBNzJvuQyqOfPJxe43Kge-tNAIYoP2GxGH5BlLkqGMT68ZwOiPBZCAMWOquql-itz0l_A8alAQwC-2qAg7_Yvr/s320/Annunciation+Street.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Orleans sidewalk - Leon Trice</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvdSBpFEoEkN57kPihjK9H4sRc0MoOylOsknmeeiIOYXKF1-2N9DB4iNAj4reZeyst_vvXiDHii_oia6DLPgFJBrfrJ3nuwt8BxxogqB_3UBoA-XB8GRTISxAAjwumRFhWbdcx08CN5KI/s1600/AlexandraEldridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="314" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjvdSBpFEoEkN57kPihjK9H4sRc0MoOylOsknmeeiIOYXKF1-2N9DB4iNAj4reZeyst_vvXiDHii_oia6DLPgFJBrfrJ3nuwt8BxxogqB_3UBoA-XB8GRTISxAAjwumRFhWbdcx08CN5KI/s400/AlexandraEldridge.jpg" width="130" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">www.alexandraeldridge.com</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
THE STRANGER IN YOU</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Be taught nowâŠ<br />
how the discarded is woven into shelter,<br />
learn the way things hidden and unspoken<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> slowly proclaim their voice in the world.<br /> Find that far inward symmetry<br /> to all outward appearances, apprentice<br /> yourself to yourself, begin to welcome back<br /> all you sent away, <b>be a new annunciation,</b><br /> <b>make yourself a door through which<br /> to be hospitable, even to the stranger in you.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
âŠ</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
From âColemanâs Bedâ in âRiver Flow: <br />
New and Selected Poemsâ<br />
© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9FI6XC5kMBsJeCs9Uu4oPtHMSgWC7Svk9WilP2QJY4VmG-G3_kQ1HaKfcdKZfT5XUfbMVouKhyphenhyphen5-8SE12O2jFBp8wb5BdBwDv9laTNnVegUSOO2pAHFv2oMfYqCwYz7iaz3tW-taNJsa/s1600/St.+Jacobs+Ontario+Canada.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="977" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9FI6XC5kMBsJeCs9Uu4oPtHMSgWC7Svk9WilP2QJY4VmG-G3_kQ1HaKfcdKZfT5XUfbMVouKhyphenhyphen5-8SE12O2jFBp8wb5BdBwDv9laTNnVegUSOO2pAHFv2oMfYqCwYz7iaz3tW-taNJsa/s320/St.+Jacobs+Ontario+Canada.jpg" width="184" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Jacobs, Ontario, Canada</td></tr>
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I always said my prayers when I was little, kneeling by the bed, "Now I lay me down to sleep.." you know the drill. And I'm not sure why or how those prayers were placed inside of me with an Atheist mother and a Catholic father who tried his best, but lost the battle of Church and State (and School).<br />
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When you grow up this way, you spend your life searching for God, or at least I did. But prayers weren't much a part of that search - I leaned into the Buddhist pack, the Bahai's, the Unitarians, the Quakers, the Baptists, the Pentecosts and even the Amish & the Shakers for a while. Every group had something I liked. The Buddhists had the bells & Singing Bowls, the Tibetans, good belly laughs.<br />
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I liked the Bahai Temple in Wilmette, Ill. where Miss Allison, my pretty, high school English teacher, took me, but it was mostly her kindness and interest in me that made it appealing. Along with the idea that there was no Great Kahuna priest or minister; anyone could get up and do their rap, say their piece.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8C6crHp_tnXT355FQcMuqLq4ojKz8hJfko80cyygZ64gLHMlqW3QA-Z_P0XZzeJvpkpD61yXGDwQnL6YUyizwgsJgQT2eMINm2Wgpw-3ky5g6NYUByAJppdgTPqV5w1YUdr4l5OS_DJ9O/s1600/2012.08.14-Bahai-Temple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="640" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8C6crHp_tnXT355FQcMuqLq4ojKz8hJfko80cyygZ64gLHMlqW3QA-Z_P0XZzeJvpkpD61yXGDwQnL6YUyizwgsJgQT2eMINm2Wgpw-3ky5g6NYUByAJppdgTPqV5w1YUdr4l5OS_DJ9O/s320/2012.08.14-Bahai-Temple.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bahai Temple - Wilmette, Ill. - Isn't it pretty?</td></tr>
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The Unitarians were so un-unilateral, just taking in anyone, even a devil worshiper could get into the Unitarians, and they had those free little books full of inspiration and catch phrases to live by in case you couldn't think of your own. Like the one below, which is really quite lovely. Maybe I should have stuck with them? <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkex5lA2GkSk4V60nkgTRoO1x-B5AWXrnmPgKiza0-0Bbui5_sdKIsmamB1t2hni8f4wIqbHCyO0N2aQuGjyuGnIKh1nsBvCBL5w6pxvn19qRoinRaSY9Lx2CMevsiBqN02YOnwgmMW1v/s1600/flame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="561" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkex5lA2GkSk4V60nkgTRoO1x-B5AWXrnmPgKiza0-0Bbui5_sdKIsmamB1t2hni8f4wIqbHCyO0N2aQuGjyuGnIKh1nsBvCBL5w6pxvn19qRoinRaSY9Lx2CMevsiBqN02YOnwgmMW1v/s320/flame.jpg" width="272" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Famous Unitarian Quote</td></tr>
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I think I was looking for a value system, since one wasn't handed to me, which was probably a good thing, but it took a lot longer, and I had to sit in some very uncomfortable chairs to finally meet my own God. Maybe the "Friends" were the best, the way they just sat together, even though the chairs were hard work. Most human animals are not comfortable with silence.<br />
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The Baptists, the Black churches, had the best music and the most energy, and the way those ladies dressed up in their pumps and Sunday go to meetin' hats was really special. I felt the holy spirit moving around and thru them. Who doesn't love Gospel? Smite them down, my Lord!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEp4KJiHcakmfFNXjlwFBoz_wLMPVIy7eSKIWXEELxTwmv8qPuyq679eWafS6ePdS_aL09Nr6B4SyjRk8J7EEdFW3wyHjF8KUWXwvwmaSRF9y5NZmSI70Z3GfORUoR9GjFrN2AyW1SY845/s1600/choir_members.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="600" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEp4KJiHcakmfFNXjlwFBoz_wLMPVIy7eSKIWXEELxTwmv8qPuyq679eWafS6ePdS_aL09Nr6B4SyjRk8J7EEdFW3wyHjF8KUWXwvwmaSRF9y5NZmSI70Z3GfORUoR9GjFrN2AyW1SY845/s320/choir_members.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How Sweet the Sound</td></tr>
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And the Pentecosts in West Virginia - I went there strictly for the snake handling! <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ehPVPWXEuD95jjERCAlE8HSwq7GzZrbjogf5bv5ArgD5nVWTyh9bcY3LW0ZpljW4jXwTzwU3ZvQIELGQPIy9O2QFYlDdr1Igs2GP9dKFn8UPA_m6Azdp_LGbsfAAQr_52m8Ezjy647S0/s1600/Pentecostal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="678" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ehPVPWXEuD95jjERCAlE8HSwq7GzZrbjogf5bv5ArgD5nVWTyh9bcY3LW0ZpljW4jXwTzwU3ZvQIELGQPIy9O2QFYlDdr1Igs2GP9dKFn8UPA_m6Azdp_LGbsfAAQr_52m8Ezjy647S0/s320/Pentecostal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pentecostal Church of God - Faith Healing</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICYs9OFnRGu6G1AOvlbCIOpP0m1M0E9kfkk5bujwpDmsI7wMWsfzcdz6GuH3tb238hNkxjKr1oNzHTQcIvUgAgz2Mc-7_fR7xP1B4eGElMxvwwbP7ddMhZ5FU4S8caSDrF2EqfBvVkDCW/s1600/Dolly+Pond+Church+of+God.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="662" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICYs9OFnRGu6G1AOvlbCIOpP0m1M0E9kfkk5bujwpDmsI7wMWsfzcdz6GuH3tb238hNkxjKr1oNzHTQcIvUgAgz2Mc-7_fR7xP1B4eGElMxvwwbP7ddMhZ5FU4S8caSDrF2EqfBvVkDCW/s320/Dolly+Pond+Church+of+God.jpg" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Dolly Pond Church of God With Signs Following</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #fce5cd;">I like what John O' Donohue said about Prayer: It is the Act of Presence - the Sister of Wonder. And that's probably why I liked the Pentecosts so much. Talk about an Act of Presence and Wonder! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #fce5cd;">When all is said and done, I realize I'm more of a watcher than a joiner. Luckily the New Age & Metaphysics rolled in, just as I rolled out of the Midwest, the East Coast, and into California dreamin' - Mamas & Pappas here I come! Lots more to watch, though I had to join a sort of commune. All that search for "religion" fell by the wayside, as I embraced what I knew to be the "Real Truth" - The Web of Life, Fritjof Capra, that Zany Timothy Leary: <i>You're only as young as the last time you changed your mind.</i> Those encounter groups, EST. But still & yet, something wasn't quite right! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #fce5cd;">I'll cut to the chase. I found my God in Poetry, in the Mystics, Rumi and Kabir, in Artists like William Blake, and writers/scientists like C.S. Lewis: Into the Region of Awe. The list goes on and on and everyone has their own. There's a Mystics and Scientists Conference that has been going on for 40 years, since 1978. Fritjof is still there and so is Merlin Sheldrake (who is of course, the son of the great Rupert Sheldrake). Merlin is known for eavesdropping on the underground conversations of trees in London's Epping Forest; he has no choice with his name. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #fce5cd;">I still go to the Zen Centers, the great Cathedrals, like Notre Dame and the small village churches where the doors are left open most days so I can pop in and cool off in the shade of the altar. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jZyzs46zUAHJxmrt1NLR_J_E_v7nY_7r5eXQTRsD6sxj48uWEHadQhjQhULIYf5QHz2UY_PbfRGTHB-BoPGexGcnLOxOolZYgNTg29GpT7JPKMcvqpuoa-pxHtdMZYjqcewKtc4qAI8K/s1600/Frescoes+EgliseNotreDame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jZyzs46zUAHJxmrt1NLR_J_E_v7nY_7r5eXQTRsD6sxj48uWEHadQhjQhULIYf5QHz2UY_PbfRGTHB-BoPGexGcnLOxOolZYgNTg29GpT7JPKMcvqpuoa-pxHtdMZYjqcewKtc4qAI8K/s400/Frescoes+EgliseNotreDame.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eglise Notre-Dame - Le gardes-pontaroux</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9UGzZ1Ot0QJU-HeEa1LqFiWYC5KQL61T-D6vBkZ7_tPYZ09mhrRDiNZJvtxj7fG4vSqvbq93GMsSZT7q1RbpB2AfgsJpjcuGVPm39vpbywbm2ocPGzpGnXW83CyW33pFv3tpvqY7-lysG/s1600/Fresco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9UGzZ1Ot0QJU-HeEa1LqFiWYC5KQL61T-D6vBkZ7_tPYZ09mhrRDiNZJvtxj7fG4vSqvbq93GMsSZT7q1RbpB2AfgsJpjcuGVPm39vpbywbm2ocPGzpGnXW83CyW33pFv3tpvqY7-lysG/s320/Fresco.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frescoe</td></tr>
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But mostly I find God these days in the landscape which surrounds me in France.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPNDQzA6SwsKhtsyLhgN9xhHJnL6KRcd47ADIECR-tU7UVIlnIs9LwuJQ6gvx35_2k1ye9PEAjoIUY-Z3ccdic1J8hDMYg9TLciNLWxjWAPt9mLY_at3y8kE-BrHymmPKbilNgyH0rc70/s1600/Just+one+Poppy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="262" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPNDQzA6SwsKhtsyLhgN9xhHJnL6KRcd47ADIECR-tU7UVIlnIs9LwuJQ6gvx35_2k1ye9PEAjoIUY-Z3ccdic1J8hDMYg9TLciNLWxjWAPt9mLY_at3y8kE-BrHymmPKbilNgyH0rc70/s320/Just+one+Poppy.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grassac</td></tr>
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Nothing more holy than a single poppy in a field...</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj088qtPk8R8hYG_RON3sN3ZWJxbynY7vXGgUHvgf2rAjYdSlIeImeZ0bUPsckm6UCNk6ZGA2QHxDtSfX1G4WP_JmFN0JxdPQZnNxTrBBKUCpywTkxPoAnPkYJ3zZOSd5U_DDno6-s5naCI/s1600/poppy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj088qtPk8R8hYG_RON3sN3ZWJxbynY7vXGgUHvgf2rAjYdSlIeImeZ0bUPsckm6UCNk6ZGA2QHxDtSfX1G4WP_JmFN0JxdPQZnNxTrBBKUCpywTkxPoAnPkYJ3zZOSd5U_DDno6-s5naCI/s320/poppy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near Villebois</td></tr>
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or a Frog or a Beetle</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC30HrE5kwPmQQwizbL75ughrpxDOtVdIKgDF4JR-ZCzEYti1pqpRBptsshk0q5fz2ZdSKyWx6nDHxdNS8iRCJAFAqfGa_wyZfIHjfJGE6UfTwhji1oeGK9lv58KoQq7IaSilSZbHKClFC/s1600/gold+beetle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC30HrE5kwPmQQwizbL75ughrpxDOtVdIKgDF4JR-ZCzEYti1pqpRBptsshk0q5fz2ZdSKyWx6nDHxdNS8iRCJAFAqfGa_wyZfIHjfJGE6UfTwhji1oeGK9lv58KoQq7IaSilSZbHKClFC/s200/gold+beetle.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gold Beetle - Charras</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouIyu-yt50V8OVkIl4kPkSQ636sa9qaM6NwRaMCF41hPJbUo3RwFifLidY7LQWfhkTlNYQ3KXbvdJ-99dToNfPF-m2K6S2qj2t2MOSGNb7nIHrQS7AXz6P2ligSY7qtev0ux9T5Y8V3BN/s1600/Frog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouIyu-yt50V8OVkIl4kPkSQ636sa9qaM6NwRaMCF41hPJbUo3RwFifLidY7LQWfhkTlNYQ3KXbvdJ-99dToNfPF-m2K6S2qj2t2MOSGNb7nIHrQS7AXz6P2ligSY7qtev0ux9T5Y8V3BN/s200/Frog.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hameau de la Brousse - Zou</td></tr>
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There's a Japanese proverb that says: Even an insect 1/10th of an inch long has 5/10th of a Soul. <br />
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And something is always giving birth to something else, whether it's a baby lamb or a Word.doc. or the birth of an emotion.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERPI0Y11LIa-Astv-LerhQpKaoEa5aYt5Z3cgsn_VIRGXQKifPTq9MYHqvZ11ftCs14cWUk-S4fsFAjjO2_ZSxbetz6z0gcGNut34faFVGDdY_uN77A7_w6FsZE7d7-Cvx2gPJc4hfHng/s1600/babysheep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERPI0Y11LIa-Astv-LerhQpKaoEa5aYt5Z3cgsn_VIRGXQKifPTq9MYHqvZ11ftCs14cWUk-S4fsFAjjO2_ZSxbetz6z0gcGNut34faFVGDdY_uN77A7_w6FsZE7d7-Cvx2gPJc4hfHng/s320/babysheep.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmzASTp1MS0N2R1DNTq7AEUht12GqxW1VE_YbyQ3G4IyvfXGdcGV0S5ceU9tjBfe6R1RzfLhb9dIxeVQhGTsAPYmYSI2AAmuuixfRP5UfnPJX608-cJ9aDjQ5VZd8lI-WceSQekUDGgiJ/s1600/Newborn+lamb+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmzASTp1MS0N2R1DNTq7AEUht12GqxW1VE_YbyQ3G4IyvfXGdcGV0S5ceU9tjBfe6R1RzfLhb9dIxeVQhGTsAPYmYSI2AAmuuixfRP5UfnPJX608-cJ9aDjQ5VZd8lI-WceSQekUDGgiJ/s320/Newborn+lamb+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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And where there's birth, there's beauty inherent, the struggle to be born - to breathe, <i>the divine breath </i>of creation. John Keats would have said: "yes, in spite of it all / Some shape of beauty moves away the pall / from our dark spirits." Because beauty is the promise of happiness.. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCsacl6YebYTLMtUR-gxpyMPEPvqtVxQHkOXGxIFs2mstpuF1D7CGhDaSu6iJ_2pYvkKziXMSbSA6PAymMOXkG3Urzi52Qn4NdNkhCT9vuf9Hh6YZgmWOxuhnF_PvbL0tO35BnkCGsEeN/s1600/CowsMarval.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCsacl6YebYTLMtUR-gxpyMPEPvqtVxQHkOXGxIFs2mstpuF1D7CGhDaSu6iJ_2pYvkKziXMSbSA6PAymMOXkG3Urzi52Qn4NdNkhCT9vuf9Hh6YZgmWOxuhnF_PvbL0tO35BnkCGsEeN/s320/CowsMarval.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cows in Marval</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQQC2a_vp-t4XJvwk5Nz-RFnaTRK28sFZ1S-z3p79isXZ7Nx4OD2CJJUswCa6Y3-qFQRIGa08i7YaWQBcFhFfdDFx_z586AKaGW7MbM6QEUKCwwLzt9S0-_sDTzUn_tnakhZVrN8HxvWT/s1600/Epona.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQQC2a_vp-t4XJvwk5Nz-RFnaTRK28sFZ1S-z3p79isXZ7Nx4OD2CJJUswCa6Y3-qFQRIGa08i7YaWQBcFhFfdDFx_z586AKaGW7MbM6QEUKCwwLzt9S0-_sDTzUn_tnakhZVrN8HxvWT/s320/Epona.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Epona - somewhere between Marthon & Feuillade</td></tr>
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<i>Things hidden and unspoken slowly proclaim their voice in the world</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYydaQv1GRlHOXeoW8Hlpwqc_i09f3kvBiu3BSRMfwbZwpCyZv-8IACBAJOddv5tw78bVmUW5gpaBvsd4ZdoMou2lkeZ072gEGKolC8TeNrXGk7RSq5vJRopGxJv785r9Sy6oF6P-U1U4-/s1600/A+Bee+and+a+Field+Fly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="649" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYydaQv1GRlHOXeoW8Hlpwqc_i09f3kvBiu3BSRMfwbZwpCyZv-8IACBAJOddv5tw78bVmUW5gpaBvsd4ZdoMou2lkeZ072gEGKolC8TeNrXGk7RSq5vJRopGxJv785r9Sy6oF6P-U1U4-/s400/A+Bee+and+a+Field+Fly.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Bee & a Field Fly - Haley Mellin painting</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZPjSIMFPCtjrihvhqadwLqdFfKmeb2sYfhiy-hDTerTJHp_Ivrk75m9vAgbG6-25WcMM0sOVn_bTyXiUAYj4ncQx80JBnE5LnaD6Ozh1ztjOGTt_havI_ug0NOchzmWXtKqXMCRG0_R1x/s1600/butterfly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZPjSIMFPCtjrihvhqadwLqdFfKmeb2sYfhiy-hDTerTJHp_Ivrk75m9vAgbG6-25WcMM0sOVn_bTyXiUAYj4ncQx80JBnE5LnaD6Ozh1ztjOGTt_havI_ug0NOchzmWXtKqXMCRG0_R1x/s200/butterfly.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0umCqRxMXkgQ3uvx2apA-I8GTInZSsz9o2LmmWBMujQGMWDmNnmY5gUQHNiz13aFm3MD4QqUtfXsQMNUJW9mkX3jnSQ1RNxr0NILaEhAw84-jBa2SbDgUkAwygN6fttxAJgHThTGU2oR/s1600/butterfly2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0umCqRxMXkgQ3uvx2apA-I8GTInZSsz9o2LmmWBMujQGMWDmNnmY5gUQHNiz13aFm3MD4QqUtfXsQMNUJW9mkX3jnSQ1RNxr0NILaEhAw84-jBa2SbDgUkAwygN6fttxAJgHThTGU2oR/s320/butterfly2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Butterflies - Charras</td></tr>
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You can find the country in the city too. Sometimes beauty is more often at the edges and you have to squint a little harder to see it. <i> The search for the center of artistic pleasures, and also for the essence of strong aesthetic emotion, is fascinating, 'although,' as Adam Zagajewski writes, "surely deep in our hearts we all dream of never finding this mysterious something so that we can remain in uncertainty."</i><br />
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<i>Because rationalizing a piece of art could be the end of all the fun, a drastic impoverishment of a work 'in which the blood of mystery circulates, as the ends of its vessels flow into the surrounding night, to return from there filled with dark fluid...we want the magic of the mystery, the capacity to be 'in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason." </i>from Kore: On Sickness, the Sick and the Search for the Soul - Andrzej Szczeklik<i> </i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-QhQaj6I9M47ZG5v2oLtnI-M5Fr4Xamzudkn_e1PHhSqn9amx0jag8iXyXmx8wBb7wY4BAAD006uTo17YUh-0C2C4o0zgyk5pB85cV7DhdOWYf9ga4wk7aNs5rtbQQV0tTIGRwz-7MiV/s1600/RaBordeaux.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT-QhQaj6I9M47ZG5v2oLtnI-M5Fr4Xamzudkn_e1PHhSqn9amx0jag8iXyXmx8wBb7wY4BAAD006uTo17YUh-0C2C4o0zgyk5pB85cV7DhdOWYf9ga4wk7aNs5rtbQQV0tTIGRwz-7MiV/s320/RaBordeaux.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bordeaux, Rue St Catherine - May, 2017 </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfWvbk6vmPM-5ZQr2X4XCExqhJ8YT3NSFkOvz_d-VEp1mr0H-LsjtK5knZgmngFuQi_OpD_XPldPQNV8EFWE7hPejar9Bp9mNKygaUVo5g85WBckf6cMvVjIHaZ02okMs0EYRF-mjPS1HY/s1600/Treeoflifeman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfWvbk6vmPM-5ZQr2X4XCExqhJ8YT3NSFkOvz_d-VEp1mr0H-LsjtK5knZgmngFuQi_OpD_XPldPQNV8EFWE7hPejar9Bp9mNKygaUVo5g85WBckf6cMvVjIHaZ02okMs0EYRF-mjPS1HY/s320/Treeoflifeman.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street Artist, Bordeaux - May, 2017</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i>Friday I tasted life. It was a vast march. A circus passed the house - still I feel the red in my mind, though the drums are out. The lawn is full of south and the odors tangle, and I hear today for the first time the river in the Tree </i>- Emily Dickinson<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaC_XzOTYKe8JZuqfeWt7ZQtBPNkY6VDKDy__MH3gaODK9ih2IEvNWEUL2raWFaGisF8ZKG2rtfsblAzSGLEthbLWs2zafOTO0k0Cf5cvqXcNqa90cVYsGTzcPqyVpRqrK-EPVGQV91fl/s1600/girlbreaker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaC_XzOTYKe8JZuqfeWt7ZQtBPNkY6VDKDy__MH3gaODK9ih2IEvNWEUL2raWFaGisF8ZKG2rtfsblAzSGLEthbLWs2zafOTO0k0Cf5cvqXcNqa90cVYsGTzcPqyVpRqrK-EPVGQV91fl/s200/girlbreaker.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breaker Girl</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWHv9yXWCHKuzd-uHBPO_lZdNsHYZM19jN85PqVArL7wag8HsQMMcL4gSzPxa8L-7c1wsuGs_I4-QGz3_U40sSVl28wnoPKPj0r-MZB_gpnJJg_920SmHxdcQ1G4ejlnf7s4ZndA0B2eg/s1600/Breakdancer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWHv9yXWCHKuzd-uHBPO_lZdNsHYZM19jN85PqVArL7wag8HsQMMcL4gSzPxa8L-7c1wsuGs_I4-QGz3_U40sSVl28wnoPKPj0r-MZB_gpnJJg_920SmHxdcQ1G4ejlnf7s4ZndA0B2eg/s320/Breakdancer.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Break dancers - Marche des Douves</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGepMyT-m2HKnfFrwjqHYL8_RgDqZwGxsqa3PBCaOagWHMimQJeEmWgkcyIWw0l_kRVpXAJBQzab9nnv_j9q_lMEbanDrBD-7zoxJ3fAb8cVEKjle5O_JhgAHc2vTI5InGV6TXBbaKVxc/s1600/Le+Miroir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGepMyT-m2HKnfFrwjqHYL8_RgDqZwGxsqa3PBCaOagWHMimQJeEmWgkcyIWw0l_kRVpXAJBQzab9nnv_j9q_lMEbanDrBD-7zoxJ3fAb8cVEKjle5O_JhgAHc2vTI5InGV6TXBbaKVxc/s400/Le+Miroir.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Miroir, Bordeaux, May 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDU0fAuSKB-MrHxXuacM9EKJua4keD6lXsDj7C0xxt_Ih5aVgg5h4w_B9WyBbW5C75b84jDnYeSRgopuS1mAJAPTHnJfJ4IMh3znHPf4__2XYRhzOXgSbiMxU86gDf2ogpVO8dtFVMWss/s1600/flute+player.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDU0fAuSKB-MrHxXuacM9EKJua4keD6lXsDj7C0xxt_Ih5aVgg5h4w_B9WyBbW5C75b84jDnYeSRgopuS1mAJAPTHnJfJ4IMh3znHPf4__2XYRhzOXgSbiMxU86gDf2ogpVO8dtFVMWss/s320/flute+player.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Street Musician - Bordeaux</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYS8O-G0v8MiNh3FdIhVUxmrG8mWmnYrgfaHWZG9mqH6pE7E8HlWwZTXfDk4ND7gOA9Cwjm9ZqHkZUK5gHf8GsuU1o99_myl0CSrbg2Qrfv0VJMD1KT7teKu0LhlNNLH9qtdD06kL0Po0J/s1600/Magrittesky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYS8O-G0v8MiNh3FdIhVUxmrG8mWmnYrgfaHWZG9mqH6pE7E8HlWwZTXfDk4ND7gOA9Cwjm9ZqHkZUK5gHf8GsuU1o99_myl0CSrbg2Qrfv0VJMD1KT7teKu0LhlNNLH9qtdD06kL0Po0J/s400/Magrittesky.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bordeaux - May, 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCVPU_BiQNVNjImNSYmAtjL7wd52-5cpS4djQEhgIOkWTz3zIQcV4ThAEALf1X88EvbUoDz5ILYhTr4xi0fo-PjBxAdhnVu3Q_dyswRGQz617LgnGmkW0U0INoGs5z_KERjFr-Bx5-2s04/s1600/Cherub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCVPU_BiQNVNjImNSYmAtjL7wd52-5cpS4djQEhgIOkWTz3zIQcV4ThAEALf1X88EvbUoDz5ILYhTr4xi0fo-PjBxAdhnVu3Q_dyswRGQz617LgnGmkW0U0INoGs5z_KERjFr-Bx5-2s04/s320/Cherub.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cherub Fountain, Bordeaux, May 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hZb3rhQS3aaQk-w1zG2SFfWDI7fsUMMHQs-mgnG0pNF5xIRFE1CY_CABEuzJBjiWWX4az4j41xWXerFaKBkDClumwBPq0hB2vOkB7Wwj8Gs1ctMji7ml9MGX6yBqVHBRF_GG6e3AZOSP/s1600/Magrittesky2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-hZb3rhQS3aaQk-w1zG2SFfWDI7fsUMMHQs-mgnG0pNF5xIRFE1CY_CABEuzJBjiWWX4az4j41xWXerFaKBkDClumwBPq0hB2vOkB7Wwj8Gs1ctMji7ml9MGX6yBqVHBRF_GG6e3AZOSP/s400/Magrittesky2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magritte Sky - Bordeaux</td></tr>
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Same sky covering us no matter where we are. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUptVAwSNwCeUtHQHW0CAzsdeWe8Uk7gu2x1wk4kvO_J0f6IYEdbPxVxxeLeW_y3vAJ6Om2YvK0dcs_Ky3onGm5Lbb9DB48SM-MqrJEWs7NQTDDnB1T18_guRZIkAM51i8gATdO7f6YsNo/s1600/Montaigne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUptVAwSNwCeUtHQHW0CAzsdeWe8Uk7gu2x1wk4kvO_J0f6IYEdbPxVxxeLeW_y3vAJ6Om2YvK0dcs_Ky3onGm5Lbb9DB48SM-MqrJEWs7NQTDDnB1T18_guRZIkAM51i8gATdO7f6YsNo/s320/Montaigne.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michel de Montaigne - Bordeaux </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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One of the first things I do when I get to Bordeaux is to visit
Montaigne, the immortal essayist and former mayor of Bordeaux. I like
looking at him thru the trees, all the leafy green around his great
head. It is his words that have guided me thru many a tough time: <br />
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<i>The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself </i>- Michel de Montaigne<br />
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If he were here today looking around the state of affairs, he'd probably tell us to make some lemonade out of these lemons...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1F3drFrQcx2ILQ2gwsLLz6ib9Hj1hZTMEgaDhHQ6Ngz59TIO5YCDbxvi3sGHQcCxLmM-TM1yaGBpuGMKE62GDdHCW_PPydNW3CzX7FclPvoY3F4H2bYG_oN1txiXr0AhcklXAwbX4oiEb/s1600/Lemons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1F3drFrQcx2ILQ2gwsLLz6ib9Hj1hZTMEgaDhHQ6Ngz59TIO5YCDbxvi3sGHQcCxLmM-TM1yaGBpuGMKE62GDdHCW_PPydNW3CzX7FclPvoY3F4H2bYG_oN1txiXr0AhcklXAwbX4oiEb/s320/Lemons.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td class="tr-caption">Bordeaux - May, 2017</td></tr>
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And be grateful for everything we have created so far. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGdA7QlSaIJ-egH_c2bTioBEQCOhLlK4XKMLBFjB2zqYbVKt8q20cSD9BQfPho26plyutWhOYUckyLFPIuzks0rvJLMGEd7N85anY_A5tq8aPYb0UNTHSBVufh7ANm4v2B9mCx7mnfV-4/s1600/rue+de+la+merci.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="369" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGdA7QlSaIJ-egH_c2bTioBEQCOhLlK4XKMLBFjB2zqYbVKt8q20cSD9BQfPho26plyutWhOYUckyLFPIuzks0rvJLMGEd7N85anY_A5tq8aPYb0UNTHSBVufh7ANm4v2B9mCx7mnfV-4/s200/rue+de+la+merci.jpg" width="152" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGTAvVzmXjLon1odY2RClkX5ganNy8_pRoYhXRLd5FVgwJflaPbQD8T7fhmdXGCAMR58PXHTi0XgMKCH0vc9av3nqnuGHmpUlLSgoScDnAuurIoKwMTM_I8_BMCVEmGz-eX0tr5w0ZsPV/s1600/Brocante.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGTAvVzmXjLon1odY2RClkX5ganNy8_pRoYhXRLd5FVgwJflaPbQD8T7fhmdXGCAMR58PXHTi0XgMKCH0vc9av3nqnuGHmpUlLSgoScDnAuurIoKwMTM_I8_BMCVEmGz-eX0tr5w0ZsPV/s400/Brocante.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bordeaux Brocante - May, 2017</td></tr>
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And take a big Gulp of the Divine Breath!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuzn8gsodUA2TYtboQKkpX8Hpyn25yrVKtu9ln5fTVwPwDv_CqiqNZlM5wPsLMVDZNB5ISOvC18_phpyI0yCFseu3ttRqzp63Unh_vLmdKiSVl70wR4a3VRMml_8SDR_g1ZndLJViBEjM/s1600/The+Divine+Breath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="770" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuzn8gsodUA2TYtboQKkpX8Hpyn25yrVKtu9ln5fTVwPwDv_CqiqNZlM5wPsLMVDZNB5ISOvC18_phpyI0yCFseu3ttRqzp63Unh_vLmdKiSVl70wR4a3VRMml_8SDR_g1ZndLJViBEjM/s640/The+Divine+Breath.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">www.alexandraeldridge.com - Nuart Gallery, Santa Fe, New Mexico, till June 11th</td></tr>
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So this is my little prayer-blog written for you on the eve of my departure for the West of Ireland (with a little help from my friends, those divine mystics, poets and artists). May they rock on! Sorry if this is disjointed, there is a big storm raging with lightning bolts that will surely take out the electrics at any moment. <br />
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<b>Have cards will Travel </b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58_G0d8fHIpZVrFRMrj2QGMCJQxY3DSyRtgxafZ8Ibe9JAtyQoXpyZa8KQRGzGJ6B0hc5bNQQohYJdxGJP-EM1XXq-HBBRgLq1_ogQjzZcuIF8Sbq2z9ZdhQ1DUpfVorSQkobvI74YjNV/s1600/sphinx_tarot_crowley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="148" data-original-width="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58_G0d8fHIpZVrFRMrj2QGMCJQxY3DSyRtgxafZ8Ibe9JAtyQoXpyZa8KQRGzGJ6B0hc5bNQQohYJdxGJP-EM1XXq-HBBRgLq1_ogQjzZcuIF8Sbq2z9ZdhQ1DUpfVorSQkobvI74YjNV/s1600/sphinx_tarot_crowley.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wheel of Fortune - Thoth Deck, Crowley</td></tr>
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<b> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
to Conemarra, David Whyte Poetry Tour, 2017, where it all began 20 years ago with these two great poets and mystics, David Whyte & John O' Donohue. I received blessings which have lasted me all this time. Time to recharge! Poetry was given back to me, and I was given back to poetry.</div>
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Slan agat and blessings.</div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">The Joyful Mysteries</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">THE ANNUNCIATION</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Cast from afar before the stones were born</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">and rain had rinsed the darkness for colour,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">the words have waited for the hunger in her</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">to become the silence where they could form.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">The day's last light frames her by the window,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">a young woman with distance in her gaze,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">she could never imagine the surprise</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">that is hovering over her life now.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">The sentence awakens like a raven,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">fluttering and dark, opening her heart</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">to nest the voice that first whispered the earth</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">from dream into wind, stone, sky and ocean.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">She offers to mother the shadows child;</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">her untouched life becoming wild inside. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">John O' Donohue, Connemara Blues</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">www.johnodonohue.com </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxqaw9pwqZUX_Wzmpi9ncxdJi6CFkAhSvLn00IJC0ust_ftBFpShtzucpxPbQqxhSwNjYcg0FnX0l4JRrRLMMoc2oqyvhIpJcO-fBjJJTk4veDr74ROj0FYxJVH9scb6KSwnSc-d7rFXF/s1600/Keyofdestiny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmxqaw9pwqZUX_Wzmpi9ncxdJi6CFkAhSvLn00IJC0ust_ftBFpShtzucpxPbQqxhSwNjYcg0FnX0l4JRrRLMMoc2oqyvhIpJcO-fBjJJTk4veDr74ROj0FYxJVH9scb6KSwnSc-d7rFXF/s320/Keyofdestiny.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bordeaux - Key of Destiny</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>All roads start from the body and lead back to it.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>The Body is the Road - </i></span><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">Edmond JabĂšs, Egyptian Poet </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"></span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaGFe3yixb_z-37WqmipfFSZuyAc5wOrcKgKvFxFb-IGfzotv0YNpTaha99RBkE6ZX8nBCKL2q0QncQH9UrnOFs1XBos6_QRC9cf6tR6ERH9ow__Vs0k_EyTU9FeSZRdERnbJH9GR5l1H/s1600/Thalia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaGFe3yixb_z-37WqmipfFSZuyAc5wOrcKgKvFxFb-IGfzotv0YNpTaha99RBkE6ZX8nBCKL2q0QncQH9UrnOFs1XBos6_QRC9cf6tR6ERH9ow__Vs0k_EyTU9FeSZRdERnbJH9GR5l1H/s1600/Thalia.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thalia - Muse of Comedy & Lyric Poetry</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-moX4RJiyYFlMSkomFZgEP3js2pgy9QtuRnRqhUxVQCdxxKcFh4EgSdNRNxjvFpuBx8b8g1zB7L6HkTwZ9yPJ0mO5MqF_GL1lrRp4302Wc2gsfpcROGfj5By9G5OXJzLYmT2pYrXu0FuS/s1600/Thalia_St_NOLA_Street_Tiles.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-moX4RJiyYFlMSkomFZgEP3js2pgy9QtuRnRqhUxVQCdxxKcFh4EgSdNRNxjvFpuBx8b8g1zB7L6HkTwZ9yPJ0mO5MqF_GL1lrRp4302Wc2gsfpcROGfj5By9G5OXJzLYmT2pYrXu0FuS/s320/Thalia_St_NOLA_Street_Tiles.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thalia Street Tile - New Orleans</td></tr>
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I always keep my comic MUSE close at hand!</div>
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<br />Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-69637627421229017192017-04-01T08:19:00.000-07:002017-04-01T08:19:01.072-07:00APRIL "FOOLS", French for Dummies & "Me Talk Pretty One Day"<div style="text-align: center;">
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Let's all be Fool's for a day!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRBynMHmFr0w0z0Vgn3p3nY9Oa5XFUzxDtvceYJwEuflMZJ93aYMi6wBdcT2n9aRAXRSlCfmYvMPHwBATzsp22o1GQyQAOTvgOV9sgHMIU7ckZUenUHvoI0d1agN3ctkKHT2YEOSSGggM/s1600/Burning+Man.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRBynMHmFr0w0z0Vgn3p3nY9Oa5XFUzxDtvceYJwEuflMZJ93aYMi6wBdcT2n9aRAXRSlCfmYvMPHwBATzsp22o1GQyQAOTvgOV9sgHMIU7ckZUenUHvoI0d1agN3ctkKHT2YEOSSGggM/s1600/Burning+Man.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosita & Freya at Burning Man - Black Rock, Nevada - Photo E.Thiermann</td></tr>
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"To change one's life"</div>
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1. Start immediately</div>
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2. Do it flamboyantly</div>
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3. No exceptions </div>
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- William James<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjexIO8k-Lu1-ZbdPpuTU1WPxIS8pMPrJseO3Lhrz0gaR_pNU722cxg-HBlZNi0iorGPH7AxfEd1P5AKjIhADW9rIYqBZF6OfG212PsFqtZYAgapO090DBr7aHMW5lo0sKMVA_IEvxtOKlH/s1600/Rosita.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjexIO8k-Lu1-ZbdPpuTU1WPxIS8pMPrJseO3Lhrz0gaR_pNU722cxg-HBlZNi0iorGPH7AxfEd1P5AKjIhADW9rIYqBZF6OfG212PsFqtZYAgapO090DBr7aHMW5lo0sKMVA_IEvxtOKlH/s1600/Rosita.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosita (Dottie) Konya,Turkey - Twirling at the Dervish Brothers</td></tr>
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This week I heard my first spring Cuckoo & saw the first slugs of the season...had to "set fire to the rain" again -<br />
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><b>I realize I never finished this Blog, started April 1, 2014, still sitting here in draft form, while I'm still trying to learn how to speak French! The joke's on me..</b>.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMFwEiqN1s5KnXY90NjIae5Y4zYKEXp-SFqyrDNoP5drjKsgvliojiD6Wz3IpqlHRYoFugkdgxwhoLbUg4FpBlI3000l8om9v4KP-7oY3UdDE_vWgCOc-vjvOlDN5RQNsBKplcdhJ9GiZ1/s320/French+for+Dummies.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my classmates in Ronsenac - Karena Lowman's French Class</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">April Fool's Day - Let's Wash the Lions</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"Poisson
d'avril!" and "pesce d'aprile! - in France, Italy, and French speaking
Canada, kids and adults run around tacking paper fish to people's backs
(without getting caught) & then shouting April Fools! No one stuck
any fish to my back today, but I did have a delicious meal, of
"Cabillaud", which is le roi de la mer (King of the sea) in France and
known as Cod in USA. It is a fish that has been eaten in Europe since
the Middle Ages. The fishing boats leave from La Rochelle and search the
cold, salty North Atlantic waters where the schools of Cabillaud
migrate. The
dried Cod is called Morue and is often preserved & sold salted
within an inch of its life. Once I made the mistake of purchasing the
Morue, preparing it lovingly (without rinsing it)= <span style="color: orange;">April Fools! <span style="color: black;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In
1508, French poet Eloy d'Amerval referred to a poisson d'avril,
literally "April Fish", and in 1539, a Flemish poet, Eduard de Dene,
wrote of a nobleman who sent his servants on foolish errands on April
1st. Seems as though the French & Flemish poets had quite a sense
of humor! One of the first British references appears in the 17th c.,
writings of John Aubrey, who called it "Fooles holy day" -- on April 1,
1698, on a not very holy fooles errand, several people were tricked into
the Tower of London to <span style="color: orange;">"see the Lions washed". </span> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJHMlXZ8zw3nh1gBIeIUTrw3yfT7u0exKkcWwEu_2JZDlVYFPQsAlzMt5ipHgO-1L8FumF8FCJ35YXRZxtij42uBTgSBPkyBA8mYNIl9m41T_TWG0YIn61KxQtogGvvZFGn6B3q2RAnxL/s1600/Lantern+bearer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJHMlXZ8zw3nh1gBIeIUTrw3yfT7u0exKkcWwEu_2JZDlVYFPQsAlzMt5ipHgO-1L8FumF8FCJ35YXRZxtij42uBTgSBPkyBA8mYNIl9m41T_TWG0YIn61KxQtogGvvZFGn6B3q2RAnxL/s320/Lantern+bearer.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to guide us thru the syntax - Ronsenac </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">All of this "foolishness" makes me think of one of my favorite Tarot cards: <span style="color: orange;">"The Fool" </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8zTcB31TsvnIdEJqRr7mZ54jlKlqFy3qPpUaxMV1ff8kbEkvneCTQ57AEZo-YttReDpIY41jhJpGIuwRK4fgwoQ3XCBEN7sMW9GOYtVjqGFIYTEv3dMzugskwZBLZDZcg8C1xn3rNPPC/s1600/vista-print-postcard-0-bleed-size%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8zTcB31TsvnIdEJqRr7mZ54jlKlqFy3qPpUaxMV1ff8kbEkvneCTQ57AEZo-YttReDpIY41jhJpGIuwRK4fgwoQ3XCBEN7sMW9GOYtVjqGFIYTEv3dMzugskwZBLZDZcg8C1xn3rNPPC/s320/vista-print-postcard-0-bleed-size%25282%2529.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RaRa - <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Toujours un Imbécile</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggWpacbKepEVbKX683yRkiwJ316CGVHYFMcJtjVhJKWgpP2DOxZJQzjpt3Feg_S1_AbyKordY9NWXxqJdSIf2bctVFqIjaLKJmb5NDJ81c3lRNhMyDqyp6mtAq5Tj7bmuA5kh9uKRXYY8D/s1600/Sedaris.jpg" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Brilliant David Sedaris</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #e69138;">Watch out for paper fish & don't fall for that Lion washing gag again! </span></div>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-54018820251997264692016-12-31T00:05:00.000-08:002017-01-28T04:42:42.448-08:00THE ART OF REMEMBERING, A Suitcase of Memories in the Year of Mercy - Part I<br />
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It's winter now - I'm knocked up by memories, surrounded by frost and cobwebs...didn't use any protection, so here I am again, rummaging around in the credenza of my soul. The Starlings, <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">les Ă©tourneaux, are on the ascendant. </span></span></div>
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Worn Out Gloves<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Hc8ElZQB5hX7xYvL1pbVREEkMdzDmqZKDKfU-w4tpnswnyCvaeTE3dpyYwPAhxUllhe-a6iTvMwA-WijrF-pkt_-I2upAQgaUIi30AJQfTrisigKCFKMsSdrAquXi5ywUBxyy502tlaQ/s400/Wornoutgloves.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="266" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Koszmarne GÄ
szczu KoĆysanki from Deviant Art</td></tr>
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Life in Suspension - La Vie Suspendue</div>
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"Let me introduce myself.<br />
I'm the Memory Collector, your companion and spirit guide.<br />
Let's unwind the clock, peel the past.<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> The reflections you give me, conjure, surrender from within,<br /> I throw into the fire, the cauldron of resolutions.<br /> They burn into embers and flickers that evolve into butterflies.<br /> They flutter away, heal and free you of all chains<br /> so they can revisit and invent who you are.<br /> Let the dance begin..."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span class="text_exposed_show"> Helene Cardona</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span class="text_exposed_show"></span><span class="text_exposed_show"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span class="text_exposed_show"> Excerpt from "Life in Suspension", Salmon Poetry - 2016</span></span></div>
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In Europe, I live on Air, and Prayer and Stone...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Chapelle-Montbrandeix</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI6Xx7rLWP_fUjyjs3MzDrLS7llJ2c0bIW7HAaPyDQKyDG5CW6hK31PuC4Fl12GYGN1bAFr4s6qAZw0yTZz0fVV4-eO6R1oYljWORSLOidfyFSJ2PbuJnlnVLUyJ-ibgTGLDm1tjDsQFqZ/s1600/Pembrokeshire+coastWales.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI6Xx7rLWP_fUjyjs3MzDrLS7llJ2c0bIW7HAaPyDQKyDG5CW6hK31PuC4Fl12GYGN1bAFr4s6qAZw0yTZz0fVV4-eO6R1oYljWORSLOidfyFSJ2PbuJnlnVLUyJ-ibgTGLDm1tjDsQFqZ/s320/Pembrokeshire+coastWales.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pembrokeshire Coast - Wales</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Readings at Harmony Holistics</td></tr>
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"...Amid a place of stone,</div>
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Be secret and exult,</div>
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Because of all things known</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That is most difficult." - W.B. Yeats</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSU3hk8aeLosHwYOqB6it_BQsGsiKF4KnhDiTYww7zDx7lA2YIXJkmkLqJ6qwyKbto63jkf4b2RrgXYbJlau5AwE3aD8mg3y8gW2dVyDTfgRMVWK0fYiqAYNhn0yYo6H28ufGes68bGL1/s1600/SnailMeaning3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSU3hk8aeLosHwYOqB6it_BQsGsiKF4KnhDiTYww7zDx7lA2YIXJkmkLqJ6qwyKbto63jkf4b2RrgXYbJlau5AwE3aD8mg3y8gW2dVyDTfgRMVWK0fYiqAYNhn0yYo6H28ufGes68bGL1/s320/SnailMeaning3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time, Transition, Spiraling, Expanding</td></tr>
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Life is simple and elemental in <i>The Rooms of Time</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilXZAAJxqGORVRfsY_oi5pwUfApdKG2uHRc7U_YU3EBVICVT76Tz0PSREjMpisVT3TSJCsC8EYbEuG9LhR2N9NCmAtpv02cLItvbtZj4n2d-FyFZbrRoX1CKJjQ1Q-j8DzbtALw4uPEv5s/s1600/lespieces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilXZAAJxqGORVRfsY_oi5pwUfApdKG2uHRc7U_YU3EBVICVT76Tz0PSREjMpisVT3TSJCsC8EYbEuG9LhR2N9NCmAtpv02cLItvbtZj4n2d-FyFZbrRoX1CKJjQ1Q-j8DzbtALw4uPEv5s/s200/lespieces.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Chapelle Montbrandeix</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbTzLf-x1TMVEbYT7jIvI8KglZHsgOBLd7HWl25vQLyRc9AD5BUvsQfHKSpM0gO49454mpVk95-zUcW14MHVu05NRm358blcycwuzmiZt9wBORxv5dk6EZbrNufT8mPYDn0b74aucknvK/s1600/Orbs+La+Chapelle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbTzLf-x1TMVEbYT7jIvI8KglZHsgOBLd7HWl25vQLyRc9AD5BUvsQfHKSpM0gO49454mpVk95-zUcW14MHVu05NRm358blcycwuzmiZt9wBORxv5dk6EZbrNufT8mPYDn0b74aucknvK/s200/Orbs+La+Chapelle.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orbs</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTRcgNs0zLqmGb0pxLUZM7OXCW9xYAgvyVoI229eh6JyEu-eqrxoqbxBrLrIIKIJbtukDB_tWxgFXnQ-sQEF_HNq2PqMRNf1VVK1sriwq-B-4Mk85ddSGxWZ_5Blco-Bao5hUKO9mWJXLF/s1600/Couch+wooden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTRcgNs0zLqmGb0pxLUZM7OXCW9xYAgvyVoI229eh6JyEu-eqrxoqbxBrLrIIKIJbtukDB_tWxgFXnQ-sQEF_HNq2PqMRNf1VVK1sriwq-B-4Mk85ddSGxWZ_5Blco-Bao5hUKO9mWJXLF/s320/Couch+wooden.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> La Chapelle Montbrandeix </td></tr>
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The Joyful Mysteries</div>
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THE ANNUNCIATION</div>
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Cast from afar before the</div>
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stones were born</div>
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And rain had rinsed the</div>
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darkness of colour,</div>
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The words have waited</div>
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for the hunger in her</div>
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To become the silence</div>
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where they could form.</div>
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The day's last light frames</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
her by the window,</div>
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A young woman with</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
distance in her gaze,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She could never imagine</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the surprise</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That is hovering over her </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
life now.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
The sentence awakens </div>
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like a raven,</div>
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Fluttering and dark,</div>
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opening her heart</div>
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To nest the voice that</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
first whispered the earth</div>
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from dream into wind,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
stone, sky and ocean.</div>
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She offers to mother the</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
shadow's child;</div>
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Her untouched life becoming</div>
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wild inside. </div>
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John O'Donohue - Conamara Blues<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ugfUxyq-7UR4yOmNytzt22-98vm8SeuID4flQOnagDt67sC-Gfl-HlrgitWweEnZ6TWsmrhMfulNAIrn2zlbUSrt2VVjomXwU9Jz_8BJ08c2NEVilf8lYjt7y9GkCa1f3VqyC29E3qC7/s1600/harmonylachapelle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ugfUxyq-7UR4yOmNytzt22-98vm8SeuID4flQOnagDt67sC-Gfl-HlrgitWweEnZ6TWsmrhMfulNAIrn2zlbUSrt2VVjomXwU9Jz_8BJ08c2NEVilf8lYjt7y9GkCa1f3VqyC29E3qC7/s320/harmonylachapelle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another Day, Another Portal - Tarot Readings at Harmony Holistics</td></tr>
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Memory for the Greeks was the mother of all the Muses: Mnemosyne mater Musarum</div>
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<i>And distance is the essence of beauty, because only distance purifies the reality of what Schopenhauer called the will-to-life, which is the source of suffering, of all our overwhelming possessive desires, then distance is achieved when the world appears in our memories. This bountiful memory, one twinned with Imagination, sets before our eyes vivid images, rich in details, not pale languid shadows...For Marcel Proust, the small sponge cakes called madelines...dipped in lime flower tisane, evoked memories of childhood and brought happiness. They caused a revelation, an epiphany. In this simultaneous experience of the present and the past, Proust began to see clearly in a state of rapture. </i> from Kore: On Sickness, the Sick and the Search for the Soul of Medicine, Andrzej Szczeklik</div>
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ZOU - La Hameau de la Brousse</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNM38jmbcjK1EJELvOoqyQ4_Tync2TC6wGZDAtv6d1iIBiMYfgj6NO-kzoLKeg57xsRvk23lu7FMmlhsgr8lHGbxoQn3AOkuACSVwQbNFyF69RKdeAxAuF3QaMyZfQAUUWqcdPzOuK5Y6e/s1600/La+porte.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNM38jmbcjK1EJELvOoqyQ4_Tync2TC6wGZDAtv6d1iIBiMYfgj6NO-kzoLKeg57xsRvk23lu7FMmlhsgr8lHGbxoQn3AOkuACSVwQbNFyF69RKdeAxAuF3QaMyZfQAUUWqcdPzOuK5Y6e/s320/La+porte.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The door to the invisible must be visible - Rene Daumal</td></tr>
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<i>It's always now. The now is eternal. We always see with memory. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Laugh a lot, it clears the lungs.</i><br />
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David Hockney<br />
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My Chariot year proved true to its wheels; they never stopped turning. </div>
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What a wild ride I had! This elephant would have been more comfortable.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nuSysT8h8gC6D1i36L_bLG9aKDtDna3bf61zHXXFnIyydSH_m6iwCa8rBWGB2efDWBqAfhbFuTw8Gi_oTjc-hB345O9jGCYEjm-T_E80fSBlwqnU9QZ4nLlzocLj26f4EfnrJCGV8JWk/s1600/TheChariot2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nuSysT8h8gC6D1i36L_bLG9aKDtDna3bf61zHXXFnIyydSH_m6iwCa8rBWGB2efDWBqAfhbFuTw8Gi_oTjc-hB345O9jGCYEjm-T_E80fSBlwqnU9QZ4nLlzocLj26f4EfnrJCGV8JWk/s400/TheChariot2.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Chariot, www.alexandraeldridge.com</td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">There is no chronology of events to follow here, <i>especially when I'm thinkin' from my heart,<span style="color: #e69138;"> <span style="color: #f9cb9c;">b</span></span>ut life don't clickety clack down a straight line track, it comes together and it comes apart.</i> - Ferron, from Ain't Life a Brook. And the Cards exist outside of linear time; if I knew more about Quantum logic I could tell you more about that, but I don't!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: #e69138;">They didn't sing it, but these Cats said it even better:</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #fce5cd;">Time is the moving image of eternity - Plato</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #fce5cd;"><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span>The mystery of dismemberment is life in time - Joseph Campbell</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="color: #fce5cd;">Time is a conception to measure eternity - Mahareshi Mahesh Yogi</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjszKQ0TldgugHeHpRQrIZjl1qkOUf9-jF7VkCHT6inLn6WjeYKzNJKXPXbGrePRuk7jQffpCcirvdK5GHa8Ig4lhDRQDh6CeRH3CYr3uCqTqlX8Wa9sDuZ4sBEztGZFo4E6UO89YY749/s1600/Eternity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjszKQ0TldgugHeHpRQrIZjl1qkOUf9-jF7VkCHT6inLn6WjeYKzNJKXPXbGrePRuk7jQffpCcirvdK5GHa8Ig4lhDRQDh6CeRH3CYr3uCqTqlX8Wa9sDuZ4sBEztGZFo4E6UO89YY749/s320/Eternity.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere in Santa Fe, Chimayo, Silver City?</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #e69138;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
I don't know what it's like for you but here's what <br />
it's like for me... I wanted to turn beautiful and <br />
serve Eternity and never follow money or love with <br />
greasy hands, or move the earth and waters just to make <br />
it fit my plans. My eyes would be the harbor, my words <br />
the perfect place for a girl on a road.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ferron</div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> Have Cards - Will Travel </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31cS3PDwTF-see9pGDY5JaQo02RcTsAjwNduvYgAQSbWackuVM6iOADk-y255PhzKb0wOUAULdwmSQhY_MbWj8Jb1EKa5FbNgv4i2K5AyKrsWHA5QvcogPA6nj_tPyVuvGh8pnsLSlYLv/s1600/malpertuis-lenormand-12269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31cS3PDwTF-see9pGDY5JaQo02RcTsAjwNduvYgAQSbWackuVM6iOADk-y255PhzKb0wOUAULdwmSQhY_MbWj8Jb1EKa5FbNgv4i2K5AyKrsWHA5QvcogPA6nj_tPyVuvGh8pnsLSlYLv/s200/malpertuis-lenormand-12269.jpg" width="143" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stork - Malpertuis Leormand</td></tr>
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<br />
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> ...and they did, May and June from Charras to Bordeaux, Fr., Amsterdam, San Francisco, Vallejo, Mill Valley, Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Taos, Chimayo, Silver City and all the way back again. In August & September, Southeast France. Maps on my taps. I read for French students in the train station, in airports - after the flight from Amsterdam to Bordeaux was cancelled, I read for anxiety-pocked travelers at the "home on the road hotel". Guess what they wanted to know? I read for 20 women & one lovely man at a garden party in Ross with Hawaiian dancers & music. I read for dozens at the Good Earth in Mill Valley. After 200 Tarot readings, I stopped counting. </span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QMd-fFAmAQKXrWJKO8_To5ID-aZJoi74DGT2ZUYS84eB2Qgtw8JjUfiRQL00rJEm3H_u29x48KSiyL4znhE78ZoI8jH8er9qn4i6SNolQSCyO_xOiOGyV5_JkOQqdBV3pWstoP0Im2Iy/s1600/P1180249.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QMd-fFAmAQKXrWJKO8_To5ID-aZJoi74DGT2ZUYS84eB2Qgtw8JjUfiRQL00rJEm3H_u29x48KSiyL4znhE78ZoI8jH8er9qn4i6SNolQSCyO_xOiOGyV5_JkOQqdBV3pWstoP0Im2Iy/s400/P1180249.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HOOP, Andrea Broyles, Santa Fe, N.M. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<i>This journey is best described by a concept borrowed from Plato,
'metaxu', being 'in between,' in between our earth...comprehensible,
concrete, material surroundings, and transcendence, mystery...the
situation of the human who is incurably 'en route.</i><br />
<i> In Defense of
Ardor: Essays - Adam Zagajewski </i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHtTMqVrmdRjKiE3hbFBlG0Zht1PEmizFf6H88YH1tHS2pSv2mwbzz-FcxJU2cbSSNVmUxSJKz4kZhA7ZO7KQd4yKuHX7y1Z2fNaV9fI7D7g_thwc6pITDuDdhwLrrd2XEFkG09loP-c0N/s1600/Andrea+Broyles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHtTMqVrmdRjKiE3hbFBlG0Zht1PEmizFf6H88YH1tHS2pSv2mwbzz-FcxJU2cbSSNVmUxSJKz4kZhA7ZO7KQd4yKuHX7y1Z2fNaV9fI7D7g_thwc6pITDuDdhwLrrd2XEFkG09loP-c0N/s320/Andrea+Broyles.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andreabroyles.net - Santa Fe, New Mexico</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The map is not the territory, </i>so said Alfred Korzybski.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i><br />
<i>The body is the road. </i>Edmond JabĂšs<br />
<br />
<i>This place where you are right now, God Circled on a map for you</i>. Hafiz </div>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4QqLmlL0EryqOtpSqiDZ1p5bOZo4qNTLG6eIoOL1l6eL1vS6cwYyoRxd3FYzoX-7sFl5GkcAFLJ4mW-TBBd0boE9DFDr0b0OKb_v1CrAcnaKOuzZozVXiM_3AYY9PtJHkvaNF17Yk-Ja/s1600/Canyon+road+steps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl4QqLmlL0EryqOtpSqiDZ1p5bOZo4qNTLG6eIoOL1l6eL1vS6cwYyoRxd3FYzoX-7sFl5GkcAFLJ4mW-TBBd0boE9DFDr0b0OKb_v1CrAcnaKOuzZozVXiM_3AYY9PtJHkvaNF17Yk-Ja/s320/Canyon+road+steps.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steps - Canyon Road, Santa Fe, N.M.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
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<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
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<br />
Traveling was an opening to revelation, to the natural stories, cycles and powers outside of myself - enough tiptoeing to the windowsill! A pilgrimage of sorts, as poet, David Whyte, speaks about in "A Great Invitation"; escaping one's own confining story, through entering the stories of others, being found by the world.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>"The Opening of Eyes"</b><br />
<br />
"That day I saw beneath dark clouds<br />
The passing light over the water,<br />
And I heard the voice of the world speak out.<br />
I knew then as I have before,<br />
Life is no passing memory of what has been,<br />
Nor the remaining pages of a great book<br />
Waiting to be read.<br />
<br />
It is the opening of eyes long closed.<br />
It is the vision of far off things,<br />
Seen for the silence they hold.<br />
It is the heart after years of secret conversing<br />
Speaking out loud in the clear air.<br />
<br />
It is Moses in the desert fallen to his knees<br />
Before the lit bush.<br />
It is the man throwing away his shoes<br />
As if to enter heaven and finding himself astonished,<br />
Opened at last,<br />
Fallen in love<br />
With Solid Ground."<br />
<br />
~ David Whyte, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Songs for Coming Home"</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRoskitSgQqyoYa1vtbb4Lcwhhj6-PG87BtRIl0BD3nisFdBOlUmlheU0pv7isdxE-tBQ8SOcRaW9i1dzWll8BdkK6D4w27Nb8bxW3gJgsv9AukFGGCYMUMy8_NFiUG1pdmdhwLFH6xBVJ/s1600/From+the+Market+Tesuque+N.M..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRoskitSgQqyoYa1vtbb4Lcwhhj6-PG87BtRIl0BD3nisFdBOlUmlheU0pv7isdxE-tBQ8SOcRaW9i1dzWll8BdkK6D4w27Nb8bxW3gJgsv9AukFGGCYMUMy8_NFiUG1pdmdhwLFH6xBVJ/s320/From+the+Market+Tesuque+N.M..jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mural on wall of The Market - Tesuque, N.M.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: right;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4iLC5jKeaKkiayInpIWhmI5tqcI36CaMAxp07PiA3m05tTkhQn9Dr4bPa5MUe7pFZ6adPQkZvwyJsCMrFJfIrltj636Hgix3IVQ9PI0BmshYXu74zHgADY60LE4VcToUMWCysDF1CHMw/s1600/Dawnlaby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4iLC5jKeaKkiayInpIWhmI5tqcI36CaMAxp07PiA3m05tTkhQn9Dr4bPa5MUe7pFZ6adPQkZvwyJsCMrFJfIrltj636Hgix3IVQ9PI0BmshYXu74zHgADY60LE4VcToUMWCysDF1CHMw/s320/Dawnlaby.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawn/Aurora - at the beginning</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnwsavhVUvnKqpLu8MsP5PA884KlUe0YfAOxQE59ccAQYLez3amStuIBu97GsDolFE_6WkG1e3SS_LZMUjao51Mwlud3fQr9OgzP4dF7Cr5CdE7roE9qGrTd69T9JKg3qrcDl-XZUR4Cev/s1600/opentorevelation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnwsavhVUvnKqpLu8MsP5PA884KlUe0YfAOxQE59ccAQYLez3amStuIBu97GsDolFE_6WkG1e3SS_LZMUjao51Mwlud3fQr9OgzP4dF7Cr5CdE7roE9qGrTd69T9JKg3qrcDl-XZUR4Cev/s200/opentorevelation.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Open to Revelation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkrvyCM_F0zlc6wlnRGMxIZI6D_q7goPBHuKVzHRY-8uWJ2kholtM91izEC-qNBunQrThhe_7ngAdbLf_8FTN63CFSvxuqnrIY_zYdoi6F7k7wAiBUlOD47cOzrDX6Rw8HM2FqTRze2fA/s1600/LabyrinthraOJo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnkrvyCM_F0zlc6wlnRGMxIZI6D_q7goPBHuKVzHRY-8uWJ2kholtM91izEC-qNBunQrThhe_7ngAdbLf_8FTN63CFSvxuqnrIY_zYdoi6F7k7wAiBUlOD47cOzrDX6Rw8HM2FqTRze2fA/s200/LabyrinthraOJo.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking the Labyrinth - Ojo Caliente, N.M.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVtF_HdC9tB7UTGmYEoiSx5jG-luhabAbhGw6M7iNvUz8xK3Wbsruv0XyfItjoJdfJ0Ka2WOchaOpu73_PENoFGWTA-nar1VQgrks-vrfnAXkgsTv6RXpgnlLT6ygWqJs2_Pc_n36o52k/s1600/Dawnlabyface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVtF_HdC9tB7UTGmYEoiSx5jG-luhabAbhGw6M7iNvUz8xK3Wbsruv0XyfItjoJdfJ0Ka2WOchaOpu73_PENoFGWTA-nar1VQgrks-vrfnAXkgsTv6RXpgnlLT6ygWqJs2_Pc_n36o52k/s320/Dawnlabyface.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Opening of Eyes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMHnm2dMu_aV4AB9blANIS0a6uzkfZIccz9HhT30gkQA3528zu85mCFofiFUm62JhtvYNDyOOo4sOD0r34wUARogb-0kB_de_17fHGSuDGbQ8NzwmPOz8ed2c8HGHEP7SzMDcJh5Ok4ph/s1600/Ojocrow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMHnm2dMu_aV4AB9blANIS0a6uzkfZIccz9HhT30gkQA3528zu85mCFofiFUm62JhtvYNDyOOo4sOD0r34wUARogb-0kB_de_17fHGSuDGbQ8NzwmPOz8ed2c8HGHEP7SzMDcJh5Ok4ph/s320/Ojocrow.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ojo Crow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>'What is Grace' I asked God.<br />And he said,<br />'All that happens.' </i><br />
<br />
Love Poems from God: by Daniel Ladinsky </div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
So many Misbegotten Moons between <i>The Desire of Star</i>s and <i>The Year of Mercy</i>. I lost two blogs - words upon words written over weeks, days, hours, vanished. The first one went AWOL after I had written the last sentence, the ink wasn't even dry. Poof! went the Photo Phantasms. Blood, sweat and tears poured over the wireless keyboard. Went through the seven stages of grief; gave up piecing the blogs back together, started afresh, surfing the waves of consciousness by watching lots of Danish and Swedish crime shows, and a French detective series called Spiral. It seemed important to surround myself with narratives I couldn't completely understand.<br />
<br />
I got so much sympathy, empathy from my friends (mostly all writers). It's true what Henry James said about the three things in life that are important: The first is to have sympathy; the second is to have sympathy; and the third is to have sympathy. I'll add a fourth: <b>Back Up</b> (though that is not possible with Blogger - what is lost is lost).<br />
<br />
I realize we are in a different world now then when I wrote those words. Back then I was watching The Vikings (which coupled well with the interminable election), envisioning myself as the Shield Maiden, Lagertha, based on the flesh and blood Lagertha, who was married to THE real Ragnar Lothbrok. <br />
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-WiySDPcLf83Lrhqe1f0c9XbL04N_PrbzWn8bzUEPuzIRtSDgSLlTuhr6t1RI3Mu202b6BXev5zB58RVQa8yK67LetWA5icj89o0X79vjUtflymzwHlABziHYs65Scv1RHeyM_CQF6cg/s1600/Hervor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-WiySDPcLf83Lrhqe1f0c9XbL04N_PrbzWn8bzUEPuzIRtSDgSLlTuhr6t1RI3Mu202b6BXev5zB58RVQa8yK67LetWA5icj89o0X79vjUtflymzwHlABziHYs65Scv1RHeyM_CQF6cg/s400/Hervor.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shieldmaiden Hervor dying after battle with the Huns - Painting Peter Nicolai Arbo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
DIGITAL EPHEMERA</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Later, I learned about a malfunction in the
new wireless keyboard I got from Costco while I was in California.
However, I'm a huge believer in Fate & decided that Odin was angry. The blogs were
too long and self-indulgent; I was being punished. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Amor Fati </div>
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<b><i>Qui rides? Mutato nomine et de te fabula narrator. Why do you laugh? </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i> Change only the name and this story is about you. </i></b> Horace</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnsM1s_YHZFRgZUxT3O45vz3w0PZSMPOMxDgpL6LnkQp1tOP-yoM5ZmiwjaQyeBiEhO5ZrDNtKCnBP3KUWRY41E07ABhVIlUofgCcNszPtzM2HMMyufN4dXQgRwnHyFyxbYm2DViDXVTud/s1600/Heart+ofadogMeow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnsM1s_YHZFRgZUxT3O45vz3w0PZSMPOMxDgpL6LnkQp1tOP-yoM5ZmiwjaQyeBiEhO5ZrDNtKCnBP3KUWRY41E07ABhVIlUofgCcNszPtzM2HMMyufN4dXQgRwnHyFyxbYm2DViDXVTud/s400/Heart+ofadogMeow.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meow Wolf - Santa Fe, New Mexico</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="quoteText">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><i>The end is in the beginning and yet you go on.</i> Samuel Beckett, The Endgame</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">The greatest joy was to see old friends and old haunts with "new eyes" - to be a foreigner in the land of the familiar. And to be able to tell so many what they had meant to me, how they had changed me, touched my life, both here and there, then and now. Some traveled great distances, like Christine, who came all the way from Mineral Pt. Wisconsin on trains and buses to Santa Fe (good practice for her Camino Pilgrimage!), poet/artist Kim from Idaho, Jan from Italy Tarot Tour, Sherry on the Ferry, Laurie (my past/present/future girl!), and Jeannie, Donna & Victoria, Richard, Mikethustra, Denny & Greg from Malibu, my beloved brother Mark and poet Kathy Evans, and Liisa & Aurora, the Diamond Hearts at the center of my journey. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWJ9c2hUvNaENU4TrxDJTnPpAO82s3pw1KrgoGA5eei2G2GF6ns93kVPQKjlGvSZi8vZdatvz4bacYs_3HADkW0XZW9itG1_E6MbJ7Pw1J5W1sZBf7Dpo9O1iKtTtXKV7MXa2u44m7Xdu/s1600/Niki+de+St.+Phalle+Sculpture+garden+Italy+Tarot+Art%252C+History+Tour+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWJ9c2hUvNaENU4TrxDJTnPpAO82s3pw1KrgoGA5eei2G2GF6ns93kVPQKjlGvSZi8vZdatvz4bacYs_3HADkW0XZW9itG1_E6MbJ7Pw1J5W1sZBf7Dpo9O1iKtTtXKV7MXa2u44m7Xdu/s400/Niki+de+St.+Phalle+Sculpture+garden+Italy+Tarot+Art%252C+History+Tour+2012.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Niki de St. Phalle - Tuscany Sculpture Garden - Italy Tarot Tour</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">And to all those who gave me shelter in their wonderful homes; Dawn in Vallejo, Judy in Mill Valley, Alexandra and Rick in Tesuque, Stewart Warren in Silver City, Pamela Williams in Santa Fe - Thank you! And for all the Cards and Confidences we shared. I was able to read for almost every last one, as well as the now grown up children of my friends, Sean, Michelle, Sadie and Liam. </span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAANUY50hkwLhqeAxKwz-Ttmk_PxXg17jG8BqOqzRfJ-gPrLUAFTmd1J95TmZCQmq93tfOUXlrLSQ3aY_hpbvFy-SIpzrhkMGC4taQWA9BRd4YHLw6eyaJHgoiOat8jlHDDr5t_ZqgykZG/s1600/At+Judys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAANUY50hkwLhqeAxKwz-Ttmk_PxXg17jG8BqOqzRfJ-gPrLUAFTmd1J95TmZCQmq93tfOUXlrLSQ3aY_hpbvFy-SIpzrhkMGC4taQWA9BRd4YHLw6eyaJHgoiOat8jlHDDr5t_ZqgykZG/s320/At+Judys.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Judy's in Mill Valley before Ross Tarot Event</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH2yIUFvzJwnCqjxupDE5DQ6eFLaWNO5pL8s-7oAI6_79qv3PJPO5n0zqO9A9IBUbbKKFbCZJGCWwt1IGWy0QbBaBZYnYk83q3MMI-QNOhG3_85Vghd2U6Lho0PbHFR0-XDJxvRJa-bYcR/s320/Mark%2526me.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my brother Mark at Dawn's in Vallejo<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">I wrote all your names on the trees, in the sky, on the wind, stitched them onto my heart. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNxmZ1qFYdJVpWhZamRBmF4Lm9A_XGMb31C7tYrAdzoZkW4mTkAulOLU5mxqX8aTmcO6ioznvqN9g7EQO2Pe-cLICT3ZAvelcOrmQ2jts4GI3g1piIrDHgsfJtF43EB5YskEV-NJ6kW7Jw/s1600/Shinado+sculpture+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNxmZ1qFYdJVpWhZamRBmF4Lm9A_XGMb31C7tYrAdzoZkW4mTkAulOLU5mxqX8aTmcO6ioznvqN9g7EQO2Pe-cLICT3ZAvelcOrmQ2jts4GI3g1piIrDHgsfJtF43EB5YskEV-NJ6kW7Jw/s320/Shinado+sculpture+garden.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shidoni Sculpture Garden - Tesuque, N.M. photo Pam Williams</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
What Balzac said about friendship:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Ce qui rend les amitiĂ©s indissolubles et double leur charme, est un sentiment qui manque Ă lâamour, la certitude</b>. What makes friendship in-dissolute, and what doubles its charms, is a feeling we find lacking in love: I mean certitude. -Balzac</div>
<br />
<br />
I am sorry there were those whom I didn't get to see. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The hand opens to the word, opens to distance</i> - Edmond JabĂšs</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-oX3uaKM02_m-QujwAk1j-oem0k4V6LH6-q8dp3K3LtpAt5AUqSYqTPHB7xYPsmYGZWs0Y4QOR_kEPRzfoE7y450MzRrA2bB7j0MOOR-D_iG59PX0tuhzK9GSCZc9T-PrjwvQP9yle2A/s1600/Alexandra+hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-oX3uaKM02_m-QujwAk1j-oem0k4V6LH6-q8dp3K3LtpAt5AUqSYqTPHB7xYPsmYGZWs0Y4QOR_kEPRzfoE7y450MzRrA2bB7j0MOOR-D_iG59PX0tuhzK9GSCZc9T-PrjwvQP9yle2A/s320/Alexandra+hand.jpg" width="249" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I wish you were here" - www.alexandraeldridge.com </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Everywhere I roamed, a Congregation of Angels watched over me</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqlplheGgPp41KCOmGjgjeOWOHkEuEvuEvdHq5Mivy8Zw0xnNxm9yr8CZgaW6D8I5Mw29zbwDph152oBsxXVQZTURwyjeoADfe3FaiiY0QMJkOYF3kRdocujUxpKx61ik1lfBLErL1plx/s1600/St.+Michaelheld2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqlplheGgPp41KCOmGjgjeOWOHkEuEvuEvdHq5Mivy8Zw0xnNxm9yr8CZgaW6D8I5Mw29zbwDph152oBsxXVQZTURwyjeoADfe3FaiiY0QMJkOYF3kRdocujUxpKx61ik1lfBLErL1plx/s320/St.+Michaelheld2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me & St. Michael </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9BZNvH62Cy2iXoVEM_FJYxpFQScqtlM01-Phk16uQ0xg3wcHf1qYcQh-nbhsgxcKm9VZ_2FSOYd8v9EJm_Fhks1iuI98cnhzX4s5yXct4ssieEfxtmxXMJUqUMoQPbd9_Xml0p07eOwd/s1600/Shelter2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9BZNvH62Cy2iXoVEM_FJYxpFQScqtlM01-Phk16uQ0xg3wcHf1qYcQh-nbhsgxcKm9VZ_2FSOYd8v9EJm_Fhks1iuI98cnhzX4s5yXct4ssieEfxtmxXMJUqUMoQPbd9_Xml0p07eOwd/s320/Shelter2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gila National Forest- New Mexico</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwi-6iGBj956SBAhm3Yinx2QkVmdAF1GrTHlmjqejun1qyEn9yyFlpvDG4Vdn7pPiGVTrB1IMddlQoMP-9TyZau-ovp6WKdnvT3al-GFlCXKIHsvpjurQbb5xnApyZ4pKOpk7TZGnvJdm_/s1600/congregation+of+angels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwi-6iGBj956SBAhm3Yinx2QkVmdAF1GrTHlmjqejun1qyEn9yyFlpvDG4Vdn7pPiGVTrB1IMddlQoMP-9TyZau-ovp6WKdnvT3al-GFlCXKIHsvpjurQbb5xnApyZ4pKOpk7TZGnvJdm_/s400/congregation+of+angels.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZbOZ1jUFtfpSYU4BXEpTYCwkBe7pi3yxmbhxNw12Fxm7K8ouzJuXwtMVyv1lrpbjKPrMOOODMLZNYUszVsVZEWHICrVglZKwjHBqa5aicXqAfNFDKzM4XijmL2S8uR-B4ZKplqo3-7FZ/s1600/Angels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZbOZ1jUFtfpSYU4BXEpTYCwkBe7pi3yxmbhxNw12Fxm7K8ouzJuXwtMVyv1lrpbjKPrMOOODMLZNYUszVsVZEWHICrVglZKwjHBqa5aicXqAfNFDKzM4XijmL2S8uR-B4ZKplqo3-7FZ/s320/Angels.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Museum of International Folk Art - Santa Fe, N.M.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbjs_uADbTTc3vOSBEXmv6jYcdHCELfjh3uHLLG9SkcaGAaMCG_9kXtQHRDXN5PaptOqOoFc6eQxTwLfTRae6pU8wZ89fxALgJ2eR2Xt3grovH4RZq56gcBVSnhHkyM2dr7q3ygaHGGW3/s1600/Christine+%2526+Jane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbjs_uADbTTc3vOSBEXmv6jYcdHCELfjh3uHLLG9SkcaGAaMCG_9kXtQHRDXN5PaptOqOoFc6eQxTwLfTRae6pU8wZ89fxALgJ2eR2Xt3grovH4RZq56gcBVSnhHkyM2dr7q3ygaHGGW3/s320/Christine+%2526+Jane.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing sweeter than old friends - with Christine & Jane</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizHJrR_Cky-jlGPfukYp4-GWE1sjhY9upSduKEqfsmNt-m3OcMSE-QoenrwvIK5WS4c-eSE8iyu410pp2Uiilc8ePVVaqYBeAF-8CMmO4EOJLlPzu2DyxXKrtMOCKQJcORf4aIm37zu8nq/s1600/Be+Kind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizHJrR_Cky-jlGPfukYp4-GWE1sjhY9upSduKEqfsmNt-m3OcMSE-QoenrwvIK5WS4c-eSE8iyu410pp2Uiilc8ePVVaqYBeAF-8CMmO4EOJLlPzu2DyxXKrtMOCKQJcORf4aIm37zu8nq/s200/Be+Kind.jpg" width="195" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Museum of International Folk Art</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ly8JW_e9sdkkwP23vekSqwav3dGyNGJBPzTpdOYKjgiQsZKtju_9ps39mf2NIdpsEYpxHe_TUklKKJzoLUCxBxFzE22DR0r3nPtSgjkahcKCDWcYsxfsdPqYbYOIGkMIhNAsg9qWQIrt/s1600/angel+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ly8JW_e9sdkkwP23vekSqwav3dGyNGJBPzTpdOYKjgiQsZKtju_9ps39mf2NIdpsEYpxHe_TUklKKJzoLUCxBxFzE22DR0r3nPtSgjkahcKCDWcYsxfsdPqYbYOIGkMIhNAsg9qWQIrt/s320/angel+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am an Angel, but tell no one - www.alexandraeldridge.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Reality is a single unbroken wholeness in </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>flowing movement - everything is connected </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and everything is in dynamic flux.</i> - David Bohm</div>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmT9qJSHS-2FiAuXzjjF5zpgcC33ZUjdcGJs6-NBMpIwj0FMQS7hRaiWoMdR3ZONlOsU8SV_YMQfn0IYOk8fTKUkUkI9BVpQ1KtQPjRVz8pTwIpJyGfuyA_6_IiXmQIC1cooGXWcwi0sR/s1600/white+statue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirmT9qJSHS-2FiAuXzjjF5zpgcC33ZUjdcGJs6-NBMpIwj0FMQS7hRaiWoMdR3ZONlOsU8SV_YMQfn0IYOk8fTKUkUkI9BVpQ1KtQPjRVz8pTwIpJyGfuyA_6_IiXmQIC1cooGXWcwi0sR/s320/white+statue.jpg" width="199" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shidoni Sculpture Garden, Tesuque, N.M.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<![endif]--><i> </i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Real Life Angels & Guardians</div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-aB7fmgGBwfHoeP3yOFiZ7DPlRs-xwsXPKojHyrHekEiNctrHtQxyC2tE7v27G80zUQvI8q-wk39v1oh2RDUdSePiZwDV-9OXq41uuINYAmWvp395ETdXjG3fbGObGew1AyB-sAfFom7/s1600/Aurora.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp-aB7fmgGBwfHoeP3yOFiZ7DPlRs-xwsXPKojHyrHekEiNctrHtQxyC2tE7v27G80zUQvI8q-wk39v1oh2RDUdSePiZwDV-9OXq41uuINYAmWvp395ETdXjG3fbGObGew1AyB-sAfFom7/s400/Aurora.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aurora - Shield Maiden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i> On this journey, you begin to see how the sides of your
heart that seemed awkward, contradictory & uneven are the places where the
treasure lies hiddenâŠMore naked now than ever, you begin to feel truly alive.
You begin to trust the music of your own soul; you have inherited treasure that
no one will ever be able to take from you. At the deepest level, this adventure
of growth is in fact a transfigurative conversation with your own death. And
when the time comes for you to leave, the view from your death bed will show a
life of growth that gladdens the heart and takes away all fear.</i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i> The Question Holds the Lantern - John O' Donohue<br />
www.johnodonohue.com </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQXdW9wA2S__VCzKb0-4x59Ga5qD5Y8ch5xFEccPlLDRQDMtYFvWPdnOHFU2UJOEO-P3YLM-DBR_W4-B9P4kVfQEk8u218s8clQ9uhNHE1EfLKJWBsVWCdKQIBFSGA1qduQIdKbYebwAq6/s1600/Liisafairfax.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQXdW9wA2S__VCzKb0-4x59Ga5qD5Y8ch5xFEccPlLDRQDMtYFvWPdnOHFU2UJOEO-P3YLM-DBR_W4-B9P4kVfQEk8u218s8clQ9uhNHE1EfLKJWBsVWCdKQIBFSGA1qduQIdKbYebwAq6/s320/Liisafairfax.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liisa waiting patiently at Wu Wei Temple, Fairax, Ca.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<br />
It was a "Wu-Wei" evening, introducing the Le Petit Lenormand cards, coupled with Tarot, into the Temple. Good things happened, natural action, in alignment with the flow of chocolate biscuits.<br />
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrDcUQOjpsIGEssGEid0jGj_F6Ds8E_XrbxXj1rvhNa1mQ9yc4u04srjUR68kq4Gc2CpEF5LnI_yf_TUDbedp9_hjktOTDS7ABLjBKCMlGZjReV2N7HjIqtFgSrw5JhFj-pv9shFyyfSPK/s1600/RAWuwei.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrDcUQOjpsIGEssGEid0jGj_F6Ds8E_XrbxXj1rvhNa1mQ9yc4u04srjUR68kq4Gc2CpEF5LnI_yf_TUDbedp9_hjktOTDS7ABLjBKCMlGZjReV2N7HjIqtFgSrw5JhFj-pv9shFyyfSPK/s320/RAWuwei.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading Tarot at Wu Wei Temple - Fairfax, Ca. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<br />
I was riding a magic carpet of "transformation" of my own,
along with the destinies of those who came tiptoeing or storming in for
readings. Together we shaped and co-created futures, rather than
continually correcting the past. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj611j0B40Q85fsRaQCfJKFBkAXA5Dfl1UKav48bxHJCGISzVH9jv_EmJhDaZm9LsB-YtOGu47zOZnBiU6y26B0f7f2Z38fREqs2MtoRp5uPWroNlILff_rRddF9VWDHMVmkO4TyQVjf6E_/s1600/deeremperorsave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj611j0B40Q85fsRaQCfJKFBkAXA5Dfl1UKav48bxHJCGISzVH9jv_EmJhDaZm9LsB-YtOGu47zOZnBiU6y26B0f7f2Z38fREqs2MtoRp5uPWroNlILff_rRddF9VWDHMVmkO4TyQVjf6E_/s200/deeremperorsave.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Emperor - Tesuque, N.M</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
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<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5A-KKXqdvDRVps-0-CuwPLaFdEoEHxBSoRnWwnGTo3m8e7qnshMIU6Kqhz5-81DqUaSWNHQdMmNgplkQPTy0_gKMKrghkd9apyvP4x_X8I5FlmhZAp_4w_53rPl1FN3jO5ZbJOZKE01OA/s1600/KavaWue+Wei.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5A-KKXqdvDRVps-0-CuwPLaFdEoEHxBSoRnWwnGTo3m8e7qnshMIU6Kqhz5-81DqUaSWNHQdMmNgplkQPTy0_gKMKrghkd9apyvP4x_X8I5FlmhZAp_4w_53rPl1FN3jO5ZbJOZKE01OA/s320/KavaWue+Wei.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I Love You All! Overpriced Kava & Chocolate Biscuits</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
I lived & worked in Fairfax for many happy years in a little treehouse on Bolinas Rd. <br />
<br />
It was pretty as a painting up there. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKL9QlktbEQfn72whvUmlYGGlxBloBAIVXbII9VPqAU35EzYVg35162_9EynFd9YchDObO-onZJyX-jRMtkxM4cRa1x8Veipzj15HzfGBQVpgHAE7fD_8FZjhekNyqxXvU9RiXPM3DqMA/s1600/Welch-Cows-Grazing-Road-to-Bolinas-Close-Up_s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKL9QlktbEQfn72whvUmlYGGlxBloBAIVXbII9VPqAU35EzYVg35162_9EynFd9YchDObO-onZJyX-jRMtkxM4cRa1x8Veipzj15HzfGBQVpgHAE7fD_8FZjhekNyqxXvU9RiXPM3DqMA/s400/Welch-Cows-Grazing-Road-to-Bolinas-Close-Up_s.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cows Grazing, Road to Bolinas - Thaddeus Welch, 1844 - 1919</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4srewR9lXwdj8T4CuYwp1yygBELU5EyGsOhHgV3AdUMVIrR1U5AWMH2gzBJ2ZL4UpyAmpbmDtkLlhxJq13amGAduXUzineLfoDZBN9RyWw-j_TrvITMQKZjpFfYt_bMMdpXUbVlOrUcQb/s1600/Fairfax.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4srewR9lXwdj8T4CuYwp1yygBELU5EyGsOhHgV3AdUMVIrR1U5AWMH2gzBJ2ZL4UpyAmpbmDtkLlhxJq13amGAduXUzineLfoDZBN9RyWw-j_TrvITMQKZjpFfYt_bMMdpXUbVlOrUcQb/s320/Fairfax.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fairfax, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And oh, so many years ago, I met Pamela Williams in Fairfax, where we would become fast friends; both dutiful, solid Midwestern gals, with a yearning for poetry and art and not always drawing inside the lines. Who could have predicted, a decade later, we'd be hiking the White Water Canyon in Gila National Forest, reading poems in Silver City, N.M. at a poetry reading put on for us by poet, writer, publisher, Stewart Warren, or that Pamela would come out with her first published book of poems,<i> Hair on Fire</i>, and that I would write a blurb for it, and Arnell Ando, our fairy Godmother and Italy Tarot Tour magician and guide would write the foreword?!!! There's a run on life sentence for you....or that,</div>
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</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KFNQrGbN69CXb7IM0rq3Cgw9uFN9pPvnuBJqfa0G9BFA9hm_kcPY2SsY6U1HyxWnQoADz4MmYfAQ2MCapcc9-OfrlvKa8KnSxPvlfMKFd_sVstczq4-OkSFFw67jrbYwsJGTg4JSUvo-/s320/Silvercity.jpg" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pamela Williams - Silver City</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvNporJlfZ8t9zeoKwYcoyHIH5jh_fjYctxfwih_rTf0DTPvW3F-0u8YGIk2gn7XdTOjjjdpzHrByVJwb5E-T3SU4whHarhXO6bQQqFySImc9EnNORTdMpIOJaUg0Z0LjmXNQmFkwri4x/s1600/Cowgirls+on+the+Catwalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvNporJlfZ8t9zeoKwYcoyHIH5jh_fjYctxfwih_rTf0DTPvW3F-0u8YGIk2gn7XdTOjjjdpzHrByVJwb5E-T3SU4whHarhXO6bQQqFySImc9EnNORTdMpIOJaUg0Z0LjmXNQmFkwri4x/s200/Cowgirls+on+the+Catwalk.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Whitewater Canyon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU0BhWJXQQDRFxyl4lBo04rbAkJhyphenhyphenWvpdrR4IOfNeka_M6tocZh9qwCHwgPvtOWZjSMjzjo4koFTsSllm8rcXTF7MeVO_aAgy9E8OJ_e6qqwr47dAJd0SOLVb6LYaoRQipd5Q_YvsqOQr-/s1600/Haironfire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU0BhWJXQQDRFxyl4lBo04rbAkJhyphenhyphenWvpdrR4IOfNeka_M6tocZh9qwCHwgPvtOWZjSMjzjo4koFTsSllm8rcXTF7MeVO_aAgy9E8OJ_e6qqwr47dAJd0SOLVb6LYaoRQipd5Q_YvsqOQr-/s200/Haironfire.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Available on Amazon!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i>The great function of poetry is to give back to us the
situations of our dreams.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i> </i> Gaston Bachelard, 19th c. philosopher from
"The Poetics of Space."</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpD1nhHxSnCyotYhMLyY9JeMwtjkAsM4bTYxhIftq2NzoiEPeFzPiyo76jHq2zxMkG2G32bNQA3HuRbWbbCcjiMoEtgSV2FlBJuMVwuwiEnsayRPRaE8xL4M84STyyi1H_h7exNs9EfmnL/s1600/PW%2526RA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpD1nhHxSnCyotYhMLyY9JeMwtjkAsM4bTYxhIftq2NzoiEPeFzPiyo76jHq2zxMkG2G32bNQA3HuRbWbbCcjiMoEtgSV2FlBJuMVwuwiEnsayRPRaE8xL4M84STyyi1H_h7exNs9EfmnL/s320/PW%2526RA.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Jennifer's, surrounded by the scent of Art and French cuisine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
... Pamela would introduce me to her dear friend, Jennifer, living in Mill Valley, and Jennifer would prepare us a 5 star french meal along with sharing her wonderful, eclectic art collection.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b class="watch-time-text"></b><br />
<div class="" id="watch-description-text">
<div class="" id="eow-description">
<i> <span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> I
read this book about how some scientists tried to get primates to
paint. For 10 years they worked on it, and nothing happened. Then, one
of the monkeys suddenly began to paint, and what it painted were the
bars of its cage. So, in my writing, I believe I'm painting the bars of
my cage so that I can get out. This is something you have to get done
before you can meaningfully move on in any way.</span> </i> <span style="color: #f9cb9c;">- Ferron</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxncQPmp06kvaWaCk2EI0tukYJPuEJnW0Jsbf31_Qmkjk7Rm1aJgNPg02JUHkURovZDIoBsYz_JS5Tj1LBUB43Kom137W-Do3skUHUdlru6mH52lOuGDM0ZdcY-Gj8MHfAcYuhZU-0NTvV/s1600/The+days+turned+over.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxncQPmp06kvaWaCk2EI0tukYJPuEJnW0Jsbf31_Qmkjk7Rm1aJgNPg02JUHkURovZDIoBsYz_JS5Tj1LBUB43Kom137W-Do3skUHUdlru6mH52lOuGDM0ZdcY-Gj8MHfAcYuhZU-0NTvV/s320/The+days+turned+over.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the Days Turned Over - Pep Carrio</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I crossed the Continental Divide and the Birthday Meridian. Friends made it bearable with birthday cakes and a party put on by Aurora/Dawn, who toted ingredients, spices in her suitcase, all the way from Vallejo to Santa Fe, to make the most delicious concoctions. Canadian friends showed up (always welcome, Canadians!) a psychic and her sister.<br />
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And to my own wise dear seer & soul sister from our "convent" days: Canadian Astrologer, Dale Perigoe, who couldn't be there in the flesh; your Maggie Muggins wore the earrings, blessings and love you sent, with the knowledge we can both get off our knees now - in<i> this </i>lifetime. Wined and dined, I shan't dare whine about aging.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Devil and two Angels</td></tr>
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Alexandra sent a birthday cake! Ruffles (Jeanne Bennion), true Alchemist, Artist, Greek scholar, parfumeure and my conduit to the Gods and Goddesses, sent Hermes & the Lyre & Athena of the Trees, in a Butterfly Box of pure essential oils, with her exquisite artwork and writings. They infused my readings with juju! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joyeux Anniversaire - Tesuque, N.M.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hermes and the Lyre - Jeanne Bennion</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Out of the Darkness - www.alexandraeldridge.com</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Papillon & Birthday Reading - June 6</td></tr>
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All my friends are Alchemists in one way or another <br />
We're all dancing on the Causal Plane together<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rodolphe Ernst - The Perfume Maker - likely 19th c.</td></tr>
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Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage - Anais Nin</div>
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Princess of the Shining Flame </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Princess of Wands - Hard Desire </td></tr>
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I didn't get to see my penpal & friend, Carmen Sorrenti, alchemist, painter, dreamer, astrologer, shape-shifter. She lives in Italy - she's Italian! She's a Princess of Wands like Niki de St. Phalle, both so brave, lion hearted. I wrote an entire section on her and Alchemy, but it vanished in the first wave of Blog Losses. Look for it in Part II, which at the rate I am writing, will be lucky to resurface by Valentine's Day. We share some mystical connections, like Alejandro Jodorowsky. </div>
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Psycho-Magique</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pholarchos Tarot - www.carmensorrenti.com</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daily Alchemy - www.carmensorrenti.com</td></tr>
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Memory is a transcendental function. </div>
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Most readings I never forget, but some are forever recorded on my soul.</div>
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<i>Memories are microscopic. Tiny particles that swarm together </i></div>
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<i>and apart. Little people, Edison called them. Entities. He had a theory</i></div>
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<i>about where they come from and that theory was outer space. </i></div>
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Department of Speculation</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stephanie H. Artist - Tesuque. N.M.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Azima - Sufi, Taoist, Minister - Silver City, N.M.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Agape - Stephanie Howard<i><br /></i></td></tr>
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<i> In 1897, a French doctor named Hippolyte Baraduc conducted a series of photographic experiments. He hoped to prove that the soul does indeed reside in the body and leaves it at the moment of death. He fastened a live pigeon to a board with its wings outstretched then placed a photographic plate on its chest and secured it tightly. As he'd hoped, when he cut the pigeon's throat the plate depicted something. The Soul leaving took the form of curling eddies, he said. Up until the 17th c., it was widely believed that magnets had souls. How else could an object attract or repel</i>? - from Jenny Offill's Department of Speculation<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kathy Evans - Soul Card</td></tr>
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<i>The Buddhists say there are 121 states of consciousness. Of these, only three involve misery or suffering. Most of us spend our time moving back and forth between these three. </i><br />
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Early mornings & evenings I would trek up and down the hill from Judy's house in Mill Valley, thru the custardy fog to do readings at the Good Earth. The fog & relentless thrum of traffic on the GG bridge was not at all like the "little cat's feet on silent haunches" of Sandburg's famous poem. I was happy to be sans car as I watched the commuters, Munchian fueled faces lined with angst & caffeine, crawl along Shoreline Hwy. The Price of Paradise. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4MuaBO_W4STmI-HPd2hQycJxXtOqy44i1tGLadYWix8fd7p-kjSlwRFmWdJJ-Y8yhrxQfvorRPrbF5eRYtMBIDFwJxlCD3VOIOp_LiinbOYUddrKUZL7FHdqggvySXGOmekNPe7ROWe-v/s1600/GGB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4MuaBO_W4STmI-HPd2hQycJxXtOqy44i1tGLadYWix8fd7p-kjSlwRFmWdJJ-Y8yhrxQfvorRPrbF5eRYtMBIDFwJxlCD3VOIOp_LiinbOYUddrKUZL7FHdqggvySXGOmekNPe7ROWe-v/s400/GGB.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Golden Gate Bridge</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3iuVO1tX3Vk16P-c69BMvllhIYsPAJwQ6YLmXjiTzhulk3QbMT59yhHFXaqxzcnobwQkbEGBxnFUin6688kRIFWVCR5M3Y7cosYDDZy-s1d7rQN30NWRwCwvYaBBvnB3Xxp_wwrAd6iOg/s1600/foggy+goldenchains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3iuVO1tX3Vk16P-c69BMvllhIYsPAJwQ6YLmXjiTzhulk3QbMT59yhHFXaqxzcnobwQkbEGBxnFUin6688kRIFWVCR5M3Y7cosYDDZy-s1d7rQN30NWRwCwvYaBBvnB3Xxp_wwrAd6iOg/s320/foggy+goldenchains.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mill Valley, CA</td></tr>
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The Owl & the Pussycat & Kim</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jmVK-jHUgUVpQ88rtolKz7y3Wb1LbSH_-VoEPxAxP6xkIuLhTihRlS7HrE4-eUgzZjJMls88xlqeByBBiOuP_EWRr66zfseN20KIN6vFrXaD6AkJ1KPl9ZJvsbOJjt1py_411FnMnvSq/s1600/wiseowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jmVK-jHUgUVpQ88rtolKz7y3Wb1LbSH_-VoEPxAxP6xkIuLhTihRlS7HrE4-eUgzZjJMls88xlqeByBBiOuP_EWRr66zfseN20KIN6vFrXaD6AkJ1KPl9ZJvsbOJjt1py_411FnMnvSq/s320/wiseowl.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceMTkYU0SkVV7LIW0wnPql2nxXNvlYeaOBxmssTj_-mww1ENpjLmvMV0Wmx3Yy4nooqnO9HGLNrncMTeDQRy7Jxzsv11Ex3P7EX2RPNutuwsPQN-Xg70-Bkxbs4vc1kTn30e7WieTyXJy/s1600/Impasse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjceMTkYU0SkVV7LIW0wnPql2nxXNvlYeaOBxmssTj_-mww1ENpjLmvMV0Wmx3Yy4nooqnO9HGLNrncMTeDQRy7Jxzsv11Ex3P7EX2RPNutuwsPQN-Xg70-Bkxbs4vc1kTn30e7WieTyXJy/s200/Impasse.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mill Valley, CA</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxw7r8BcHXM8TpDgfZ6qldaZFKEYZgdkqo07btkmd0lI9j5je4Pp_qAmA5LZKdEPsiGrgMDyTWuY1stnDw0lYKSDFUz7sKXY1I2WBdV9BTdcw13oc62rYHwaVXi1rayrWMgTj_ygr8zbH/s1600/Cat+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxw7r8BcHXM8TpDgfZ6qldaZFKEYZgdkqo07btkmd0lI9j5je4Pp_qAmA5LZKdEPsiGrgMDyTWuY1stnDw0lYKSDFUz7sKXY1I2WBdV9BTdcw13oc62rYHwaVXi1rayrWMgTj_ygr8zbH/s320/Cat+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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When Kim arrived, we walked up and down the hills together...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBqC3EP-KMtpeEKLb5aDoS-Ebb9Vm9o0AFim9LvSWTiJ3ZNIxucAmnnzXX7koqizpJw4PU45NwblkPBuED_mJDR2H22KfZOhmB2ceiWXMnT-w0me1i-sSP_0P4WjsFaBtOUYgMO7Kw2w7/s1600/Kimwithcar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBqC3EP-KMtpeEKLb5aDoS-Ebb9Vm9o0AFim9LvSWTiJ3ZNIxucAmnnzXX7koqizpJw4PU45NwblkPBuED_mJDR2H22KfZOhmB2ceiWXMnT-w0me1i-sSP_0P4WjsFaBtOUYgMO7Kw2w7/s320/Kimwithcar.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kim Mott with matching car</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDDXrVYy0tTHjMZgGgqXeSfH1yWgCG88JPiQlBdey5ynXK4a0526NQFywWTK7_Yogpt-vAProa-dUXa_8aBgdAIhobHXXAJyOmMRQndEm-mGKHtulxk7ZLQH7V1RY1nrLNfH1S0dRaIVK/s1600/Kim+rubber+ducky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDDXrVYy0tTHjMZgGgqXeSfH1yWgCG88JPiQlBdey5ynXK4a0526NQFywWTK7_Yogpt-vAProa-dUXa_8aBgdAIhobHXXAJyOmMRQndEm-mGKHtulxk7ZLQH7V1RY1nrLNfH1S0dRaIVK/s200/Kim+rubber+ducky.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We found some ducks </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUmqdA2PS28FIPjSTWz61XufvpJJ9UDXWZdUlmCuaq_igoh5avk6CJGr9YRMX8G1_HChyphenhyphenu0J7vcG8J1nOzm9wxAP-2hjJjXr_buWm9wIBCo-cK3XT4LRZlwI8V2bjN7JW2bJkAE0XlpI4/s1600/kimbird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUmqdA2PS28FIPjSTWz61XufvpJJ9UDXWZdUlmCuaq_igoh5avk6CJGr9YRMX8G1_HChyphenhyphenu0J7vcG8J1nOzm9wxAP-2hjJjXr_buWm9wIBCo-cK3XT4LRZlwI8V2bjN7JW2bJkAE0XlpI4/s200/kimbird.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare bird</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuASPO8DCUy6-lDaJ1_pUea6s_O9afEGj_ukyMByJkDUtKZYRUL7qaIw9sxpZkJMM0gMT5sKzQxbWWkqMSgaLdNvFslspFSvC69e6qcAqEPTsIv02MrCkPMvY1aKA2_zTJKWMnd5UWSWuh/s1600/fisherman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuASPO8DCUy6-lDaJ1_pUea6s_O9afEGj_ukyMByJkDUtKZYRUL7qaIw9sxpZkJMM0gMT5sKzQxbWWkqMSgaLdNvFslspFSvC69e6qcAqEPTsIv02MrCkPMvY1aKA2_zTJKWMnd5UWSWuh/s320/fisherman.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the last fishermen in Mill Valley</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJIzmz-sANYerdPBrgllhV9RDBizXyuHfzfk_9t4pq-unwpPWv2GGBuYl_Wvwb9U6_cKe0jK47GykHQy4vE3ZC0IMGJcKyBMT-TgTewEpbwv6HFWcUUzhtoGT2zXkf-5rguhMO_ANebCU/s1600/pullupnotout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJIzmz-sANYerdPBrgllhV9RDBizXyuHfzfk_9t4pq-unwpPWv2GGBuYl_Wvwb9U6_cKe0jK47GykHQy4vE3ZC0IMGJcKyBMT-TgTewEpbwv6HFWcUUzhtoGT2zXkf-5rguhMO_ANebCU/s320/pullupnotout.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kim has a knack for finding useful information</td></tr>
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<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
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Kim's my Buddhist, poet, artist, sandpainting, yogameister, wine sommelier friend, who also lived in Fairfax for many years. She opened up and ran a stellar painting gallery there. She lives in McCall/Boise, ID. now, homesteading and conserving the land and the animals who inhabit it. No matter where we roam, we write to and for each other. We've been in an adhoc writing group together with Mikethustra for around 20+ years. I don't know why they let me in. I'm a dumb blonde. They're both much better writers than I am. Maybe because I have large breasts?! Having Kim for a friend is like having Aladdin's lamp; she makes your wishes come true. (That's how I got the large breasts) - just kidding. <br />
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="highlight" id="0.3488719158601665" name="searchHitInReadingPane">Summer</span> <span class="highlight" id="0.8357526362817259" name="searchHitInReadingPane">Sandals</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">These <span class="highlight" id="0.33267762681420154" name="searchHitInReadingPane">summer</span> brown feet </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">imbrued by sun and field dirt</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">are stick-scratched and</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">scored by slender wild rye;</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">all the while grass-stained.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My favorite <span class="highlight" id="0.37857335468013986" name="searchHitInReadingPane">sandals</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">redolent of gardening sweat</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">are ragged, scuffed</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">and impressed in worn</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">umber toe prints.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My heels are smothered</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">by unwashable earth and </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">thick-calloused cracks </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">that have all just begun to </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">bleed a little.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This smallest havoc</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">always happens</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">at the end of <span class="highlight" id="0.7276635122781061" name="searchHitInReadingPane">summer</span>.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Kim Mott</span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
With no expectations in our pockets we hiked down to the Mill Valley Memorial Day Parade</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwXcwgDdqeHqJ1yE2nlAvRzQLs_tRypDgHWi3e10BpRI0pzfTBzOVtfDKB1NsH9ljKz7ATW7mB6r1IwH9HayDkhSFa-w4E6ScttE20eXNeDHnnxFJ8bRellvjHxPVYOzsA9MpyYZ-p8d4/s1600/Me%2526Kim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwXcwgDdqeHqJ1yE2nlAvRzQLs_tRypDgHWi3e10BpRI0pzfTBzOVtfDKB1NsH9ljKz7ATW7mB6r1IwH9HayDkhSFa-w4E6ScttE20eXNeDHnnxFJ8bRellvjHxPVYOzsA9MpyYZ-p8d4/s320/Me%2526Kim.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parade Ready! Hats compliments of Mikethustra (I got the best one)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_0Fm6VyU_xnGd5Rh3vL42DxiK-qFs5q2Nbc5LFGsIC-a0E53VodOEBq24l80TBWNAE1-acQ62a8l7Plvhyphenhyphen2qvqWT3Pt_CzbnyC-ub9tm965FX4RIp98L4sEepC6pvKzNuSRIG6FaN7ku/s1600/Give+Peace+a+Chance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_0Fm6VyU_xnGd5Rh3vL42DxiK-qFs5q2Nbc5LFGsIC-a0E53VodOEBq24l80TBWNAE1-acQ62a8l7Plvhyphenhyphen2qvqWT3Pt_CzbnyC-ub9tm965FX4RIp98L4sEepC6pvKzNuSRIG6FaN7ku/s320/Give+Peace+a+Chance.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Give Peace a Chance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuua7qmIPlke-B5fW_lFN0NBF9Ol6cKHevxD4phx-s-nC91ULxiRzR8wamy8M7S5WIBdS9Z9DdTvVsp4xNZMXw45MPjt00wXFioecPrl7jJNjzWe-Hl_BC_lB9vRVlEN4jq4lMpl1u6l1F/s1600/Buddha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuua7qmIPlke-B5fW_lFN0NBF9Ol6cKHevxD4phx-s-nC91ULxiRzR8wamy8M7S5WIBdS9Z9DdTvVsp4xNZMXw45MPjt00wXFioecPrl7jJNjzWe-Hl_BC_lB9vRVlEN4jq4lMpl1u6l1F/s320/Buddha.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ghandi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6kH22OiRoZMvwT2eXqtgyroj-u69WbIKDkNf3Hzs44K2GPeeonneW8OX2ikhQ2AwlyHzCWubrJjkRnSlu-BQN4g1_zk5wukJ7jjJzwgzSC1J4hbj7rBTFlKkE2e8vcKFPZdefw1duO8f/s1600/boy+memorial+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6kH22OiRoZMvwT2eXqtgyroj-u69WbIKDkNf3Hzs44K2GPeeonneW8OX2ikhQ2AwlyHzCWubrJjkRnSlu-BQN4g1_zk5wukJ7jjJzwgzSC1J4hbj7rBTFlKkE2e8vcKFPZdefw1duO8f/s320/boy+memorial+day.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8RPvqDRmVP6MJM9KvJf4D19yI2ufRz-2PMbCr5swua8wB0UG9mbzT1V4PnFfrUkSs0Mx3pkYLxGrH8QSNs-zRqjJokt9k0hUvOu3LGQ9R96T6J-QnQHaQ7hkt3iryeJFMXro3x794CIQl/s1600/Tie+dye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8RPvqDRmVP6MJM9KvJf4D19yI2ufRz-2PMbCr5swua8wB0UG9mbzT1V4PnFfrUkSs0Mx3pkYLxGrH8QSNs-zRqjJokt9k0hUvOu3LGQ9R96T6J-QnQHaQ7hkt3iryeJFMXro3x794CIQl/s320/Tie+dye.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmezXaYVqDEfO7Oyk-22MYXBjkS_w1qRXMVKgcFSPakdABVumDPom43s03LDU3qg45JMTo48vQpIl_Jekkv6Db1qL72knw_GZ9_Rbe_E47eVEs8NFlPdD185C1GgNa-qyY5lS-Hi2PBq7/s1600/Scottish+Piper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmezXaYVqDEfO7Oyk-22MYXBjkS_w1qRXMVKgcFSPakdABVumDPom43s03LDU3qg45JMTo48vQpIl_Jekkv6Db1qL72knw_GZ9_Rbe_E47eVEs8NFlPdD185C1GgNa-qyY5lS-Hi2PBq7/s200/Scottish+Piper.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scottish Piper</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1HKL8ylE5HtkrTuvpvrm1QXaVKzPKnTYHNFp-OhhtBWBdoVEFKwboc1AcO0p-VY-LquNKEJfkSApgA6ODvJlXmW_6zNvf2WPyjujDAW2VW9vn13_9asl83Gj1TLHjDn39ov2BVdxsAGfy/s1600/Gumby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1HKL8ylE5HtkrTuvpvrm1QXaVKzPKnTYHNFp-OhhtBWBdoVEFKwboc1AcO0p-VY-LquNKEJfkSApgA6ODvJlXmW_6zNvf2WPyjujDAW2VW9vn13_9asl83Gj1TLHjDn39ov2BVdxsAGfy/s200/Gumby.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gumby</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We were in a time warp - it was as though we had never left. Up in the hills, it was 2020, cyborgs and million dollar homes. Down in the flats, Ghandi held sway with Wavy Gravy, the rainbow & tie dye people, Gumby and Scottish Pipers. It was almost the "Summer of Love" that never was.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Praise the Mutilated World.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Remember Juneâs long days,<br />
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.<br />
The nettles that methodically overgrow<br />
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">You must praise the mutilated world.<br />
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;<br />
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,<br />
while salty oblivion awaited others.<br />
Youâve seen the refugees heading nowhere,<br />
youâve heard the executioners sing joyfully.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">You should praise the mutilated
world.<br />
Remember the moments when we were together<br />
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.<br />
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.<br />
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn<br />
and leaves eddied over the earthâs scars.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Praise the mutilated world<br />
and the gray feather a thrush lost,<br />
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes<br />
and returns.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">âAdam Zagajewski</span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Oh, the ceaseless process of becoming..</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSUNkC2S2C1sNZvPaovZBav2HwIhwaVF0neHdePSGSaOQdLfsSF0GnyIukL2O4sgrSS-16vwrv8wIS8lyc00GNqvf8sw1gwaVsmT1ni2cRq0H5KxjHs9Oeee92qjZtaOl_YPIiz0HCEE5C/s1600/Ceaseless+process+of+becoming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSUNkC2S2C1sNZvPaovZBav2HwIhwaVF0neHdePSGSaOQdLfsSF0GnyIukL2O4sgrSS-16vwrv8wIS8lyc00GNqvf8sw1gwaVsmT1ni2cRq0H5KxjHs9Oeee92qjZtaOl_YPIiz0HCEE5C/s400/Ceaseless+process+of+becoming.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">www.alexandraeldridge.com </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Lending Library (Anam Cara Poem)</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There are volumes and novels,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">poetry sheafs, the coal black crow</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">wings out the window tagging</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">with the billowing wind, some sort of</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">âyouâre itâ thing. You leaned into </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">these gelasins and told me about a</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">boy who every night taped beans in his.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Arrived empty-handed with not much</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">more than a green suitcase;</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I leave these dimples by day</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">to be borrowed from the library.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Little summer tan depressions on the shelf,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">there is no sign out sheet for names,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">time taken, or date stamp -</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">wear them to Eyeries or Mishkish</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">to dimple at the dabbed woolen sheep,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">or to Clauskeyâs pub to dent into stout pint,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">or to the yellow hill church to cup prayer;</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I care not. My only request is</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12px Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">to return them more smiled.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Kim Mott</span></div>
<br />
<br />
Quelle Joie! I got to spend some rare time with Kathy Evans, <i>Imagination Comes to Breakfast</i>, my Waldo Pt. Harbor comrade; our docks within waving distance; we "surfed" the high and low tides of life together, kayaks and caroling, Hip-Hop in San Francisco, daffodil stalking with Wordsworth perched on our shoulders, & walking the desert, Burning Man, jazz till dawn. Kathy of Poets in the Schools, Juvie Hall, UCSF Benioff Children's Hospital. Graphic Recording, the Tingler, Oxygen bar, Cirque de Soleil in Vegas! And the job I almost took at The Grove. I would have seen you everyday Kathy. France has great cheese and wine, but no Kathy to age and mellow with. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOA2vP3ujxyHCxDmbiTlB7lQUtucsd3ov8FtxZxSZxr_c-CqzcV6NfaYRy8fh6ohWdjsuct0_BQ47nGQ92qx-fC1od74fnZdyUYyi01GcrgUIgu8Nn26oddgiawvwwGiABqCkzoLX1W6fQ/s1600/KathyEvans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOA2vP3ujxyHCxDmbiTlB7lQUtucsd3ov8FtxZxSZxr_c-CqzcV6NfaYRy8fh6ohWdjsuct0_BQ47nGQ92qx-fC1od74fnZdyUYyi01GcrgUIgu8Nn26oddgiawvwwGiABqCkzoLX1W6fQ/s320/KathyEvans.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kathy Evans - Teacher, Poet, Word Doctor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3F8IhLn4THnE4lA0dXs9yWQbaGDbYV_67recd5-qsy0uAo_gA8LjbBNjXTsaVJJRLAXHiUygbXJ6oCPivgiiJii7VVYZNyus0iPb2rOuarxl6uPLmBQ74O7G9n1sXPtEVIjLLXh_pSfG/s1600/me%2526+Kathy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu3F8IhLn4THnE4lA0dXs9yWQbaGDbYV_67recd5-qsy0uAo_gA8LjbBNjXTsaVJJRLAXHiUygbXJ6oCPivgiiJii7VVYZNyus0iPb2rOuarxl6uPLmBQ74O7G9n1sXPtEVIjLLXh_pSfG/s200/me%2526+Kathy.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading for Kathy at the Good Earth </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCefXkkUAFsCDY24O8FMaca_BZwcBbj2qQiKuOt_c22wX-e2okjzr-MPxPTlI3GR7KtKdjXFKLF6Q8-DxELLsmM02bfuNW4vppkrjgbIRCUlrtJxJhQH40xKYwxoWgapHws5Hfa6KfFU1Y/s1600/Soul+cardKE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCefXkkUAFsCDY24O8FMaca_BZwcBbj2qQiKuOt_c22wX-e2okjzr-MPxPTlI3GR7KtKdjXFKLF6Q8-DxELLsmM02bfuNW4vppkrjgbIRCUlrtJxJhQH40xKYwxoWgapHws5Hfa6KfFU1Y/s320/Soul+cardKE.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kathy Evans - Soul Card</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> on this voyage</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> sea is voices</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> voices the waves </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> we float on</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> we drift near dreams</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> turning inward</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> under our eyelids</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> it is the depth</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> keeping us afloat</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> Sally Doyle</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivRgtBLS9JN-YvszFoWL5P62_MH1FSVqrBqR8Vv4wNQ78t7Ol4wl4prljlioUJuR6LOVmkKoGdyUVd9WAZYP3EASUt3ZJog9tPz-IwdWBk6cBMJPBJCGed2_CYUv8aCXtk6bxK6DKdb0Gt/s1600/SoulcardK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivRgtBLS9JN-YvszFoWL5P62_MH1FSVqrBqR8Vv4wNQ78t7Ol4wl4prljlioUJuR6LOVmkKoGdyUVd9WAZYP3EASUt3ZJog9tPz-IwdWBk6cBMJPBJCGed2_CYUv8aCXtk6bxK6DKdb0Gt/s320/SoulcardK.jpg" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kathy Evans - Soul Card</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">WISHES</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">I wish my breathing tubes</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">could come alive,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">climb the walls</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">of my hospital room and suck up</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">all the air on the walls.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Then the breathing tubes would</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">jump off off the walls</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">when they were done.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">I wish I could change into a tiger</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">a T-Rex and a tiger shark, and</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">camoflage so I could pinch</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">people passing by on St. Patrick's Day</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">who weren't wearing green.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">I wish I could go into </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">some movies like the monsters</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">in Universe City</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">and Jurassic Park where there are</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">a bunch of new dinosaurs.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">I wish I could fly over the hospital</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">instead of being in bed inside.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> I wish I were Superman,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">the man of steel. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">by Christian </span></div>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">from Floating Near a Dream</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Poems by children at UCSF </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Benioff Children's Hospital </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqMHkNkShNRBY9pR3TW85g-lQd4RJEvlBRyL6GaOJ1YVxhkwJPWCyhCKnc7Te8_J9mXjHHkjtY002ymFF8ipL1N0qDfN2DmD1-yx4Iwom034R_qjWJ1YWlpGeLGNA5vGkPViupQbfSd2O/s1600/My-Soul-Where-Are-you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqMHkNkShNRBY9pR3TW85g-lQd4RJEvlBRyL6GaOJ1YVxhkwJPWCyhCKnc7Te8_J9mXjHHkjtY002ymFF8ipL1N0qDfN2DmD1-yx4Iwom034R_qjWJ1YWlpGeLGNA5vGkPViupQbfSd2O/s320/My-Soul-Where-Are-you.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Soul, Where Are You? www.alexandraeldridge.com</td></tr>
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The Spirit got too close</div>
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Policy documents were requested.</div>
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Nothing came that close. Nothing came out</div>
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The spirit wanted shoes to step from</div>
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lighthouse </div>
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to lighthouse</div>
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but shoes were impossible; the spirit</div>
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flew--</div>
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the Heron,</div>
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the Owl--</div>
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You've seen their wings fan out</div>
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through the trees</div>
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Birds are the intervention</div>
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between worlds</div>
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and music is in between</div>
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what is</div>
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between </div>
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the in between? </div>
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Is death a cycle</div>
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or circle</div>
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it begins when we begin</div>
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Death belongs to the circus of the living</div>
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the trapeze between </div>
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the two sides of air</div>
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Kathy Evans - excerpt </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmMEwcJ_jPCfF3xu9TNvgMTyp9FZqmyB-3Fcry-xgSVn8RZ8OFfbU9vDaaohCheg6iL7KzWDO_ypfxVI4bPoAWTjjgfPzzgjl60Nx5-WKGDIHevctiykAuVWNwJSHAODDev7riCQKZMMj/s1600/Mimbres_Bowl_with_turkeys_and_centipede_DMA_1988-99-FA+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmMEwcJ_jPCfF3xu9TNvgMTyp9FZqmyB-3Fcry-xgSVn8RZ8OFfbU9vDaaohCheg6iL7KzWDO_ypfxVI4bPoAWTjjgfPzzgjl60Nx5-WKGDIHevctiykAuVWNwJSHAODDev7riCQKZMMj/s320/Mimbres_Bowl_with_turkeys_and_centipede_DMA_1988-99-FA+%25282%2529.jpg" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mimbres Bowl with Wild Turkeys & Centipede - Silver City, N.M.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSOvOt77lebluQtuqYe744iog65YShx9kmdIQqAWpeVfqIodvpdDYbkBm6AGkr5h4tCSXrGd-YIDZhkOBM16Vm7q7kFMENHm7TcxxlZ8nDUEihSa95E_aTqTSOD5BfK5GLRUQ7inwzxJC/s1600/Bird+with+a+message.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSOvOt77lebluQtuqYe744iog65YShx9kmdIQqAWpeVfqIodvpdDYbkBm6AGkr5h4tCSXrGd-YIDZhkOBM16Vm7q7kFMENHm7TcxxlZ8nDUEihSa95E_aTqTSOD5BfK5GLRUQ7inwzxJC/s320/Bird+with+a+message.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bird with a message - www.alexandraeldridge.com</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkSTI3NlMvIWxT_l52mAHJPbnZGM-rGIwqYnL11hW-TRnu9b6sKccyCt-ZguB5rVOXuogLk_DP3-xz7lMvaW3TGBhZY5kjDiY4GYVUO995mosEwogdl5WDLJM3jjYaAZPpXMQQT_CAS8I/s1600/RAjanwalker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkSTI3NlMvIWxT_l52mAHJPbnZGM-rGIwqYnL11hW-TRnu9b6sKccyCt-ZguB5rVOXuogLk_DP3-xz7lMvaW3TGBhZY5kjDiY4GYVUO995mosEwogdl5WDLJM3jjYaAZPpXMQQT_CAS8I/s200/RAjanwalker.jpg" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading for Jan Walker - Good Earth</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX56C5_ujNUiYI30i3d9HuvUms-pm2kcttnmnjzxBxzBbpcUSwDborXVjt0rZjv_jJJRw5lmgOe3rPgIUswTBbQGLEWNDHj3_K_eU7jcz3IDO01Vy3NqC3h6bsqPopMJctKYQAt4nOPCvw/s1600/Victoria+celtic+queen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX56C5_ujNUiYI30i3d9HuvUms-pm2kcttnmnjzxBxzBbpcUSwDborXVjt0rZjv_jJJRw5lmgOe3rPgIUswTBbQGLEWNDHj3_K_eU7jcz3IDO01Vy3NqC3h6bsqPopMJctKYQAt4nOPCvw/s320/Victoria+celtic+queen.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good Earth with Victoria, Celtic Queen</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> Vasu/Liisa showed up in her voiture de soleil, and we swanned around in a Blue Dream. She whisked me all over the place from the Dollar store in San Rafael to get some much needed readers, to Target, where I bought a bubble machine to bring back to France for some fantasy bubble blowing when I do readings at the French Expos and Markets, to a Medical Cannabis dispensary in Cotati to see what that landscape looks like now after the laws changed, to some of my favorite haunts in the woods, the beach, and Pt. Reyes, where I lived for around four years, riding horses and consorting with cowboys. (I had to give up the bubble machine to a more appropriately aged child, since it didn't fit into my suitcase). </span></div>
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<img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWZZYokvXJGJcIV9I6WLhY_Mieh2ult7kVEYGKDkjLyjKsDQ1ZfTqMhREsvbUgxfd53UhoOKMzKPzxe5sJ8_RBB7hzKaR1yH1z_pb4X1OCNjUqTH8j3Us30QOrsrhL0TiHfmTD_UlJd01/s200/licenseplateLisa.jpg" width="200" /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5wsxcYDP02gLlrnDF50WIGBZ5gDKAbq1SUQargNDqjYuMoNe1Eq2jUUq3HdSyQJd3DTgHVVMt7zUAveWVlpCScJT5UytlmIVjZINhOQJrdrf1ZE7X0UYYphMw4U3E9sQ7hIHlKYLjlU7/s1600/Limantourlisa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5wsxcYDP02gLlrnDF50WIGBZ5gDKAbq1SUQargNDqjYuMoNe1Eq2jUUq3HdSyQJd3DTgHVVMt7zUAveWVlpCScJT5UytlmIVjZINhOQJrdrf1ZE7X0UYYphMw4U3E9sQ7hIHlKYLjlU7/s320/Limantourlisa.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liisa/Vasu (Yes, her name has 2 i's)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYLhre5o9ovtmdDjIFg4Mkj8tK5Mwzh7y0IlHBF1hUolL4r12ICHCTm4GbnK-kQIkA96wVDQcL3WevW03OVu8tLpV0UYTSANMSDGcLcBJ2x3NgnOTecN2FPR1L4LrF_bonSBMH5RnocOc/s1600/RAlimantour2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYLhre5o9ovtmdDjIFg4Mkj8tK5Mwzh7y0IlHBF1hUolL4r12ICHCTm4GbnK-kQIkA96wVDQcL3WevW03OVu8tLpV0UYTSANMSDGcLcBJ2x3NgnOTecN2FPR1L4LrF_bonSBMH5RnocOc/s200/RAlimantour2.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAAcujLsmaK018QN7QwadwbuFjQOnwKZyeOJQ0lZSztwJFtzTnmaFI7lukOxngaG8FSomxSTXLMDcakmVi1d6ezDPSFLWV8MYwbEXN-NPhGjRMTjmMsQxk7SjgA89t5Bu7XF81Gcjzi47I/s1600/lisabluedream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAAcujLsmaK018QN7QwadwbuFjQOnwKZyeOJQ0lZSztwJFtzTnmaFI7lukOxngaG8FSomxSTXLMDcakmVi1d6ezDPSFLWV8MYwbEXN-NPhGjRMTjmMsQxk7SjgA89t5Bu7XF81Gcjzi47I/s200/lisabluedream.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beloved Limantour Beach, Pt. Reyes Station</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With the Sequoias in a Blue Dream</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> Liisa and I go way back, so much history, but not so many parallels. We worked together for Shen Foundation, East Meets West, the best of Chinese and Western medicine, where Liisa was on the forefront of discovery; presenting workshops/seminars/research grants for alternative medicine, Shamanic Medicine and good old Traditional Medicine with a side dish of psychics and channels. Liisa brought the latest and greatest of cutting edge peeps thru the portals of Shen Foundation/Fairfax and beyond. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> She had her bonafides after being a side kick to Ram Dass from the very earliest Indian ragas. But more than that, we both fervently believe we are the architects of our own reality. Once we camped at the foot of Mt. Shasta and fought off the bears together. Remember, Liisa? And sharing doobies in Gloucester with your Dad, Russell before he died? It was the last time we both saw him alive. We three went to the House of Seven Gables in Salem.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> My respect for you went over the moon. I saw how you honored him; held the portal open for him as he stepped thru with dignity, and the grace accorded a Celtic Warrior. And the irony of the theme of Hawthorne's book, House of..<i>.</i></span><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i>the wrong-doing of one generation lives into the successive ones,
and . . . becomes a pure and uncontrollable mischief. </i> Russell loved that. You're a mick off the old block, O'Maley. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> And also good at all the things I'm not, like geography and organizing anything and everything. Even got our money back when we got sucked into that Airplane game donkeys years ago. I'm in Awe. Liisa's a psychic entitity. A Pisces born in a Leap Year - no wonder! Tickety boo - Thank you for everything Vasu!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RULifftz_HRgV0P6Z6WH2xYiIDZbJHyIGEZLHVgJ2EOIGlwT0_ENLqGtCR0lOtOLedOjBFeICQfJx9QhYF2C6ZEoWNpeQrT4VZYDUFlt5n0bVLHYChxFQwD-oQCNK2T8tj4S4AgrvK2Y/s1600/Rick+Stevens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RULifftz_HRgV0P6Z6WH2xYiIDZbJHyIGEZLHVgJ2EOIGlwT0_ENLqGtCR0lOtOLedOjBFeICQfJx9QhYF2C6ZEoWNpeQrT4VZYDUFlt5n0bVLHYChxFQwD-oQCNK2T8tj4S4AgrvK2Y/s320/Rick+Stevens.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rick Stevens - Psychic Entity - Santa Fe, N.M.</td></tr>
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Enter, my beloved brother Mark - Scary smart, Sci-Fi, Fantasy writer, author of <i>Palace</i> and <i>Eyes of God</i>; poet, editor, scholar, funny & wise. He's my compass rose, my north star, my loyal champion, and he makes me laugh harder than anyone. We walked together to the sea, entered the Tennessee Valley Portal...said all the things we needed to say. We were the only ones on the beach that day except for one woman creating a labyrinth. That in itself was a miracle!</div>
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<i>Life is a constant hallucination </i>- Laurie Anderson</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxGYQ_Aaa8NjAu1XzsKhOnOTZEx2KPwbkqofJzWKOK6uMrpu9Ehy9lXczg1DQk38GaQibv2l6rfjenmJgFayWph8iev0Np0bPf9v96eBhtSJKem2MY3cMxVwrFswsdoSu8OB9PdHwFtaBE/s1600/heartofadog.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxGYQ_Aaa8NjAu1XzsKhOnOTZEx2KPwbkqofJzWKOK6uMrpu9Ehy9lXczg1DQk38GaQibv2l6rfjenmJgFayWph8iev0Np0bPf9v96eBhtSJKem2MY3cMxVwrFswsdoSu8OB9PdHwFtaBE/s400/heartofadog.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The House of Eternal Return - Meow Wolf, Santa Fe, N.M.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSVxmV6XJy40kt3ZbnVjUZw-tWmetFKUDkHednkjCnXHN-WtfBwLjxGW7p4OW4dFOa8_duPvJh8UF_MoR6zJPH8ONVOy4SPjDNsPaaJWtOdyYLXbk4NrT7xvW0kLFc9NIUpx9w3hNaLGxN/s1600/MarkTV3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSVxmV6XJy40kt3ZbnVjUZw-tWmetFKUDkHednkjCnXHN-WtfBwLjxGW7p4OW4dFOa8_duPvJh8UF_MoR6zJPH8ONVOy4SPjDNsPaaJWtOdyYLXbk4NrT7xvW0kLFc9NIUpx9w3hNaLGxN/s320/MarkTV3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark - Tennessee Valley</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_AJpjGKBPfH8DaLORLG5d99fBiPMe4kq-vbHymyQ_IDtWAP1BueBeXYvRGYmjwH7AKsv8Kj0u2siVmx4ZfD0Q_2FILkWAE8zhvvnn6JGwFzLUVBBt19KSXC0qKHF8pSJ5XHKmXVX_XOj/s1600/Markkelp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik_AJpjGKBPfH8DaLORLG5d99fBiPMe4kq-vbHymyQ_IDtWAP1BueBeXYvRGYmjwH7AKsv8Kj0u2siVmx4ZfD0Q_2FILkWAE8zhvvnn6JGwFzLUVBBt19KSXC0qKHF8pSJ5XHKmXVX_XOj/s320/Markkelp.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kelp - An endless source of fun</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizjD3fHfwCVhJnqofWxAXPdqTua8MiaujZSTXJJISwDepwY5hpGAk7RcYKEXFF2tyrYz2aYbCqrsH5ndKSCQ65oEZsqsle4XPXSORm6Qmd0PslhKY_4LArE-2juagfKPk-2pGmy9swpk50/s1600/Dreaming+way+Lenormand+Dog+Lynn+Araujo+Kwon+Shina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizjD3fHfwCVhJnqofWxAXPdqTua8MiaujZSTXJJISwDepwY5hpGAk7RcYKEXFF2tyrYz2aYbCqrsH5ndKSCQ65oEZsqsle4XPXSORm6Qmd0PslhKY_4LArE-2juagfKPk-2pGmy9swpk50/s320/Dreaming+way+Lenormand+Dog+Lynn+Araujo+Kwon+Shina.jpg" width="186" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dreaming Way Lenormand </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sponge Bob's favorite breakfast cereal</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
I WANT TO LIVE</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want to live where the light is good and the</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
food is slow.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want to live under warm rain and</div>
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I want to </div>
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walk when it is</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
cold out and</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
breath is</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
revealed.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want to feel the</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
wind, strong and full of the joy of</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
whirling and whipping and whistling and</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
whining and rearranging the</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
world. I have no</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
wish for a mere</div>
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flirtation with the Earth's</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
turning.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want to sing in the shower.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want to caress marble.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want to pick apples.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want to whistle and be</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
wise.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want you and your</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
will and your wit and your</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
want.</div>
</div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mark Kreighbaum</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPo5qT4yk2QeKUuQfERXTvsRY7MjUohRuqlrwnPJ0kVilKd9XQgJZ1yHk_tHRaZvCwuk74lTZe42eR0wNzgYpmAwPT7xpsTvZCmDFEuKo0Z6M5Q-17CIveFMe8KqC58HjFNAi0k8pyzF3/s1600/Mark%2526I.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPo5qT4yk2QeKUuQfERXTvsRY7MjUohRuqlrwnPJ0kVilKd9XQgJZ1yHk_tHRaZvCwuk74lTZe42eR0wNzgYpmAwPT7xpsTvZCmDFEuKo0Z6M5Q-17CIveFMe8KqC58HjFNAi0k8pyzF3/s200/Mark%2526I.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNv_09X6El0l99OH5cBNHsGJ_NZ8G6LNwrdI7qvTIb5E_tgjGu1ugkjGsw59t2_Rk2EFLO5m1I1SDqMJTGGUFdmMy3GNKXG7aFhImmK5AhpOX5CEs1vE9bA_md99-0Qo9o7F8NralK55f/s1600/labyrinthgirlTV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNv_09X6El0l99OH5cBNHsGJ_NZ8G6LNwrdI7qvTIb5E_tgjGu1ugkjGsw59t2_Rk2EFLO5m1I1SDqMJTGGUFdmMy3GNKXG7aFhImmK5AhpOX5CEs1vE9bA_md99-0Qo9o7F8NralK55f/s400/labyrinthgirlTV.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woman - Labyrinth, Tennessee Valley</td></tr>
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<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">VIA NEGATIVA</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Walking in Tennessee Valley</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">past algae filled ditches,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">two boys plunging sticks into the muck</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">"killing frogs and spiders."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">I ask them why they want to kill</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">the spiders and frogs</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">and they say "they have no purpose"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">so I ask them what their purpose is?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">and they just say: "we are people;</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">we are important."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Then I remember a story I read about</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">an arctic tribe that believes all things</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">on earth have a soul that exists in</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">miniature form of the body that holds it</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">like a deer with a tiny deer inside it,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">so when the large being dies,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">the tiny form lives on and can slide</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">into other forms like the belly</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">of a great feminine spirit</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">where it waits</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">until the moon can send it back to earth.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">R.A. Martin</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwHLmLWKXzBGd5TJf3wUfCGA6jAqnacfAaaG1kt6_Y4WnA3Wbb7LRATp1UA9tzFpRwRSagxENhKnMgAktefEgBOoXGCNeQlMO9egHiN0T7CawF6wIpTPPNHLtW9aKt0Knyc3YT6JbVix9/s1600/T.V..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwHLmLWKXzBGd5TJf3wUfCGA6jAqnacfAaaG1kt6_Y4WnA3Wbb7LRATp1UA9tzFpRwRSagxENhKnMgAktefEgBOoXGCNeQlMO9egHiN0T7CawF6wIpTPPNHLtW9aKt0Knyc3YT6JbVix9/s320/T.V..jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tennessee Valley Road past algae filled ditches</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCFhVFTbH7rInnayUIuO6idpwf7hhT_7sYQshbRH3QY3tqh_hnCm0NQ6F-P1AtQt4YPV0yotr_MRD09D9YGxWj64Ac6bgfCxRBp_BmlU9PkDh78kev_Hz3PU2HIwSsuzfvnZj1GsTeHfW/s1600/Deer+T.V..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSCFhVFTbH7rInnayUIuO6idpwf7hhT_7sYQshbRH3QY3tqh_hnCm0NQ6F-P1AtQt4YPV0yotr_MRD09D9YGxWj64Ac6bgfCxRBp_BmlU9PkDh78kev_Hz3PU2HIwSsuzfvnZj1GsTeHfW/s200/Deer+T.V..jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deer - Tennessee Valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Belongings</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">When she died, we were mute, not</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">enemies, but images, and a few</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">faulty memories like a blurred</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">kaleidoscope.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">I remember meat loaf and tuna noodle casserole</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">and Christmas ornaments, Johnny Cash and</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Mickey Spillane. I remember</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">a spelling bee she helped me with.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">I remember that she sometimes liked games.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Aggravation and Kings-in-the-Corner,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">cribbage and Life.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">I remember the stick shift Vega she taught me how to drive.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Also, Tom Collins and being beaten with a</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">belt for being stubborn, or stupid, or only a</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">child. And I remember no parents when I</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">graduated and not even wondering at that </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">absence.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">And I remember Round Lake</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">frozen like the heart of my </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">mother. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">And how I wished that I were a </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">changeling.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">When she died, she left me no word or</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">image, no true memory, no</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">belongings, save her</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">love of squaring debts, and a lifelong</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">ledger, which I see in my mind as all in her hand</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">blue ink</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">and regret.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">But she also left me a sister who loved me. And</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">therefore, all debts are</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">paid. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Mark Kreighbaum</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><i></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<i>You would not have called to me unless I had been calling to you</i>. - C.S. Lewis, Aslan to Jill in The Silver Chair</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
YEAR OF MERCY </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht1WcL0lzYPyiiDHzVnjiIkCd1GxEo368znm_ltlTbb0hhn5WUvgkWDvw5Ab-vE-EJWKXxM5xMtddUH1ApMEEJmvsnPVF-FguMw4kBsSOMlg7ZyIgcHSmy9Rc28qtKBfuO6U6v0KmHqxUr/s1600/St.+Francis3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht1WcL0lzYPyiiDHzVnjiIkCd1GxEo368znm_ltlTbb0hhn5WUvgkWDvw5Ab-vE-EJWKXxM5xMtddUH1ApMEEJmvsnPVF-FguMw4kBsSOMlg7ZyIgcHSmy9Rc28qtKBfuO6U6v0KmHqxUr/s320/St.+Francis3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St.Francis - Cathedral Basilica - Santa Fe, N.M.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWqLrOBZtHYK5PgSrCyan6r-GXiWiJnwnjcoMFdWL81X38-HzxwvpxtfKOdHRzYuG90G69mYteFNR8Esqq5WJ4zWF2_3OeOkGfk5yo1gzkjJ9jZtwcsrW_KvlGfLsjmdAM48IqVUMLyIa/s1600/St.+Francis2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWqLrOBZtHYK5PgSrCyan6r-GXiWiJnwnjcoMFdWL81X38-HzxwvpxtfKOdHRzYuG90G69mYteFNR8Esqq5WJ4zWF2_3OeOkGfk5yo1gzkjJ9jZtwcsrW_KvlGfLsjmdAM48IqVUMLyIa/s320/St.+Francis2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Francis, Ditto</td></tr>
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I think it was from the</div>
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animals</div>
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that St. Francis learned</div>
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it is possible to cast yourself</div>
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on the earth's good mercy </div>
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and live.</div>
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Jane Hirschfield </div>
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The first person I met in Santa Fe was St. Francis, the third was Jesus. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQvPwXoosSSoknpL9-jjfL40H3fcUwxT_GRhtRlbaDxgjETOO9Ohw54SFAwYwm3Wa-31nosQcA3n6yefQmhRIv2snHRBGlMt1mIA5GFY5KXwhaDE-ukVD5lD6m9ip2ETntetOMpaTFWkI/s1600/Jesusdappled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQvPwXoosSSoknpL9-jjfL40H3fcUwxT_GRhtRlbaDxgjETOO9Ohw54SFAwYwm3Wa-31nosQcA3n6yefQmhRIv2snHRBGlMt1mIA5GFY5KXwhaDE-ukVD5lD6m9ip2ETntetOMpaTFWkI/s320/Jesusdappled.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jesus - Santa Fe, Chez Mamou</td></tr>
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Aurora dropped me off at the Basilica, and I set forth to find the Tune-Up Cafe, which had been recommended to me by reliable sources. I was so looking forward to some Huevos and Mexican coffee. As good as they be, I'm burned out on Cafe au Laits and Croissants! In dawn's light, just breaking, I walked along the immaculate Santa Fe streets, just stirring, <span class="frame_textColl" id="ctl00_cC_ucResPM_p1" style="padding: 0px !important;"><span id="ctl00_cC_ucResPM_rptComments_ctl01_lblComment" title="lécher les vitrines"><i>lécher les vitrines</i> (licking the windows - "window shopping" in french). I love a city when it's just waking up, in its own reverie, still a little sleepy and slow. </span></span><br />
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<span class="frame_textColl" id="ctl00_cC_ucResPM_p1" style="padding: 0px !important;"><span id="ctl00_cC_ucResPM_rptComments_ctl01_lblComment" title="lécher les vitrines"> Art and beauty <i>partout</i>-everywhere! but I had to get some coffee! I stopped and asked directions at a parking garage that looked like an entry to a designer store. Kind and gracious, the attendant was like a host for an art opening. He pulled out a colorful, local map (which I still have), got out his I-phone (which I don't have) & placed me right at the Tune-up Cafe. As I left the garage, I made a note that I could actually live there, if necessary. Just bring a sleeping bag into one of the cozy parking stalls.</span></span><br />
<span class="frame_textColl" id="ctl00_cC_ucResPM_p1" style="padding: 0px !important;"><span id="ctl00_cC_ucResPM_rptComments_ctl01_lblComment" title="lécher les vitrines"><br /></span></span>
<span class="frame_textColl" id="ctl00_cC_ucResPM_p1" style="padding: 0px !important;"><span id="ctl00_cC_ucResPM_rptComments_ctl01_lblComment" title="lécher les vitrines">Next, I got lost, <i>because I always do</i>: geographcally dyslexic. On my way to being lost, I walked two miles and passed three french cafes! The handwriting was on the wall. No huevos for me! The siren call of Chez Mamou coincided with the call of caffeine. </span></span><br />
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I settled into a sweet table in the tree-limned, side courtyard, which had the authentic air of a French Cafe in Paris, but without all the noise and exhaust fumes. Tranquility personified, I could work on a reading I was doing for a friend. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbpJV3RuGjt7kPqSxGZfrDr0zVCun18-GroaTbNQ7cfSCnOKvO-ouoSoR2WzgJKu6rqi813P5MwYAQturseNMLlDt2iqHOLuzfblV6tO1odmSie_AVXxVrkV2A8d9lZHbIRGqxnshKya_/s1600/coffee%2526croissant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlbpJV3RuGjt7kPqSxGZfrDr0zVCun18-GroaTbNQ7cfSCnOKvO-ouoSoR2WzgJKu6rqi813P5MwYAQturseNMLlDt2iqHOLuzfblV6tO1odmSie_AVXxVrkV2A8d9lZHbIRGqxnshKya_/s320/coffee%2526croissant.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I was in Heaven (with coffee). And then along came Jesus, sweeping the path alongside me. He stopped and stared at the cards with the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen. I asked him if he was interested in the cards. Guess what? He spoke no English or French, and I spoke no Spanish, but somehow I gleaned that he did numerology & was interested in the esoteric arts. If only my friend Dottie was there with her fluent French and Spanish. All would be revealed in the time it takes to say: <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="es"><span class="">Te entiendo...</span></span><br />
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But we muddled along, I figured out he was from Colombia and wanted to go to Miami; using hilarious hand signals, I asked him if he wanted a reading. He did, AND he wanted to do a numerology reading for me. This was obviously beyond our linguistic compatabilities; but then central casting sent in the proprietere, the Chef, a lovely man, (who'd been staring at us from behind a palm tree) speaking fluent French and Spanish (but then he would be, wouldn't he, running Chez Mamou?!). Tres gentille, our interpreter. <br />
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What the cards told me, and what I told Jesus is between he, and me, and God. What Jesus told me (through Monsieur R.), was that he had met a lot of people in his young/old life, and some were good on the outside, some were good on the inside, but I was one of the only ones who's inside matched the outside. Well, I'm crying now as I write this, because it was one of the most profound blessings I've ever received. It truly was the "Year of Mercy." And I can see Jesus from here, Salsa dancing the night away at Cuba Ocho, Little Havana, in Miami.<br />
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Okay, Odin is really getting angry again, the suitcase way overstuffed! But hey, most of it is photos and poems; one can zippety do dah past all the text, like a comic book. I could keep going, as this is just the beginning, but my brother, thank Dieu, reminded me of the "Rule of Three," which in writing says things are funnier, more satisfying, and effective when they come in threes. There is also a Wicca three-fold law that states, whatever energy you put in the world, positive or negative, will come back three times. I hope this has been a positive experience for those reading my words, because they'll be two more parts (Jesus willing) to follow. Blessings to you all as we launch ourselves into this exquisite and terrifying year ahead.<br />
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<i>In the evening of life, we will be judged on love alone.</i> St. John of the Cross</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Book with Wings - Anselm Kiefer</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">God speaks to each of us as he makes us,</span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">then walks with us silently out of the night.</span></blockquote>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">These are the words we dimly hear: </span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">You, sent out beyond your recall,</span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">go to the limits of your longing.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Embody me. </span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Flare up like a flame</span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">and make big shadows I can move in.</span></blockquote>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Just keep going. No feeling is final.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Don't let yourself lose me.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Nearby is the country they call life.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">You will know it by its seriousness. </span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Give me your hand</span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">(Rilkeâs Book of Hours: Love Poems
to God, translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy)</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ_ugXI8VBm1BlDQY_1_kgvbkgVDEZBP7dsqSfmFXYUnIpaTgJ9nFZWoB2p9QPGNFIw-yAEhM2zy39szeeqWZpqDYw2UgvSuOol-Ysu2YC4kYF9XMGd73jWYO-ETXjzjSL3iSF4CZllyuQ/s1600/Stone+and+hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ_ugXI8VBm1BlDQY_1_kgvbkgVDEZBP7dsqSfmFXYUnIpaTgJ9nFZWoB2p9QPGNFIw-yAEhM2zy39szeeqWZpqDYw2UgvSuOol-Ysu2YC4kYF9XMGd73jWYO-ETXjzjSL3iSF4CZllyuQ/s320/Stone+and+hand.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charras, France</td></tr>
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Next time: Part II - Mysticism for Beginners, a Trip to the Desert, a visit to Lisa de St. Croix's (my Italy tarot tour roomie) Santa Fe Studio, Poetry Reading in Silver City (Abcedarian poem, 16 pages, I bet you can't wait!) and more Alchemy...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJqztab5hx7u0ooWYjKw4sLVzPe7upqSEfAj9eBH0E7dGryuGDiYDaPKdOSXJob2AL6ysLfOiLXh5AC97GyThtfT3dHaDSd6MZSct81sSJR3Z3gpJ_46L311vujhKhD2de3WrTwGlEQYq3/s1600/Stewart+Warren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJqztab5hx7u0ooWYjKw4sLVzPe7upqSEfAj9eBH0E7dGryuGDiYDaPKdOSXJob2AL6ysLfOiLXh5AC97GyThtfT3dHaDSd6MZSct81sSJR3Z3gpJ_46L311vujhKhD2de3WrTwGlEQYq3/s320/Stewart+Warren.jpg" width="199" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silver City, N.M. - Poetry Reading</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">In our earthly house, windows are replaced by mirrors, the door; until a given time is closed; but air comes in through the cracks. from the Gift, "Pale Fire: The Magic of Artistic Discovery" - Vladamir Nobokov</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Worn out Glove - Charras, France</td></tr>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-86223903064908581732016-05-16T21:23:00.000-07:002016-05-17T05:01:09.831-07:00THE DESIRE OF STARS & The Art of Silence<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>We should write as we dream </i> - Helene Cixous</span><br />
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>And all the powers of the stars are the fountain veins of the natural body of God in this world</i> - Jakob Bohme (1575-1624) </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d;">Glastonbury - A Portal, a Vortex thru to Forever</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8;"><i>Pathway to Gifts</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8;"><i> When my soul turned round,<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> perceiving the other-side of everything...<br /> - H.D.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8;"><i> Whispers wake me.<br /> I return home<br /> behind a procession of swans<br /> to an island in the heart of Paris.<br /> On the cliffs where the wild ones come<br /> to show themselves,<br /> I sing this whistling song,<br /> look at the other side of the world<br /> as if a deck of cards spread out<br /> to peek under and flip over<br /> for a glimpse at the hidden side.<br /> The dream opens forgotten realms of creation.<br /> I think thatâs what time is.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #93c47d;">© HélÚne Cardona, from</span><br />
<span style="color: #93c47d;"><i>Dreaming My Animal Selves </i>- Salmon Poetry, 2013</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67KMFE8RbY4LncLaSsh1JGJMOtAVUqsdMbkfOUwA9-q_IfRZeed5Ku9Ofe-A5kHM6g8bYDZyZdyeb8bTJhErE-HuwI2atw7voN4GCLwDfx4kxc1rfUenXWh-lwMEwgC_Dzr4z234hnIh-/s1600/reading+at+a+Dolmen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67KMFE8RbY4LncLaSsh1JGJMOtAVUqsdMbkfOUwA9-q_IfRZeed5Ku9Ofe-A5kHM6g8bYDZyZdyeb8bTJhErE-HuwI2atw7voN4GCLwDfx4kxc1rfUenXWh-lwMEwgC_Dzr4z234hnIh-/s400/reading+at+a+Dolmen.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #93c47d;">Karmic Key of Destiny - Reading at a Dolmen in the Dordogne</span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHJO-5g_ssUpkx7AkeJFuf4mRejuLjuj83HI2W9Ido9CbEQKn_QxZo1bCzYoBnl7ntvaJfc13bLA7g1t6-REBBM18IC-rgvLa0ilUP84dVav01Scwr1DGOH1xBxRfLzoKn60NjE8MwyQT/s1600/Bird+on+foot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHJO-5g_ssUpkx7AkeJFuf4mRejuLjuj83HI2W9Ido9CbEQKn_QxZo1bCzYoBnl7ntvaJfc13bLA7g1t6-REBBM18IC-rgvLa0ilUP84dVav01Scwr1DGOH1xBxRfLzoKn60NjE8MwyQT/s320/Bird+on+foot.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bird in "foot" - Better than one in hand?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i>Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast</i>. Lewis Carroll</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">The early morning hours are always the best time for writing. I woke up this morning at 4 a.m. and the birds were already engaged in their birdy business, singing as they went about their ablutions in the bird bath at "Lady" Sara's across the way - A chorus of Mourning doves were coo cooing, and an Owl, who who-ing. Now it's 6 a.m., and the sky looks like grey tapioca. Who likes tapioca? I sort of do, but only if someone else makes it and puts maple syrup and nuts in it. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGmJNVMpfc35CbZxrjvqGholFxMno0sPLLJ_KJdd5XcqULMZN1phPMPOUE_YRCJIj9HBT0JNE8krDigWdM88N75QCPj3_NLuD3FVk1FV0yTficgFj10Z5GCQ6XNPHdj4-OHUTZWbbDwZx/s1600/Birds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGmJNVMpfc35CbZxrjvqGholFxMno0sPLLJ_KJdd5XcqULMZN1phPMPOUE_YRCJIj9HBT0JNE8krDigWdM88N75QCPj3_NLuD3FVk1FV0yTficgFj10Z5GCQ6XNPHdj4-OHUTZWbbDwZx/s200/Birds.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quiet birds down the road</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPG0rFqWY9BjGXYtU8JomxFwqz1ndWIb7AeQ72GY_tz3rrv0Zctwea0CD0tbK45l-6fjZdaTZTrXitKHfWEK2X2TcgnBhi34FszzWVWVql7LTUFY35KW_ptcbxlDrwppSOncAQ_Akbqgh9/s1600/tapioca+sky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPG0rFqWY9BjGXYtU8JomxFwqz1ndWIb7AeQ72GY_tz3rrv0Zctwea0CD0tbK45l-6fjZdaTZTrXitKHfWEK2X2TcgnBhi34FszzWVWVql7LTUFY35KW_ptcbxlDrwppSOncAQ_Akbqgh9/s320/tapioca+sky.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chateau de Charras - Early Birds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I've just jettisoned the totale of the latest blog and photos. I had been working on it for weeks, months it seemed. Tomorrow, at the crack, I head to California & Santa Fe, New Mexico for 5 weeks. I had so wanted this last blog, before I left, to be like a "shooting star", chock full of Truth and Beauty...a cosmic tour de force! Instead it was like a Puff Adder: normally a sluggish species, relying on camouflage for protection, but when disturbed, hissing loudly and continuously. Puff, Puff, Puff.<br />
<br />
I had been feverishly researching everything about STARS, along with having saved reams of poems which starred STARS. I was hoovering up information like a champ. What a lineup I had, Ted Hughes's "Thought Fox" from "The Hawk in the Rain," out in front; here's a snippet:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i> </i><i><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG17gM-EE6qFHUK0B7e9rwi3tTJw4K14-sG10LTdhDpWZMWJcNSCspCsTEk-mjRudJDRAX1Ho-0RIQQdjZkXipURA9T0T-PTcrjK07D-dvdy_gu6SW30hpN2ao24Ok4IDnRGDHY1MElOfb/s1600/dark+night+blackbirds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG17gM-EE6qFHUK0B7e9rwi3tTJw4K14-sG10LTdhDpWZMWJcNSCspCsTEk-mjRudJDRAX1Ho-0RIQQdjZkXipURA9T0T-PTcrjK07D-dvdy_gu6SW30hpN2ao24Ok4IDnRGDHY1MElOfb/s320/dark+night+blackbirds.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beneath Northern Skies<i><br /></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</i><i> Through the window I see no Star...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>something more near</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Though deeper within darkness</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>is entering the loneliness... </i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i> </i></div>
But as you can see, it's not about Stars, more about the dark of night and loneliness, which is how I feel now after scrapping my blog. The Thought Fox is really a poem about writing a poem. It's about rationalism, and Hughes comparing his poetic efforts, his struggle to write, to capturing and killing small animals. The poem has such power, but that thought alone, small animals being crucified, makes my heart bleed. I thought initially it was about seeking the primitive, crossing barriers, the realization that we all "belong", earth's creatures, one and all. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpN-ufzgiWidQngXGjt6pe0rqQPke2uZ-KJ630aslvzfo_iOGTAfOACcADeaEnfjT_2tSa_vxUq66GyQYqgeBJKGWp-sheKJp49UtqECUQRUkxmKEW8jyZU4mZAWifWMcn5ulMTan8EFMt/s1600/Brocante+fox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpN-ufzgiWidQngXGjt6pe0rqQPke2uZ-KJ630aslvzfo_iOGTAfOACcADeaEnfjT_2tSa_vxUq66GyQYqgeBJKGWp-sheKJp49UtqECUQRUkxmKEW8jyZU4mZAWifWMcn5ulMTan8EFMt/s320/Brocante+fox.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Thought-Fox" at Charras annual Brocante</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCAPU9A__hyphenhyphendzGLKvL4nl4VNKVWdcc_5nPvD7uQFOY-1f7XKEc2l8GmDKpiryQ_tFFhWwZDgAtKVpP1RpHMGDWZrYIbS1icsqYkaYWkgwrNO824Lo2uMQPR6gX56cFfQRst2_BKjDdZhTw/s1600/Strength+Monti+Sunset+Deck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCAPU9A__hyphenhyphendzGLKvL4nl4VNKVWdcc_5nPvD7uQFOY-1f7XKEc2l8GmDKpiryQ_tFFhWwZDgAtKVpP1RpHMGDWZrYIbS1icsqYkaYWkgwrNO824Lo2uMQPR6gX56cFfQRst2_BKjDdZhTw/s320/Strength+Monti+Sunset+Deck.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strength - Sunset Deck, Giovanni Monti</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I had heavyweights Rilke and D.H. Lawrence on board, Snakes and Duino Elegies =<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>...but also the stars, the stars of the earth. Oh at last to be dead and know them eternally, all the stars: for then how, how, how could we ever forget them? - </i>Rainier Maria Rilke - Seventh Elegy<br />
<br />
I thought they would help illuminate the shadows, but instead they cast longer, darker ones. And why did I get started on STARS in the first place? I was trying to grab "wisdom" by grabbing information & then I remembered a podcast with Brother David Stendahl-Rast, the lovely Austrian monk, where he said, you can grab information, but you can't "grab" wisdom, it has to grab you. <br />
<br />
But was it "random"? I love that word for some reason.<br />
<br />
1. made, done, happening, or chosen without method or conscious decision. "a random sample of 100 households, " more random spot checks." 2. <i>Informal</i> odd, unusual, unexpected. "I find it impossible to not laugh at such a random" guy. <br />
<br />
I'll go with the second definition: informal. I don't like "random spot checks" - it's like the trap the Thought Fox got caught in; though nothing random about that. When I was young, I communed with animals (and still do). I could see a light around their bodies, and when I looked in their eyes, they seemed to see thru me, past me, into a larger order. These singular moments seen thru my child eyes, have multiplied in France; the paysage is teeming with knowing glances.<br />
<br />
My latest one is a grey horse, my avatar. Driving thru Marval I had clocked him in his field with his pal, no place to pull over, so I stopped alongside the road. He came running over & stood there staring at me like the wolf/dog in Feuillade, as though he were waiting for an answer. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpI-kjxufJQw5cTEVgYEIALdaTeAu0ovTVKbRgnYAHRGah9Ke3ESWSfxK9w5aDwyd0vdFSFfEQD2C1a8mNWxirJAt_n_ryjYIHkBL26JIH2Vl1580xz1dQ9N3tgWT_WC2IlxKSokFAo02/s1600/Greyhorsewrainbow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpI-kjxufJQw5cTEVgYEIALdaTeAu0ovTVKbRgnYAHRGah9Ke3ESWSfxK9w5aDwyd0vdFSFfEQD2C1a8mNWxirJAt_n_ryjYIHkBL26JIH2Vl1580xz1dQ9N3tgWT_WC2IlxKSokFAo02/s320/Greyhorsewrainbow.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Avatar with a rainbow on his neck</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This morning, he was laying flat out on the ground when I drove by, friend next to him. I thought he was just resting, but I had to be sure, so I stopped the car, and he immediately lifted his head and gave me a kind eyed stare. I know it isn't about apples or carrots, these horses are lawnmowers, & they don't get handouts. I wish I had my camera, he looked like a king on the ground. I paid court.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqC6S7gd8246oJMJU3e6jT17ye9OZ5xuQ4IUGV_KWxX-x4WrHENk89qeUYpZmGmQI03TdGnI6QI87HQrAvnM1Kw1pOfXXzpNe9eOQ5JoHr8pP83MLWS3n9OqlImp0G-IcfpK1TWS8DoGSO/s1600/twohorses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqC6S7gd8246oJMJU3e6jT17ye9OZ5xuQ4IUGV_KWxX-x4WrHENk89qeUYpZmGmQI03TdGnI6QI87HQrAvnM1Kw1pOfXXzpNe9eOQ5JoHr8pP83MLWS3n9OqlImp0G-IcfpK1TWS8DoGSO/s200/twohorses.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Friends</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neighbor dog in Charras</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">There's an element of "grace" about it. </span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">GRACE: The free and unmerited favor of God, and the bestowal of blessings. Aside from saying grace at meals in the olden days, I've only experienced a genuine state of grace three times in my life. The first when my daughter was born and laid across my stomach, pure exaltation. The second time was when she died; my heart broke open, and I entered another state of grace. The third time was in Istanbul, lying on the gobektaksi, the large central stone in the Cemberlitas Hamam, one of the oldest Hamams, dating to Selim II's era. The sunlight beams were streaming thru the holes in the domed ceiling, & the earthy, generous sized, bare breasted Turkish masseuse was holding me, placing her hands across my stomach/womb...I was swept into the divine element of steaming water/primordial soup - life moving inside me again. And my second name, after my Grandmother Anne, in Hebrew, means favour or Grace. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">These thoughts of grace and communion had been on my mind for a while and brought me to thinking of Desire: From Middle English <i>desiren</i>, from Old French <i>desir(r)er</i>, from Latin <i>desidero, </i>to long for, desire, feel the want of, miss, regret, from de + sidus (in the phrase de sidere, "from the stars"). Desiderata: something necessary or highly desirable. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">And here's a little trivia about the 1927 Max Ehrman poem "Desidarata" (<i>go placidly amid the noise and haste...) </i>Calling it "Spock Thoughts" Leonard Nimoy recited the poem on his 1968 album, "Two Sides of Leonard Nimoy". The version also appeared in the 1995 re-release of Leonard Nimoy Presents Mr. Spock's Music From Outer Space. His rendition changed the second to the last sentence from "Be Cheerful" to "Be Careful" (should have kept both in there!) In concluding her January 8, 1970, interview with David Frost, Joan Crawford recited the Desiderata. That's all I have to say about Desiderata (and Whatever DID Happen to Baby Jane?).</span><br />
<br />
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<![endif]--><span style="font-family: "symbol"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-nGmpDzcruJRqfyH4llFu_5ieAgRoNZVLqFMVkJ3Mhps5tnbwdT-5xFHe8THPBoua9LKHOLNezxg0aOcOBFaz2JIueNAIaxX4lyXqxq6GwKHCaaPXMkG1fcW91xVoKdJ_Wi-n8q0os5GP/s1600/donkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-nGmpDzcruJRqfyH4llFu_5ieAgRoNZVLqFMVkJ3Mhps5tnbwdT-5xFHe8THPBoua9LKHOLNezxg0aOcOBFaz2JIueNAIaxX4lyXqxq6GwKHCaaPXMkG1fcW91xVoKdJ_Wi-n8q0os5GP/s320/donkey.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just look at those ears! I named him Spock</td></tr>
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My desire had been abandoned like the caboose left behind on the train tracks (trivia: did you know that a caboose in the 1700's was the kitchen on a ship's deck?) while the locomotive speeds thru the tunnel. And you can live without a lot of things, but desire isn't one of them. Funny how the word "Abandon" has that sad face of being left behind, but is so often coupled with "wild". <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKV8NIpuNM6ddw0T3lU70t6FohswJDcC9TXXpMgVqrR5uXqoOaKSik1wIlI81xcxUS6oU5KwkxivzdE3OC5BIuGHb5BSA5xfc93U5MWYhhU0sBSnaBilIfuDnMvNWsBMmSQ6VVtofEcK5x/s1600/New+Orleans+Cemetery+Angel+-+Contemplation%252C+2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKV8NIpuNM6ddw0T3lU70t6FohswJDcC9TXXpMgVqrR5uXqoOaKSik1wIlI81xcxUS6oU5KwkxivzdE3OC5BIuGHb5BSA5xfc93U5MWYhhU0sBSnaBilIfuDnMvNWsBMmSQ6VVtofEcK5x/s320/New+Orleans+Cemetery+Angel+-+Contemplation%252C+2010.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Orleans Cemetery Angel - Contemplation</td></tr>
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I always get excited when the STAR shows up in someone's reading. I know it's likely they will get their heart's desire, it's the guiding light, like the Star of Bethlehem and the Star of David. It represents radiance and confidence in our inherent light, life force that has every intention of actualizing creative ideas on earth thru our own natures. The philosopher Heidegger described the function of the archetype this way: <i>A person is not a thing or a process, but an opening through which the Absolute can manifest.</i> The Star card reminds us that each of us are gateways, openings for light. The Star shows us that we have come through to the other side. Some see the Star as the Planet Venus, the Morning Star. It brings healing and regeneration. Be a Star, Shine, let others see the real you, don't turn away from your own gifts. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPYOeYLm0cQNM9xnPHQgViyjdpR19F3YLwemcekkE9gnGel0jhmGdrHaHNf5tnVQjFtADRnTElyWtvy3nQ4eykGNAnJ17uxMAMzqF9r16qHq6eOgIykyqZlVkd1WuoPTeEwbldzwM4DtYc/s1600/The+Star.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPYOeYLm0cQNM9xnPHQgViyjdpR19F3YLwemcekkE9gnGel0jhmGdrHaHNf5tnVQjFtADRnTElyWtvy3nQ4eykGNAnJ17uxMAMzqF9r16qHq6eOgIykyqZlVkd1WuoPTeEwbldzwM4DtYc/s400/The+Star.jpg" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Star - Salvadore Dali </td></tr>
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I love the Salvadore Dali Star from the deck my french friend, Martine, gave me. I don't use the deck for readings; they feel like stand alone pieces of art.<br />
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The J. Philip Thomas,Tarot de Paris deck, which my darling brother gave me, has a sumptuous Star too - can't you just feel the way it radiates off the card?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgec1CpmNSdJAe8TTLasPPyZ5BoCai8AnF6XsJ54kPS9iobYVPUSEYDGYdWnUoJIeyqX5wo1xS4J5aXF99vsovHmgETRLgBfgkbu5vAf5rhPg5LKGgHJik62qi31zdyKtIXDKnvSrfOUjwk/s1600/The+Star+Tarot+de+Paris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgec1CpmNSdJAe8TTLasPPyZ5BoCai8AnF6XsJ54kPS9iobYVPUSEYDGYdWnUoJIeyqX5wo1xS4J5aXF99vsovHmgETRLgBfgkbu5vAf5rhPg5LKGgHJik62qi31zdyKtIXDKnvSrfOUjwk/s400/The+Star+Tarot+de+Paris.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">J. Philip Thomas Deck - The Star</td></tr>
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The Italian writer, Italo Calvino wrote, <i>the Tarot is a machine for constructing stories. </i>And I'm a sucker for stories. In regular conversation, I feel I am slightly incoherent; I don't have the linear thread, I see the confused look in people's eyes when I try to tell them about a film I saw, or a joke, I usually lead with the punch line. My mind is like a kalaidescope, tumbling shards of color and emotions. It is only in hearing other's stories over a deck of cards, I am lent a voice, not fully my own, but given to me to speak from some more lucid, interior well. Lately, I've been kissed by God.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Random: Don't you just love a blue door? </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZaTDjldANqM1cv7w8DWBsrLBZckml6WSy2adS2U0xuvSipIDgmQYvK6Wlt-q1DtuB_hyphenhyphen3gnqVJhq2Mm40FgUx2J3Rf1XuKBnFfkn98Q11nE57CJWcUuWZPLzS3uagrp20j6XXHOcN0UJ/s1600/blue+door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZaTDjldANqM1cv7w8DWBsrLBZckml6WSy2adS2U0xuvSipIDgmQYvK6Wlt-q1DtuB_hyphenhyphen3gnqVJhq2Mm40FgUx2J3Rf1XuKBnFfkn98Q11nE57CJWcUuWZPLzS3uagrp20j6XXHOcN0UJ/s320/blue+door.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doumerac</td></tr>
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And a chair in a field?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZchWkmoDtZ1nva6cuWxZk41HqRsa29Jb1Qby5m2dGLfftX1vf92uh4cO8IFYuE3FQeiZV8unA3JtPHDTQNzSQUuEz744dvhOb6Ud9bniz39I5XmyBaUO6y96l_G2Wy0iMwT2yMZHDuC6/s1600/chair+in+field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZchWkmoDtZ1nva6cuWxZk41HqRsa29Jb1Qby5m2dGLfftX1vf92uh4cO8IFYuE3FQeiZV8unA3JtPHDTQNzSQUuEz744dvhOb6Ud9bniz39I5XmyBaUO6y96l_G2Wy0iMwT2yMZHDuC6/s400/chair+in+field.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near Feuillade</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Nocturne</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Night comes, an angel stands</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Measuring out the time of stars,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Still are the winds, and still the hours.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">It would be peace to lie</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Still in the still hours at the angel's feet,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Upon a star hung in a starry sky,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">But heart's another measure beat.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Each body, wingless as it lies,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Sends out its butterfly of night</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">With delicate wings, and jeweled eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">And some upon day's shore are cast,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">and some in darkness lost</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">in waves beyond the world, were float</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">somewhere the islands of the blest.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Kathleen Raine</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQY5tK4VrmEy29vAw-jdxIf1TF0qwBq20YDzijBXxHh_Ro6xOfVv_LvPSOTa5zUMWIYCyXy3mW9bhbKpM3DqCUn7WESLPd1mk0xfPqCxC-P9vfxxGqdFQiIMXTAMmFv1n3q6f8RPzJr-Ci/s1600/angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQY5tK4VrmEy29vAw-jdxIf1TF0qwBq20YDzijBXxHh_Ro6xOfVv_LvPSOTa5zUMWIYCyXy3mW9bhbKpM3DqCUn7WESLPd1mk0xfPqCxC-P9vfxxGqdFQiIMXTAMmFv1n3q6f8RPzJr-Ci/s400/angel.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But tell no one I am an angel. www.alexandraeldridge.com</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMJK9r_Ix-wMD_L4JgDX2UuZbTQg3PrxDuSGtxADzNLoGJEOUwBJyI9gPdmopcTbbyIELvhbFI142WaalRXPg9f6jJ4xF2ZM_ttOh8Axwz_53C-zxYZ1RuuVLnlCTGuRT0sOQ7mHc4OuZ/s1600/391_1stars_above_haleakala__haleakala_national_park__maui__hi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSMJK9r_Ix-wMD_L4JgDX2UuZbTQg3PrxDuSGtxADzNLoGJEOUwBJyI9gPdmopcTbbyIELvhbFI142WaalRXPg9f6jJ4xF2ZM_ttOh8Axwz_53C-zxYZ1RuuVLnlCTGuRT0sOQ7mHc4OuZ/s400/391_1stars_above_haleakala__haleakala_national_park__maui__hi.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stars above Haleakala National Park, Maui, HI.</td></tr>
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We try to fix and control that which is beyond us and so much seems beyond us, but we can't control the stars, we can't even "fix" them as they explode around us. Star gazing brings us to silence. Meister Eckhart said: <i>Nothing in the world resembles God so much as silence</i>. In 1998 we trooped en masse up Mt. Tamalpais to see the Leonid showers. We had our cushions, our blankets, coffee and our sense of wonder. An intimacy on the hillside with an easy group of souls, the only sound was the warm feathered winds. I never wanted to go to the moon, but I could swim in the stars.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflfEIcMYw4_UVFqPFm-0Jt_3kcQNCaCvTUzNyyND4FC60Sz0lEt7vOvLGz0XPffxsXoaC00x2Dk_pl5Tjzo53SjUebeWo8zvtMoyGs3BTweVM6o4Tj72ioLukZpu3gVXszkgSVUT5FtJJ/s1600/doggie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgflfEIcMYw4_UVFqPFm-0Jt_3kcQNCaCvTUzNyyND4FC60Sz0lEt7vOvLGz0XPffxsXoaC00x2Dk_pl5Tjzo53SjUebeWo8zvtMoyGs3BTweVM6o4Tj72ioLukZpu3gVXszkgSVUT5FtJJ/s320/doggie.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another Avatar in Feuillade</td></tr>
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You don't need certainty - you matter. And no matter how lost you may be, you keep searching to be found.<br />
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<span style="color: #93c47d;"><i> Our birth is but a sleep and forgetting</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d;"><i> The soul rises with us, our life's STAR</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d;"><i> Hath had elsewhere its setting </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d;"><i> And cometh from afar </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d;"> Nathaniel Hawthorne</span></div>
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<i>These are the days of miracle & wonder. A distant constellation dying in the sky.</i> - Paul Simon<br />
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Thalia, my comic muse, just whispered in my ear...don't forget to laugh! And she's right, I've learned as much from comedians about being human, as from philosophers and poets. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1i4zJMpxoSLV_2uoV0z0Hifk_hlB_zMrK4n0fxY9m1RqlkdUUbknTSUMfSmydJd_LwZhylFd35DdE5HRFgz9W2-MCgDKbDG8iMMwGxwCP-TMPzZ1VFevmvfuxBYPFLFW7zplOAgZILnU/s1600/Pensees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1i4zJMpxoSLV_2uoV0z0Hifk_hlB_zMrK4n0fxY9m1RqlkdUUbknTSUMfSmydJd_LwZhylFd35DdE5HRFgz9W2-MCgDKbDG8iMMwGxwCP-TMPzZ1VFevmvfuxBYPFLFW7zplOAgZILnU/s400/Pensees.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pensees - St. Severin Cafe</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">And to bring it all back round to Desire...if we go deep down inside ourselves, we find out we possess exactly what we desire.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">We live as thresholds between the great memory and between the new promise and the new life towards which we are called. Stay open to this invitation -- we needn't be confined to hungry ledges; we can be alive and intense with the energy from elsewhere, not dependent on struggle, endurance. The Divine world offers itself in every moment to your imagination; break out of isolation and heal all that is damaged, God has come to you. Celebrate your belonging to the great presence. You are in yourself, in this clay world, you are the earth. You are already home.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i> </i>John O'Donohue, the Immortal Irish Poet- www.johnodonohue.com </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkld3VMIK4fvgism_iL1Zd_3eRagx0mbQhAUjvdQ6jDAtiQtRhmzVytJOrkx9vI53nmd6Gw7T6kVVWGVq5t5gWuiMuIm0qS-SuH4ZkUj4iIrKXv7LMY6LkimBxeAsN_1jkaBxtBUjqXQGd/s1600/chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkld3VMIK4fvgism_iL1Zd_3eRagx0mbQhAUjvdQ6jDAtiQtRhmzVytJOrkx9vI53nmd6Gw7T6kVVWGVq5t5gWuiMuIm0qS-SuH4ZkUj4iIrKXv7LMY6LkimBxeAsN_1jkaBxtBUjqXQGd/s320/chicken.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some days chickens, some days feathers</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">A Moment Of Happiness,<br /> you and I sitting on the verandah,<br /> apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.<br /> We feel the flowing water of life here,<br /> you and I, with the garden's beauty<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> and the birds singing.<br /> The stars will be watching us,<br /> and we will show them<br /> what it is to be a thin crescent moon.<br /> You and I unselfed, will be together,<br /> indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.<br /> The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar<br /> as we laugh together, you and I.<br /> In one form upon this earth,<br /> and in another form in a timeless sweet land.</span></span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> Rumi</span></div>
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A few highlights below from the events I did in April and May, Champs Rose and La Charrue - <br />
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One
of my favorite private readings was for an Irish/Scottish lad named
James, just 10 years old who asked all the big questions, like "where is
God?" Would he come to James's house if he were invited? and I had such
small answers, but I was able to tell him, thanks to John O' Donohue,
that the ancient word for Home is God, so there is a good chance he will show up & James can play a video game with him. <br />
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Beltane: midway between Equinox and Summer Solstice. We come alive in our flesh! A portal beckons, <i>...you heard, that day, a more-than-green voice from the stripped
branches. Wooden lace, a celestial geometry, your twig-winged angel of
annunciation uttered more than familiar rhythms of growth. It said by
the Grace of God - we take the daylight for granted, the moon, the
measured tides...you practiced the presence of God as a musician
practices hour after hour his art: 'A stone carver before the carver,
you 'entered into yourself.'</i><br />
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- Denise Levertov from Sands of the Well, Conversion of Brother Lawrence.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QesLCRQxHvX08H53VXDnjFtDsUaRsQ_k21E4LJebqnCGdCablX8YH7Kttma3t9vUfQO61ZJ-uZ3_H0fGNXt7O_xVBTMWW4_USCER4hpLkjHa9zJgBUM1VJM5-fyzjgUjPGRTpSqAl-6P/s1600/Mapangel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6QesLCRQxHvX08H53VXDnjFtDsUaRsQ_k21E4LJebqnCGdCablX8YH7Kttma3t9vUfQO61ZJ-uZ3_H0fGNXt7O_xVBTMWW4_USCER4hpLkjHa9zJgBUM1VJM5-fyzjgUjPGRTpSqAl-6P/s200/Mapangel.jpg" width="172" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angel at my Table</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSlw7Q0l9eRPus43r_RNB4lQw3-VgujuLoaLHQHn8dbhUzxMUdLBqXVznnytOuFl9U65h0nIE_c0f2EVn3qCuiQj3GHHjYfSvdc1Pb0Sw24M9Fc7ev_4OYZcfy7qmiwCo7lSr6vGw3MaR/s1600/Parrot+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSlw7Q0l9eRPus43r_RNB4lQw3-VgujuLoaLHQHn8dbhUzxMUdLBqXVznnytOuFl9U65h0nIE_c0f2EVn3qCuiQj3GHHjYfSvdc1Pb0Sw24M9Fc7ev_4OYZcfy7qmiwCo7lSr6vGw3MaR/s320/Parrot+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Charrue parrot and commentator</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqdbcKz5w-R4HSvYLgrhVlHJT2EpWYY0IB_ZEiPdJBYamey0s1wvfm-BT-_wS1x2c46OAiA1uE6i17O5CCwxFYjelakz3u723WCexLzQKNvhhJoEEL8zVhGdInIrtrXgToslciLuWHII0/s1600/Flowers+for+Lisa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqdbcKz5w-R4HSvYLgrhVlHJT2EpWYY0IB_ZEiPdJBYamey0s1wvfm-BT-_wS1x2c46OAiA1uE6i17O5CCwxFYjelakz3u723WCexLzQKNvhhJoEEL8zVhGdInIrtrXgToslciLuWHII0/s200/Flowers+for+Lisa.jpg" width="173" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers for Lisa at La Charrue</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ47bX1uJkjSSo6zxzK6OblA3oXy67P0uAsgoOVwPH61pNg8477ud_UQc6Prnb-ypV6jdKLMzYeP8AKcAAK8gG48NNOxd_5TXq_vl1gnuwWKZ3EYURfaiVE9K75WfL-yC3S6xSJ7tu7Wiv/s1600/rapefield+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ47bX1uJkjSSo6zxzK6OblA3oXy67P0uAsgoOVwPH61pNg8477ud_UQc6Prnb-ypV6jdKLMzYeP8AKcAAK8gG48NNOxd_5TXq_vl1gnuwWKZ3EYURfaiVE9K75WfL-yC3S6xSJ7tu7Wiv/s320/rapefield+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rape fields on the way to Champs Rose</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HUbJXO5qcD4osc3SLuTZZN_7xdKloB3iEfQdAJi2sL4NQp0qT3y6U9kP_-R1h9V5N_N7oVA4pr-UxePhT1YGMB1rXeWhjDQEZeRrOrKeKb8Yz1Ae6FytEOwWoh11VK807f-QXxdD01bO/s1600/Wellbeingbus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HUbJXO5qcD4osc3SLuTZZN_7xdKloB3iEfQdAJi2sL4NQp0qT3y6U9kP_-R1h9V5N_N7oVA4pr-UxePhT1YGMB1rXeWhjDQEZeRrOrKeKb8Yz1Ae6FytEOwWoh11VK807f-QXxdD01bO/s320/Wellbeingbus.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tapestry - Champs Rose</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLxxezyz4Y64s5g3V2XBBEYDlAPkAXNY9R2MolQE9X22iptHcBeIS75SalX6GyhCpe2zg13Fh6yP5-bOzQrE3hLJuE2SCuZdoYa9syfr1co2uRrX7FAEm-Gfx36sXjYqHTNJ9gQO-QOV0/s1600/champroseoutside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLxxezyz4Y64s5g3V2XBBEYDlAPkAXNY9R2MolQE9X22iptHcBeIS75SalX6GyhCpe2zg13Fh6yP5-bOzQrE3hLJuE2SCuZdoYa9syfr1co2uRrX7FAEm-Gfx36sXjYqHTNJ9gQO-QOV0/s320/champroseoutside.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grounds of Champ Rose</td></tr>
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Always a heart left behind, maybe more than one...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GmuYLIDsOBGdBsAY5kV4N5r9Y3eWs_bNAZnMu4mpXg2g9Wsd5EVcBU4C4Bf_4LbggghXjSJABx8wS3qRbU3vUx1eP1sJlXScSOZT1omDDJVwkLhWiY6W40080m8K-LQEXy4nGw7dlKmk/s1600/Heartchamprose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GmuYLIDsOBGdBsAY5kV4N5r9Y3eWs_bNAZnMu4mpXg2g9Wsd5EVcBU4C4Bf_4LbggghXjSJABx8wS3qRbU3vUx1eP1sJlXScSOZT1omDDJVwkLhWiY6W40080m8K-LQEXy4nGw7dlKmk/s320/Heartchamprose.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Champs Rose</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFW1k99HeHcCTBLb_LSURpUEwNi99whwPimjyrPLl9J6lsYG-rSzyClTHaboO2q5dBy7rY4heOfVJibCIN4MBzDhe8DzReDtyREzUfcTFArCVugYjT4Wd6q5BSC1utSM6u4imjSWVC2D4N/s1600/Star.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFW1k99HeHcCTBLb_LSURpUEwNi99whwPimjyrPLl9J6lsYG-rSzyClTHaboO2q5dBy7rY4heOfVJibCIN4MBzDhe8DzReDtyREzUfcTFArCVugYjT4Wd6q5BSC1utSM6u4imjSWVC2D4N/s200/Star.jpg" width="147" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Star - Sunrise/Sunset Deck</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpVJBGptSRqTKPFjIgbi3_N2g_AAtELXXxFRpf_jD-2qukKcRcgaasoQfeYjiAxlv_EjISnKwl2FVSFJgyVFiHiBuvSDM7d5RQ07Vxv1GiYL_29voVkF0ZC2-5oieBReW8bgoyB0wqShg/s1600/woodcouch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfpVJBGptSRqTKPFjIgbi3_N2g_AAtELXXxFRpf_jD-2qukKcRcgaasoQfeYjiAxlv_EjISnKwl2FVSFJgyVFiHiBuvSDM7d5RQ07Vxv1GiYL_29voVkF0ZC2-5oieBReW8bgoyB0wqShg/s320/woodcouch.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Les Pieces de Temps - La Chapelle Montbrandeix</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPCbmgHSrGbevvwAas4ho8JNj-qEYUDgFscxZsPFlex0bAvKhybfNRJ6nSGMnia5Gtw8GE3ix3zeb38XGXkZzrARhwJdhAZYFNZv1NkrX__CLZl5Z4A8fUwEjI4R6NBTz2QnOXrhv7EjBN/s1600/Heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPCbmgHSrGbevvwAas4ho8JNj-qEYUDgFscxZsPFlex0bAvKhybfNRJ6nSGMnia5Gtw8GE3ix3zeb38XGXkZzrARhwJdhAZYFNZv1NkrX__CLZl5Z4A8fUwEjI4R6NBTz2QnOXrhv7EjBN/s200/Heart.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Expo - Zou</td></tr>
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I began with Helene Cixous (whom I first encountered at a voice workshop with Enrique Pardo of Pantheatre, offshoot of Roy Hart Theatre, Chateau Malerargues in the Cevannes - www.pantheatre.com -Paris et Malerargures, Gard, learning one of her texts by heart from The Third Body), it is fitting that I should end with her as well. <br />
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"...for me death is past. It as already taken place, my own. It was at the beginning..." Helene Cixous<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfc2oS8_ofsZjnb4UAQqItHB4Ap19E01AdH4YR6kgt-63L7PlGuqYN4m40ZIGhL7vUZTohxAfhvI6ZqoKuEdSXVcHQrHWANkrnciGH3RJqAgN3faC7T8eZFcNgfzUwVPE2LCEM8Z3m-zyt/s1600/helene-cixouss-quotes-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfc2oS8_ofsZjnb4UAQqItHB4Ap19E01AdH4YR6kgt-63L7PlGuqYN4m40ZIGhL7vUZTohxAfhvI6ZqoKuEdSXVcHQrHWANkrnciGH3RJqAgN3faC7T8eZFcNgfzUwVPE2LCEM8Z3m-zyt/s320/helene-cixouss-quotes-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helene Cixous</td></tr>
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VOILA! <br />
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I will be California Dreamin,'' then in Santa Fe, Silver City, New Mexico for the next 5 weeks to do Tarot events and private readings. If you are interested in attending an event or would like to schedule a private reading, please contact me at ramartin8@gmail.com. <br />
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<br />Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-82971221666262308002016-03-11T17:23:00.000-08:002016-03-13T12:06:15.695-07:00AN INTERLUDE - Réfléchir - A New Moon<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZ3n6GXRg4sgfExCI84tCu4EYE9Rd6FQjbj0T_hn5XMablfvcG-mW8a5NCWYUHkPTzntJssIpuvG1sCg1Ih2nW6AsserK-XBVqGck_YWwL11QkXZCbD4q097bhnmu40089HJA2VslgL5Q/s1600/Italian+angelover100+yearsold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZ3n6GXRg4sgfExCI84tCu4EYE9Rd6FQjbj0T_hn5XMablfvcG-mW8a5NCWYUHkPTzntJssIpuvG1sCg1Ih2nW6AsserK-XBVqGck_YWwL11QkXZCbD4q097bhnmu40089HJA2VslgL5Q/s400/Italian+angelover100+yearsold.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Italian Angel over 100 years old</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>Strange Angels</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i> They say that heaven is like TV <br />A perfect little world that doesn't really need you <br />And everything there is made of light <br />And the days keep going by </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i><br />Here they come <br />Here they come <br /> Here they come </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Laurie Anderson</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_n6sMIZDrg8KME8vF0V_EWLxvi97QIvcOBULEw-FAlUu-IpU0dGKjEfM89x4b6lMCGF9DD8kDpVXjrmOpkx1waVZGrybxQoVYFm53Qyu33O265AgH_NtflVb4NWroKKp98sufyDFxxZAQ/s1600/Stanislaus+Bouvier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_n6sMIZDrg8KME8vF0V_EWLxvi97QIvcOBULEw-FAlUu-IpU0dGKjEfM89x4b6lMCGF9DD8kDpVXjrmOpkx1waVZGrybxQoVYFm53Qyu33O265AgH_NtflVb4NWroKKp98sufyDFxxZAQ/s400/Stanislaus+Bouvier.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanislaus Bouvier - Festival International Du Film, 2015</td></tr>
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Still reveling in the mystery...<br />
Inscrutable and transcendent in the same moment.<br />
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There is a Sufi story where you stand in front of a door, the door opens - you get a glimpse of heaven. When will the door open again? Maybe in a few seconds or a thousand years. Are you ready to walk through the door? <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXiKOqlMWYvWVtj2lEN1ljJ0JrWCJKKxdZDkCo0ZygK2V7IXgKcSuKOQYzjlHkiuzur2LLvJN6a5lA4LWUjchxWthlCDH9GN4vR3TzJkZYvzvPnYKUeTHhMFDbe18baC3psw2Tug3hlS8r/s1600/Singing+Angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXiKOqlMWYvWVtj2lEN1ljJ0JrWCJKKxdZDkCo0ZygK2V7IXgKcSuKOQYzjlHkiuzur2LLvJN6a5lA4LWUjchxWthlCDH9GN4vR3TzJkZYvzvPnYKUeTHhMFDbe18baC3psw2Tug3hlS8r/s400/Singing+Angel.jpg" width="332" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View to the Chai from bedroom window </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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âIn the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.<br />
â William Blake <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiykY9BgLFyIhL5ws6H9bzdSU15sZn6kX6HBuQ_5K87_yqhrHDR0Q-b7EO1IgSBwIgLpgbYfAMzQv_nVit6PL1LsWGLorEX6yZQiGa2YRX-COhJ05B8QU0gY3s-gy57d4We7PvUkHoFm_y2/s1600/hand+door+knocker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiykY9BgLFyIhL5ws6H9bzdSU15sZn6kX6HBuQ_5K87_yqhrHDR0Q-b7EO1IgSBwIgLpgbYfAMzQv_nVit6PL1LsWGLorEX6yZQiGa2YRX-COhJ05B8QU0gY3s-gy57d4We7PvUkHoFm_y2/s320/hand+door+knocker.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Door Knocker - Eugene Atget</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPAVHGP6nT5tCfGmSk3Jpw5dFo1PVWBSwp8IUTajoPSKJ0ha-VE2WQGrpEVFdVwUkz5IMT3QPXXTihBkIEhvQYhDql6pSLlhdQFdB0qNSAR6_Cc5iDJh1rvHBVMM84KvoJBWtYrRBa8_A/s1600/San+Miguel+de+Allende+door+May+2015Jennifer+Butson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPAVHGP6nT5tCfGmSk3Jpw5dFo1PVWBSwp8IUTajoPSKJ0ha-VE2WQGrpEVFdVwUkz5IMT3QPXXTihBkIEhvQYhDql6pSLlhdQFdB0qNSAR6_Cc5iDJh1rvHBVMM84KvoJBWtYrRBa8_A/s320/San+Miguel+de+Allende+door+May+2015Jennifer+Butson.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">San Miguel de Allende - Jennifer Butson</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0TLcIPLSTsAVSIl_pFWzYwAcRHizXQDL61gTXCd-FBYL174-_KS8fZc_bJjdVTPae6HYkVRoiJGnWD51IDfv7u2WxMrqG0dRP3qfAG_iFcpLaHMBKhJIsoLIapvEz1H1RXrCby3_WI7BC/s1600/lovers+doorknocker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0TLcIPLSTsAVSIl_pFWzYwAcRHizXQDL61gTXCd-FBYL174-_KS8fZc_bJjdVTPae6HYkVRoiJGnWD51IDfv7u2WxMrqG0dRP3qfAG_iFcpLaHMBKhJIsoLIapvEz1H1RXrCby3_WI7BC/s200/lovers+doorknocker.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Door Knocker - Eugene Atget</td></tr>
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<br />
December - I spent the month in the woods, housesitting for a friend. I was hiding in the open - in the "sweet darkness," with
Rockstar, the old dog, my heart a rookery - Keeper of Secrets,
knowledge under the leaves... I was "wordless". I made fires and listened to the rain. I kept company with the Hermit, Laurie Anderson, Van Morrison, Simon & Garfunkle, John O'Donohue: <i>Hello Darkness, my old friend.</i> I read a lot. I listened to poets. Time passed.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56cm2ZwdvlmlDodejlZFkb_Rm2w4_HoMbTEeDcxlvt2k0vXeytRNjXeKX2Im2UV-RhBOM57Pi9Ota2fTWoVnVv5p1fLTV5E_YOziyji8ma5rbWdtW2Ifw8xn6fMNhEDvIFlWtKFxIUXb9/s1600/Hiding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56cm2ZwdvlmlDodejlZFkb_Rm2w4_HoMbTEeDcxlvt2k0vXeytRNjXeKX2Im2UV-RhBOM57Pi9Ota2fTWoVnVv5p1fLTV5E_YOziyji8ma5rbWdtW2Ifw8xn6fMNhEDvIFlWtKFxIUXb9/s400/Hiding.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiding in full view</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipX1_Q0fXbe2rYVIHZIeb1GfhUEK1osp4X9507sD0mqeQNk0W9GkmT02EKQZT3c8zTxtoU7xZE4tQWNyje3m3ObrMc9nGottj8NIIozYbOFi06F-NSlRoRbzV2jiOwRjXsShQF9Byk9Rda/s1600/HIding8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipX1_Q0fXbe2rYVIHZIeb1GfhUEK1osp4X9507sD0mqeQNk0W9GkmT02EKQZT3c8zTxtoU7xZE4tQWNyje3m3ObrMc9nGottj8NIIozYbOFi06F-NSlRoRbzV2jiOwRjXsShQF9Byk9Rda/s320/HIding8.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rockstar & Me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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HIDING<br />
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<i> is a way of staying alive. Hiding is a way of holding
ourselves until we are ready to come into the light. Even hiding the
truth from ourselves can be a way to come to what we need in our own
necessary time. Hiding is one of the brilliant and virtuoso practices of
almost every part of the natural world: the protective quiet of an icy
northern landscape, the held bud of a future summer rose, the snow bound
internal pulse of the hibernating bear.</i> Excerpted from âHIDINGâ From CONSOLATIONS: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words.<br />
2015 © David Whyte: <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZTmZi0xe17zHhN5ueOJ6aIPuNPVBGVXbgjC0NeWHFYykS6-6d4FNz1-LNk20pwnyiV9410oMA4RI815nr3Y7J1JkezulScOIW63FKi7NCeQfK2S9JsUZyCAoCdfakCUH_81geTkSGU2E7/s1600/Wood+stove+at+Jodies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZTmZi0xe17zHhN5ueOJ6aIPuNPVBGVXbgjC0NeWHFYykS6-6d4FNz1-LNk20pwnyiV9410oMA4RI815nr3Y7J1JkezulScOIW63FKi7NCeQfK2S9JsUZyCAoCdfakCUH_81geTkSGU2E7/s320/Wood+stove+at+Jodies.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Jodies</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78uh46QQCwhxcS7wMAOpNqPNlP0D7RLL836k6146OMKw_w53N7ruyUfJaa8dr61GABlO2_i9Ky7rO4lL1D1lO5tP0EOEDEm_Ivu6OlRhYPaskoZJfTcTzY4qvU-ck5Srd4Fj4BDMnHznw/s1600/Garden+in+Winter+Chateau+Nontron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78uh46QQCwhxcS7wMAOpNqPNlP0D7RLL836k6146OMKw_w53N7ruyUfJaa8dr61GABlO2_i9Ky7rO4lL1D1lO5tP0EOEDEm_Ivu6OlRhYPaskoZJfTcTzY4qvU-ck5Srd4Fj4BDMnHznw/s320/Garden+in+Winter+Chateau+Nontron.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jardin d'hiver - Expo Chateau de Nontron</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXawIEH5B2_XzsPIi8399rtGK7Q0K8fbCwPW9t1VY6mT9KiyLwACZ58IAzYRUddzCchu48GwppvFbKoTx-xVXfaK1V_NlwGTH7di4JAg8MkLboZGH_OOOrykzB-83QfdNU1wm837pi4g7/s1600/La+Liseuse%252C+Robert+James+Gordon%252C+1877.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXawIEH5B2_XzsPIi8399rtGK7Q0K8fbCwPW9t1VY6mT9KiyLwACZ58IAzYRUddzCchu48GwppvFbKoTx-xVXfaK1V_NlwGTH7di4JAg8MkLboZGH_OOOrykzB-83QfdNU1wm837pi4g7/s320/La+Liseuse%252C+Robert+James+Gordon%252C+1877.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UpV-qd0IsCUfSl6_S1BjKXvfCk4xrgrpRUKXvVamkJDmIvaBodCVw9xKFrjpmiV7oZHJr5FZyyH64XiFwaeKiVf9u87zXySk83OaXF-_mwdSA3uRjyvknLCQkuIeNM1JScIZuikvXRIg/s1600/Statue+at+Jodies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UpV-qd0IsCUfSl6_S1BjKXvfCk4xrgrpRUKXvVamkJDmIvaBodCVw9xKFrjpmiV7oZHJr5FZyyH64XiFwaeKiVf9u87zXySk83OaXF-_mwdSA3uRjyvknLCQkuIeNM1JScIZuikvXRIg/s320/Statue+at+Jodies.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue at Jodies</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikP-pcTmcegOBAMPQXX9_3qI-JULARtAwnXCMoTb7F2GTxTwT-Iv0z2FEOLdlhyphenhyphenZ0KC048B2p4V2MT7YuHveTW4GTcHh2sAb2pKDZLfNr7g664-bx0iFFVdT2yLhcQyFX12HHVnqOSf3rs/s1600/Hermit+Visconti+Sforza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikP-pcTmcegOBAMPQXX9_3qI-JULARtAwnXCMoTb7F2GTxTwT-Iv0z2FEOLdlhyphenhyphenZ0KC048B2p4V2MT7YuHveTW4GTcHh2sAb2pKDZLfNr7g664-bx0iFFVdT2yLhcQyFX12HHVnqOSf3rs/s320/Hermit+Visconti+Sforza.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hermit - Visconti Sforza</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IMirV8DstKrTtah4JPOlgn0TNQ35G_dmaRq0CbbPJ8ESF8rHr79P3rDVlj7VYWyFwWjC_HMoZ8fkFmtj3plaii79OlG5FKj7Ey3gPqNsYo3AzYjaOdMoF0dB9qf6R2jtBo7WVxpRky7S/s1600/Reading+Jodies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IMirV8DstKrTtah4JPOlgn0TNQ35G_dmaRq0CbbPJ8ESF8rHr79P3rDVlj7VYWyFwWjC_HMoZ8fkFmtj3plaii79OlG5FKj7Ey3gPqNsYo3AzYjaOdMoF0dB9qf6R2jtBo7WVxpRky7S/s320/Reading+Jodies.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Knowledge Under the Leaves</td></tr>
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I thought about the term "ubi consistam" from Archimedes, "Give me a place to stand and I can move the world." I knew where I stood, but then the world moved. At dawn and at dusk, Rockstar and I walked in and out of the forest, chasing the fugitive light. They say Goethe's last words were "more light". Walking on soggy leaves, I daydreamed in the half-light while Rocky listened to the higher frequencies. Often we would find odd things on the ground: a gold star next to a very long worm. Another time, plastic binoculars shaped like penguins. <i>The humble tenacity of things,</i> Adrienne Rich would have called it. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXT51xp0P1KflcWaEfq6YlBrYQTa0ms-fcFQiWLB3ci6SyWle2Cm0YAaVLYkHiJINilZaZqR34MpPdWhuu1V4gpcOPppCw-uhZ8Kzcv28hLo-E4P874A-fzRueV1ELjSl2C7wsXadL8-ng/s1600/Hiding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXT51xp0P1KflcWaEfq6YlBrYQTa0ms-fcFQiWLB3ci6SyWle2Cm0YAaVLYkHiJINilZaZqR34MpPdWhuu1V4gpcOPppCw-uhZ8Kzcv28hLo-E4P874A-fzRueV1ELjSl2C7wsXadL8-ng/s320/Hiding.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbaye de Fontaine Vive</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzfjYks3vXX8eYka7RsDAS778L6NRonugwX-CYoabom-U2rFLY6pZ6MedDnWIuhW0yQBZWBz5ZT5sGtrYjTSz0prQvZQxGrI0SrMe94oMFK65B_bRcpSdK4E8M7O7BPCJYd0QzEXvmY4Se/s1600/Heckle+%2526+Jeckle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzfjYks3vXX8eYka7RsDAS778L6NRonugwX-CYoabom-U2rFLY6pZ6MedDnWIuhW0yQBZWBz5ZT5sGtrYjTSz0prQvZQxGrI0SrMe94oMFK65B_bRcpSdK4E8M7O7BPCJYd0QzEXvmY4Se/s320/Heckle+%2526+Jeckle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Penguin binoculars christened Heckle & Jeckle</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I named the penguins, Heckle and Jeckle, after those wily magpies from Terrytoons Studio. Jeckle had a slightly falsetto English accent, and I think Heckle sounded like he was from the Bronx. They called each other "Chum" and "Chap", "Old Featherhead." Cheeky freeloaders and idlers up to no good most of the time, they always outsmarted their adversaries. Now I have them where I can keep a close eye on them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvT9cpAvh3uIbYDYUFekKg82Oqp6ahJmTX3SEoJr7T__crU-lwhyY3UjLsG8Sv4a-4H6Z6xdb-YOS2ijcDZmVP5Lu166_11N0pnWUXs4o-Cxv6_M659Qw-BziB7yGUn2Ry2qZD8HH_8b_/s1600/Alexandra+bathtub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrvT9cpAvh3uIbYDYUFekKg82Oqp6ahJmTX3SEoJr7T__crU-lwhyY3UjLsG8Sv4a-4H6Z6xdb-YOS2ijcDZmVP5Lu166_11N0pnWUXs4o-Cxv6_M659Qw-BziB7yGUn2Ry2qZD8HH_8b_/s400/Alexandra+bathtub.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">www.alexandraeldridge.com </td></tr>
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I took a lot of hot baths...<span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><i>To cleanse the Face of my Spirit by self-examination, <br /> To bathe in the waters of Life, to wash off the Not Human, <br /> I come in Self-annihilation and the grandeur of Inspiration </i>- William Blake</span></span><br />
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Blake for the soul, Epsom salts for the skin. I filled the margins of my <i>Diary of Beauty -</i> then couldn't read my own handwriting. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif";">Sunrise in Charras</span></td></tr>
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<i>Daydream transports the dreamer outside the immediate world to a world that bears the mark of infinity. </i> Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space<br />
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Sometimes "Beauty" is shy and unexpected... <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PUJNYTwSwqPwp2prSw5CKjFAl8g8kzsgCLdPbxyMrp1IqPPLLxR9IMzFQi2Q0iTBdqHYb3QjC5Ae_scCFRCvwLfy5I1A-uMbvGxWIwTiQ6y7ldirtg_dRE8USkmqmVi6fFpS4amisu5h/s1600/goats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PUJNYTwSwqPwp2prSw5CKjFAl8g8kzsgCLdPbxyMrp1IqPPLLxR9IMzFQi2Q0iTBdqHYb3QjC5Ae_scCFRCvwLfy5I1A-uMbvGxWIwTiQ6y7ldirtg_dRE8USkmqmVi6fFpS4amisu5h/s320/goats.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goats on the way to Tarot Event at Abjat-sur-Bandiat</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXYt_8Vp0H5s6NQV-EHpas3K2N2mi5jpsdZWO-hSyD-QFHoF7UlPB6KonfokTr1ipdljTDBxdUp-0htsbvB-251haFf6rQq1lrNSSWapEbNFmr1ORcEiDzhBuLW00ohAEEGAyHbtBFWH9/s1600/horse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXYt_8Vp0H5s6NQV-EHpas3K2N2mi5jpsdZWO-hSyD-QFHoF7UlPB6KonfokTr1ipdljTDBxdUp-0htsbvB-251haFf6rQq1lrNSSWapEbNFmr1ORcEiDzhBuLW00ohAEEGAyHbtBFWH9/s320/horse.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once you give them an apple they never forget you </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWZtQgMuUn4V0LYvx5BBK9KWwSAw4bd24J05fFUREYGIon-aMb2KIMph5neFHzNGX-3OgVmEBs-EugEILQwWgnfhhOYKNQIPX2agnP3sctbMwzS3JUrwJY3QHSJiVKbLHh7eUnLhcF6If/s1600/sheep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWZtQgMuUn4V0LYvx5BBK9KWwSAw4bd24J05fFUREYGIon-aMb2KIMph5neFHzNGX-3OgVmEBs-EugEILQwWgnfhhOYKNQIPX2agnP3sctbMwzS3JUrwJY3QHSJiVKbLHh7eUnLhcF6If/s200/sheep.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to Abjat-sur-Bandiat</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiugoUX3FOGeKkJQ8b1wBVwQLSdaQZLisAA3hFjSkOlAdAL4iRINtJ70GM4iMvbwO6ilOSPbpi35bKs0q1W-an-jmiZfXdI8yNDCLIn9eJ0J2VuLuxb459n7LEfRaGbRDxyi_WbJVqtpMtQ/s1600/Donkeyfriend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiugoUX3FOGeKkJQ8b1wBVwQLSdaQZLisAA3hFjSkOlAdAL4iRINtJ70GM4iMvbwO6ilOSPbpi35bKs0q1W-an-jmiZfXdI8yNDCLIn9eJ0J2VuLuxb459n7LEfRaGbRDxyi_WbJVqtpMtQ/s320/Donkeyfriend.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Donkey friend near Rauzet</td></tr>
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"I am not ashamed, afraid, or averse to tell you what Ought to be Told.
I am under the direction of Messengers from Heaven, Daily &
Nightly." - William Blake<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijTWZ_kX6czt0rCHVFlrhKrNsF_SUnYn0crJsBWCoMEH5TU69bjxquWjzC6OMG1Z12gn679n37Ja7P-DDN-CWfMn9_9yYrC9Uhki67_vWDctSdv-rPAfvUW7nFDK7bnlbDlv47LnQux1JL/s1600/Charlie+Chaplin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijTWZ_kX6czt0rCHVFlrhKrNsF_SUnYn0crJsBWCoMEH5TU69bjxquWjzC6OMG1Z12gn679n37Ja7P-DDN-CWfMn9_9yYrC9Uhki67_vWDctSdv-rPAfvUW7nFDK7bnlbDlv47LnQux1JL/s320/Charlie+Chaplin.jpg" width="177" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie in Bristol at Roger's house</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9spJzGy8f02FzDZkr1w8cvdffiRS2QT96RDIJswgJ4dXqpwT9UFgdcXWthzKJXCvU9aTB0fZhj88Mo-z9Hd5mS_CVLmwW4zljYkR99cnIm5s7NVs4QM81DYE70k8KfEmjzgRsORXwk_OK/s1600/sheep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9spJzGy8f02FzDZkr1w8cvdffiRS2QT96RDIJswgJ4dXqpwT9UFgdcXWthzKJXCvU9aTB0fZhj88Mo-z9Hd5mS_CVLmwW4zljYkR99cnIm5s7NVs4QM81DYE70k8KfEmjzgRsORXwk_OK/s320/sheep.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheep in Doumerac</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXPcN9MSM7bpsxqUSMKu728EvRPu__TT7A7AWYNceqrL9K-wC5gNcSRFihjsp3JXZVEwYx5YV9wMAM60olpRUF8uJ12zFEo7kCmPF8EMD86CvOIILh4L4lLu3pOsLjE2Feu4ZkbDlvPSmO/s1600/Fish+in+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXPcN9MSM7bpsxqUSMKu728EvRPu__TT7A7AWYNceqrL9K-wC5gNcSRFihjsp3JXZVEwYx5YV9wMAM60olpRUF8uJ12zFEo7kCmPF8EMD86CvOIILh4L4lLu3pOsLjE2Feu4ZkbDlvPSmO/s400/Fish+in+tree.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Borderie</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCqp-Sl-LNaHyYqInzDrfFpMA_t1oe4JbvjPJddEzYWATSVPOg51CHMXGGzcB5-YYljfCRN6YfwIPN8ZX9oEfC-I3nYeqNsadhC60gXGW14uMs5FnJ3vpcaiFJ4dJt4qq_Du8filZYOx3/s1600/Gettyimageowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCqp-Sl-LNaHyYqInzDrfFpMA_t1oe4JbvjPJddEzYWATSVPOg51CHMXGGzcB5-YYljfCRN6YfwIPN8ZX9oEfC-I3nYeqNsadhC60gXGW14uMs5FnJ3vpcaiFJ4dJt4qq_Du8filZYOx3/s320/Gettyimageowl.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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At Sunrise & at Dusk, <i>I was betrothed to the unknown - </i>John O'Donohue<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RQX1FFOdrP6oeBu-qemEh5JKQY4h3B2wM3g2FF8JtKWetfY1_2lDeV5gruEYpgI-t1qLCq8SJJbKJtUpxql_TJ2rFq4zpP9A57kJYq2aAqnymDw3_uF-yCTGN3CuKraLxA1MYCCYxSjk/s1600/rook_1496884c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RQX1FFOdrP6oeBu-qemEh5JKQY4h3B2wM3g2FF8JtKWetfY1_2lDeV5gruEYpgI-t1qLCq8SJJbKJtUpxql_TJ2rFq4zpP9A57kJYq2aAqnymDw3_uF-yCTGN3CuKraLxA1MYCCYxSjk/s320/rook_1496884c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Rockstar and I walked beneath all the phases of the Moon...<i>To be in the Wordless</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMqxIFCqyhddns50fHEWPlQwE0Q43DSuPUL3rclcCmuJrFXldMqo5l6B2XENoVMp58KH-HGJS3ty-Ejf2TeDwJepAFecgJXngIl47OYOve931tR20IfdKlM28aE7BqTQSocihUNt1Xmz3W/s1600/Moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMqxIFCqyhddns50fHEWPlQwE0Q43DSuPUL3rclcCmuJrFXldMqo5l6B2XENoVMp58KH-HGJS3ty-Ejf2TeDwJepAFecgJXngIl47OYOve931tR20IfdKlM28aE7BqTQSocihUNt1Xmz3W/s400/Moon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Full Moon over the village</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHiaZdSgbYnlZw9yS8CYO-mfgFpi0Yjh9bm17_LH4ok0Gj2x-V49Ij0rR6G0ZhRMbIZ0knQXyLUYu4miArE36NPPd0bFX8Bg5b1k48AGAUIUdhl9SQuKn0hu_6SgC88lBzcxAPoJ_TaVD/s1600/nightbirds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHiaZdSgbYnlZw9yS8CYO-mfgFpi0Yjh9bm17_LH4ok0Gj2x-V49Ij0rR6G0ZhRMbIZ0knQXyLUYu4miArE36NPPd0bFX8Bg5b1k48AGAUIUdhl9SQuKn0hu_6SgC88lBzcxAPoJ_TaVD/s320/nightbirds.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Night Birds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8izxYI5_g24A-_lxhAxwWcFtiBATew7Hq75GXVJoZNvkb0Flhif3dyPBNAeTR53OE7bDiwLVKmBGdPV0ceY8vGWDbnXV71Ht6-MVHczoam5zNC99b9LhII4k3yfj_9dw_k6MqNt2lqeWN/s1600/Luna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8izxYI5_g24A-_lxhAxwWcFtiBATew7Hq75GXVJoZNvkb0Flhif3dyPBNAeTR53OE7bDiwLVKmBGdPV0ceY8vGWDbnXV71Ht6-MVHczoam5zNC99b9LhII4k3yfj_9dw_k6MqNt2lqeWN/s320/Luna.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">XVIII La Luna - Soprafino - 19thc.Italian</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGhl8AvVIYiiW8MVnNHhtg92F2br1ixKwxfbpaXnj4j8lPWdwNjix2qZaJtsbHNVtfotgEP2VG5rPqcXD2Z0oSYaPysyebIblhFLlxecnZoqXVSZGG8IovW9Xlj5wUd02IHk8In4Gy-QlV/s1600/double+moons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGhl8AvVIYiiW8MVnNHhtg92F2br1ixKwxfbpaXnj4j8lPWdwNjix2qZaJtsbHNVtfotgEP2VG5rPqcXD2Z0oSYaPysyebIblhFLlxecnZoqXVSZGG8IovW9Xlj5wUd02IHk8In4Gy-QlV/s200/double+moons.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Moon & its Double</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXms2Ci2rG8p9N9gFbQkHW7eqcJZkhlHDL2eCO6algU7IIF71QIx4NXQWsNFGfSyLEFKylJTHpvcqjhh6s0XAH0nYAz0phk7NwyKqWkpiXp5LTtmQ-bsYj-fHniMsOB0qD-Bqol29B9cgm/s1600/To+be+in+the+Wordless.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXms2Ci2rG8p9N9gFbQkHW7eqcJZkhlHDL2eCO6algU7IIF71QIx4NXQWsNFGfSyLEFKylJTHpvcqjhh6s0XAH0nYAz0phk7NwyKqWkpiXp5LTtmQ-bsYj-fHniMsOB0qD-Bqol29B9cgm/s320/To+be+in+the+Wordless.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To Be in the Wordless - www.alexandraeldridge.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We sank into L'Heure Bleu, the Blue Hour, literally and figuratively<i>...between darkness and day, between the night of the soul and its redemption...in Tibetan Buddhism, the hour before dawn is associated with the ground luminosity, or "clear light," arising at the moment of death. It is not a light apprehended through the senses, but it is said to be the radiance of mind's true nature. </i>Carolyn Forche, The Blue Hour<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gEXC45T105eGmJtflpVnppK66W3kKLN9A4-HqyFMAekWoG5GCAKLiujnPleKoYYzIG-FZFl50CJCh1EZf9oRGZ00ocgqFoTABrqt0b5oI8yHfbzqEjJHUD7uZdItip_KoHtj_KxvjdlB/s1600/askthedusk4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gEXC45T105eGmJtflpVnppK66W3kKLN9A4-HqyFMAekWoG5GCAKLiujnPleKoYYzIG-FZFl50CJCh1EZf9oRGZ00ocgqFoTABrqt0b5oI8yHfbzqEjJHUD7uZdItip_KoHtj_KxvjdlB/s400/askthedusk4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vanishing into Indigo Clouds - Charras</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCkZezk3SHpBRxd9K9MoaFujfC2ne1eDnJaZjqsChOPyrbpDJu1_SblcN7F1o0z-2NkW4VdlYApRuG2yMljldQoMxkviqzxADN3eLzFHdNjHbdjAs8-KrKTF73oln7qXYKaRodhdEAESDn/s1600/askthedusk6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCkZezk3SHpBRxd9K9MoaFujfC2ne1eDnJaZjqsChOPyrbpDJu1_SblcN7F1o0z-2NkW4VdlYApRuG2yMljldQoMxkviqzxADN3eLzFHdNjHbdjAs8-KrKTF73oln7qXYKaRodhdEAESDn/s320/askthedusk6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Blue Hour - Charras</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrjlga8-9fTbxGK6Ll_zDZPNm9Bpf65teuNKFgSvhL6-LmDdUu37wdQB6EhxtCy2Xbq4xyewt-6rcEC9J7_8qP5HFiZA-b5GKIBohYqw3gtk0MDIGLtF-Q6FQEqJZ-KTII9itkSYhsqXSJ/s1600/Bluehourorange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrjlga8-9fTbxGK6Ll_zDZPNm9Bpf65teuNKFgSvhL6-LmDdUu37wdQB6EhxtCy2Xbq4xyewt-6rcEC9J7_8qP5HFiZA-b5GKIBohYqw3gtk0MDIGLtF-Q6FQEqJZ-KTII9itkSYhsqXSJ/s400/Bluehourorange.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charras</td></tr>
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I was soaked in beauty, blue wisdom, essence, the God of nature and the nature of God! Then I thought, who am I kidding? I'm in limbo, in the "waiting room of procrastination," Sark talks about. When I arrived home, I found some paper wasps in an armoire.<br />
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Yes, that was it, I was a paper wasp! Most of them die in the winter, except for the Queen who survives by hiding in the cracks and crevices of structures or under the bark of trees. Therefore I must be the QUEEN. Is that what "heaven's messengers" were trying to tell me? <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1DqZfc6LFb5ny4bsQHaDCpXHr0xZ-7ZE9lULEYlnP_OV3_D0Sr-WP9vV80Pg5BMk7ojEVUEh-ztTY0sQyVdl67XqS_ToikdRWcG_TOr-IIUnl5K_E_CEbdK8Ga_CcAIfG-5NOggwZN7o/s1600/wasp-rainbow-12092015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1DqZfc6LFb5ny4bsQHaDCpXHr0xZ-7ZE9lULEYlnP_OV3_D0Sr-WP9vV80Pg5BMk7ojEVUEh-ztTY0sQyVdl67XqS_ToikdRWcG_TOr-IIUnl5K_E_CEbdK8Ga_CcAIfG-5NOggwZN7o/s320/wasp-rainbow-12092015.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what happens when you give them colored paper</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLA4wpudYRqUpoOLk0EOX_A-Y9S3snrXOuzY5DbAsFJR2jdEQ6vcB10aLhDOGA9V0g8DTPXTjJt0YXFF_R6ifuiBZbFYDgijW8WyB7qr1DYl9vHgfQQg8f_f9C1xi8mbGTex-GF83Gi9q/s1600/paper-wasp-12092015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXLA4wpudYRqUpoOLk0EOX_A-Y9S3snrXOuzY5DbAsFJR2jdEQ6vcB10aLhDOGA9V0g8DTPXTjJt0YXFF_R6ifuiBZbFYDgijW8WyB7qr1DYl9vHgfQQg8f_f9C1xi8mbGTex-GF83Gi9q/s320/paper-wasp-12092015.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was getting close to Christmas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In 2012, beekeepers in France were shocked to find their bees creating
blue and green honey. It turned out that the insects were collecting
sugar from the shells of M&Ms at a waste processing plant nearby. The nests are pretty and durable too (and they don't melt in your mouth). <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
A wave of melancholia surged through my veins as I hid in the crevices of La Borderie. Rocky tried to help. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKnckkjENFsWdmn_iaU5CyAEow3CLL7gGIcDiVMk2er2zllkGSCzY4Ghs6vyMxXM876cMpN5MGIgwBnkj9iPSHCatluEwe13tAiwe-_8rmGScF2N0nCng4hTlxXanFYG7ZhZ260MH1Flb/s1600/Rockstar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinKnckkjENFsWdmn_iaU5CyAEow3CLL7gGIcDiVMk2er2zllkGSCzY4Ghs6vyMxXM876cMpN5MGIgwBnkj9iPSHCatluEwe13tAiwe-_8rmGScF2N0nCng4hTlxXanFYG7ZhZ260MH1Flb/s320/Rockstar.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rockstar in Contemplation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I consoled myself by remembering how many of the great poets, e.g. Blake, were overcome by Melancholia. I looked at "Brainy Quote" to see what wisdom Blake had for me. I found this:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the Night. </i> <br />
OK, I can do that, but is Brainy Quote to be trusted? It didn't exactly sound Blakean. </div>
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It wasn't time to eat or sleep yet. Who knows where the time goes...?</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6syxfBkwOHXAWQsF-UqpSgTC6yCUIalSKmJzGRev-0VPiMAb5TJ6NW5XdH54r9-oUkt97B-s7aFev3oC4gA28j8fvRZLJpgvlqShqDrOav1PADCsR02wnyg6pxzdEN2DJGgZ8pmemthW/s1600/Who+knows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6syxfBkwOHXAWQsF-UqpSgTC6yCUIalSKmJzGRev-0VPiMAb5TJ6NW5XdH54r9-oUkt97B-s7aFev3oC4gA28j8fvRZLJpgvlqShqDrOav1PADCsR02wnyg6pxzdEN2DJGgZ8pmemthW/s320/Who+knows.jpg" width="208" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Jodies</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I went back to reading Piero Ferruci's "Beauty and the Soul." He reminded me of the fragility, subjectivity and precariousness of Beauty. It comes as a visitation. As with a state of grace or a moment of enlightenment, it is unpredictable and easily destroyed, repressed, forgotten. Beauty is always subjective, aside from universal masterpieces. The aesthetic experience is vulnerable to social pressures, mood swings, the context in which it happens and the vagaries of memory. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I needed STRENGTH, tenacity, decision making, energy and the willingness to take more risks. I turned to the La Forza card from the Italian Soprafino (very refined) deck designed by Carlo Dellarocca in 1830. He engraved the deck on metal plates, delicately colored by hand with more than 12 colors. This exquisite reproduction, produced by Osvaldo Menegazzi of Milan, Italy was found at a flea market in Santa Cruz by my friend Aleks - it is a treasure beyond measure. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPr3rQaBiuVeDHVmO7wgp5IGmHFw6QMmnWMf8gys-tNIAsqvnBhW0Lrza8kYO0GwfRAI1iJQfh3QTpNctn96iIwnDMXbrC8hVde1tv_wubm7bEZ94NgjIha8msuukDE3rtXf4oWPJPgM5H/s1600/Strength.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPr3rQaBiuVeDHVmO7wgp5IGmHFw6QMmnWMf8gys-tNIAsqvnBhW0Lrza8kYO0GwfRAI1iJQfh3QTpNctn96iIwnDMXbrC8hVde1tv_wubm7bEZ94NgjIha8msuukDE3rtXf4oWPJPgM5H/s400/Strength.jpg" width="205" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Forza - Soprafino, Italian deck</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Later that evening, a Buddhist priest from Boulder, Colorado contacted me for a reading. I snapped into action, lit a candle & dropped the melancholia like a hot rock into a well - A slight hissing, then silence.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRZnlCK349vUeMhZMb-MlmknnHq7dBlXy9kKvxYcF-7HjnDm2dvbhBbEvO3wibrSpQI26ujGqrUB3ieueQ87RGvmhLJaCr0_p4ATcVpJDrg6vplctsYYQogYBr3_ArkF4415sj4uy-ons/s1600/Ask+the+Dusk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGRZnlCK349vUeMhZMb-MlmknnHq7dBlXy9kKvxYcF-7HjnDm2dvbhBbEvO3wibrSpQI26ujGqrUB3ieueQ87RGvmhLJaCr0_p4ATcVpJDrg6vplctsYYQogYBr3_ArkF4415sj4uy-ons/s400/Ask+the+Dusk.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYbdwydRAuTl2M76yjXwuoWDJD1jBNC6zIuorH9-PkkZAng9d77uoWXNz97rNLFvGhQ1AI6NatR4zNXmeh-W-i3d0mAtJg0Il0k5EMSugcSHpFColcLP27mLsZJdPszIbYvQradMh6nGpR/s1600/Chinese+lanterns%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYbdwydRAuTl2M76yjXwuoWDJD1jBNC6zIuorH9-PkkZAng9d77uoWXNz97rNLFvGhQ1AI6NatR4zNXmeh-W-i3d0mAtJg0Il0k5EMSugcSHpFColcLP27mLsZJdPszIbYvQradMh6nGpR/s320/Chinese+lanterns%25281%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese Lanterns</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The next day I saved a bee's life...</div>
<br />
Taking down the laundry, I found a dying Bumblebee
trying to extract nectar from the daisies on my flowered underwear. What
to do, what to do? I remembered a youtube video I saw of a man who
saved a bee with some honey. So I put some honey in a dish with some
flowers and put him into bee rehab at the Ye Olde Wishing Well. A few
hours later, voila, he was revived and buzzed off into the trees. Now I
hope he's "making sweet honey from my old failures."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlAinCPV-DTTYXtWK7Rs0wVVOwVy0sJ0FmIZ4gAeSKrv1GgaFFVP2JkditI-DhVvfdI0ZX0DWt-sRlUeWAGJFojAZ2Gh_EDtFGULjQXxrmXIyvjJaSDoLIZOhzW9vlf2j49B2oxaC3z8c/s1600/bee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlAinCPV-DTTYXtWK7Rs0wVVOwVy0sJ0FmIZ4gAeSKrv1GgaFFVP2JkditI-DhVvfdI0ZX0DWt-sRlUeWAGJFojAZ2Gh_EDtFGULjQXxrmXIyvjJaSDoLIZOhzW9vlf2j49B2oxaC3z8c/s320/bee.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB0Q5hRqa3g0wGfw8upWaE2qalrby_Fl7f7dZ7dAnJ_Q2e51I3rIEeZ0QMsSynx-xqfryWg9JXZvVJE7SO2XoI7VCn1YGf7kUrKutOcaskSS1_21hDvBWAD3LLi-ZCnY_GPmPzONedCzj6/s1600/bee2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB0Q5hRqa3g0wGfw8upWaE2qalrby_Fl7f7dZ7dAnJ_Q2e51I3rIEeZ0QMsSynx-xqfryWg9JXZvVJE7SO2XoI7VCn1YGf7kUrKutOcaskSS1_21hDvBWAD3LLi-ZCnY_GPmPzONedCzj6/s200/bee2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bee on a daisy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVgKSNv6FlnvoHWwMUoZRS5Tw3bdNaE3iA5fIo3ofadPzK8a_6d4vzEkPlHdwscrwVyveq32PmpJlm7uGs2nMGECGNIHZcR18g-2DulZ4I-TJ1N_59ZATQLBLkvwgsAlv8nQuviRXgh7a/s1600/b3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVgKSNv6FlnvoHWwMUoZRS5Tw3bdNaE3iA5fIo3ofadPzK8a_6d4vzEkPlHdwscrwVyveq32PmpJlm7uGs2nMGECGNIHZcR18g-2DulZ4I-TJ1N_59ZATQLBLkvwgsAlv8nQuviRXgh7a/s320/b3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLIZJMEAhRpWrSwHJ7cwnBLwCVLCFOLWZUvRGd0FR8PQwQKuvlVDsd0_Rx2OZPD1h_b8UQJuGPiBs8jw_ItmEmuiACAw6Qe6N8nxi-uk1UbPn-IptwYjTRPFYr_Nz3ScAOEBK9MOD79Bm/s1600/bee4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvLIZJMEAhRpWrSwHJ7cwnBLwCVLCFOLWZUvRGd0FR8PQwQKuvlVDsd0_Rx2OZPD1h_b8UQJuGPiBs8jw_ItmEmuiACAw6Qe6N8nxi-uk1UbPn-IptwYjTRPFYr_Nz3ScAOEBK9MOD79Bm/s200/bee4.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ye olde Wishing Well</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpoaZxzaUS9rcQKAsSsaPnBkagOnbzafA4aFE1ftqT1XJWTcrzjQFTT6EPs250RKO8JgOnMa-ZIaVxLzwQV4A6VEkORA6CxuqFIQi62wNduShPPBkw2HO4hsdJaDSC_R_6yI_khZ_Aw_um/s1600/b5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpoaZxzaUS9rcQKAsSsaPnBkagOnbzafA4aFE1ftqT1XJWTcrzjQFTT6EPs250RKO8JgOnMa-ZIaVxLzwQV4A6VEkORA6CxuqFIQi62wNduShPPBkw2HO4hsdJaDSC_R_6yI_khZ_Aw_um/s320/b5.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flight</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Redemption!<br />
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The Druids brought in the Mistletoe for Christmas, cut from the sacred Oak with a golden sickle. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_Se-nlG0fYLruWCSaQy1Mk04cHBUhSbQGIRpweqa7-wMJQpK-ccoDBBJ5RqV_Wdj0dGqCzjXxS3hY2XpQqYjnk8LP6drXvgSftkN1WDuqSQC7qUyUOgMC17fmc9RMGMnxRbXzDgyg1S8/s1600/Druids+berining+in+the+mistletoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_Se-nlG0fYLruWCSaQy1Mk04cHBUhSbQGIRpweqa7-wMJQpK-ccoDBBJ5RqV_Wdj0dGqCzjXxS3hY2XpQqYjnk8LP6drXvgSftkN1WDuqSQC7qUyUOgMC17fmc9RMGMnxRbXzDgyg1S8/s400/Druids+berining+in+the+mistletoe.jpg" width="395" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Druids Bringing in the Mistletoe - E.A. Hornel & George Henry, 1890 </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEbZ0-MFKQBbM_i1x3vHHW9H_08qrLe-9dI8BKoer5MqlT4gDDrovqHUOr_S77M1i94lYpz8Ko8QWQd8Tx03niefegJJVWWX7Nwx4c6dnNpSlUnqYQ9KzGCEb0dBdZRSu5WZ_s7cZ0kd8S/s1600/Starling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEbZ0-MFKQBbM_i1x3vHHW9H_08qrLe-9dI8BKoer5MqlT4gDDrovqHUOr_S77M1i94lYpz8Ko8QWQd8Tx03niefegJJVWWX7Nwx4c6dnNpSlUnqYQ9KzGCEb0dBdZRSu5WZ_s7cZ0kd8S/s320/Starling.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Gaelic, the name for Starling is Druid</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmYj2fEyyLPET6Py34eJspkNE_KOM8eWQrkzIcFqQJpQcUQA8hgaIGMA12Eoh3RO2hCkeI__nzKFATOBvbsoxvmD_S85BqCtobsSVrOoVKnzYOEHQ-IjPoNVbo7V7Z4siUKSHM_d4cQiKy/s1600/Christmas+statue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmYj2fEyyLPET6Py34eJspkNE_KOM8eWQrkzIcFqQJpQcUQA8hgaIGMA12Eoh3RO2hCkeI__nzKFATOBvbsoxvmD_S85BqCtobsSVrOoVKnzYOEHQ-IjPoNVbo7V7Z4siUKSHM_d4cQiKy/s320/Christmas+statue.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas lunch at Domaine du Chatelard</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">The Harvest of Presence at the end of the year</span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">THE SONG OF THE LARK </span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> ...Whoever listens in this silence, as she listens,<br /> will also stand opened, thoughtless, frightened<br /> by the joy she feels, the pathway in the field<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> branching to a hundred more, no one has explored.</span></span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> What is called in her rises from the ground<br /> and is found in her body,<br /> what she is given is secret even from her.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> This silence is the seed in her<br /> of everything she is<br /> and falling through her body<br /> to the ground from which she comes,<br /> it finds a hidden place to grow<br /> and rises, and flowers, in old wild places,<br /> where the dark-edged sickle cannot go.</span><br />
<br />
Excerpted From:<br />
THE SONG OF THE LARK<br />
In RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems<br />
© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLp-U8uvnj5knQ1sRjIu2poDLF8t7VFJMYC-as6fnKyJebOc_lmYjEjnsegCdcv-U-v7aAXf3IsoyOfqifiJ3BhtyRojCCgxvTC7P-76pJinApCctjQFyG8Xpri62MpBTwUqPl04oY-9_/s1600/Jules+Adolphe+Breton1884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLp-U8uvnj5knQ1sRjIu2poDLF8t7VFJMYC-as6fnKyJebOc_lmYjEjnsegCdcv-U-v7aAXf3IsoyOfqifiJ3BhtyRojCCgxvTC7P-76pJinApCctjQFyG8Xpri62MpBTwUqPl04oY-9_/s400/Jules+Adolphe+Breton1884.jpg" width="330" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Song of the Lark, Jules Adolphe Breton, 1884</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidS4oRzDi2n_ibBv3z-WFdQrOBNwKU9dhcF0A12zfMPXNHPzwn-yeumWipi_89EDisB4BSKA9oNT45gdPoW3KcOC-PLMnBSLI8SIdmsYNS9DWPak7uNpTm8glWgL3txBEqf6aV4em_EkfW/s1600/My+Inner+Harvest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidS4oRzDi2n_ibBv3z-WFdQrOBNwKU9dhcF0A12zfMPXNHPzwn-yeumWipi_89EDisB4BSKA9oNT45gdPoW3KcOC-PLMnBSLI8SIdmsYNS9DWPak7uNpTm8glWgL3txBEqf6aV4em_EkfW/s320/My+Inner+Harvest.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Inner Harvest - Le Petit Lenormand</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #e69138;">On the threshold of a new year, learn from the past, but kiss it goodbye. Threshold comes from "threshing", to separate the grain from the husk. I believe in the present moment from which all else emanates, the rest is camouflage. </span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #e69138;">I was privileged to read the Tarot, the Cartomancy cards for so many souls this past year. Overhearing stories is like listening to people's dreams. I dedicate this particular blog and poem to all my Anam Caras; you know who you are, but especially to Dawn/Aurora, whose story is still unfolding. And to Maria who came all the way from Catalonia for a reading about the future of her country, her language, and her place within that future. I was able to do a reading which met her tremendous burden and destiny. Both of us drinking from that inexhaustible fountain of wisdom in the tarot and in ourselves.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e69138;">And to Alexandra, who read my blog and my ramblings during many a dark night of the soul. You have inspired me more than you can imagine. Finally, to John O' Donohue, who said "God is Beauty" ... he embodied beauty in all its grace, elegance and eternal ways - in his presence I have felt the most alive.</span> <span style="color: #e69138;">"Ziran" - to be what we are.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> FOR YOU </span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I was inside your life before you were born,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">presiding over your birth </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">with hands that cradled your sure destiny,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">as you lept eagerly over the threshold.<br /><br /> You took on so much (this time) <br /> it took my breath away.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><br /> There isn't a corner of your life<br /> I haven't watched over</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Yet, you are still the great mystery to me,<br /> which is as it should be. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><br />I will hold you forever in the hollow of my heart,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">where there are no shadows to hide from. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> RA Martin</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0pABVkPfpBYR4Su1KL3Xv8vzBU7aE89SF_ghjeJ8Wj83caSw6oxG4iz-1agt3jSRmCWHwUSdZsw37Kpb0Rk2I-n8tpU47OvjvjHiAVUkhafhpkrcihyL0V1hUWuVXEvRWhPa7DKOG87gr/s1600/Janika+show.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0pABVkPfpBYR4Su1KL3Xv8vzBU7aE89SF_ghjeJ8Wj83caSw6oxG4iz-1agt3jSRmCWHwUSdZsw37Kpb0Rk2I-n8tpU47OvjvjHiAVUkhafhpkrcihyL0V1hUWuVXEvRWhPa7DKOG87gr/s320/Janika+show.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Expo Jardin d'hiver - Chateau de Nontron</td></tr>
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<br />
My brother says my blogs are too long and he's right! But I can't close out the end of the year or put the keyboard to sleep without a few highlights from the season's Fetes/Tarot events.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5NC9ngDNiga8lkLqK5Kv5IQYFRnwfTd2lqzhwT8tR9-Zsr4mR9G-ZBzzDWEpsufZCg-ARyBx9v8vW3YxeQrcR-QtjHLE8x69UeaJm4DSK8IyaR-VWYHvLXUMJ78LmueqH_eQ48buCIn_/s1600/Voyante.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5NC9ngDNiga8lkLqK5Kv5IQYFRnwfTd2lqzhwT8tR9-Zsr4mR9G-ZBzzDWEpsufZCg-ARyBx9v8vW3YxeQrcR-QtjHLE8x69UeaJm4DSK8IyaR-VWYHvLXUMJ78LmueqH_eQ48buCIn_/s320/Voyante.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Voyante - Lenormand Revolution - Carrie Paris</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTJzfL5PlFx0yiJn_V6qqLDjzSkOmeJx1fgjueGOucmVNVQ5jS4BpEpxNRWtjJYnuD4YtAS07oLTAZoSa-sdi3Zk6F2rIOd9BytuM3wKvfBOhzQJLZOYuOfRZlwl6o8gcjQwqdzbNp8qjU/s1600/Joker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTJzfL5PlFx0yiJn_V6qqLDjzSkOmeJx1fgjueGOucmVNVQ5jS4BpEpxNRWtjJYnuD4YtAS07oLTAZoSa-sdi3Zk6F2rIOd9BytuM3wKvfBOhzQJLZOYuOfRZlwl6o8gcjQwqdzbNp8qjU/s200/Joker.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Joker</td></tr>
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<br />
Sunrise, frosty morning on the way to Abjat-sur-Bandiat, following the
river Bandiat, past shivering hay bales with their jackets on, Beautiful ribbon of a river, 91 km, it
flows thru Haute-Vienne, Dordogne and Charante. The land was taking a
rest.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise on the Bandiat</td></tr>
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<br />
Arrival - French garcon, Claude, showing off for me. Janika with her
gorgeous handmade hats, Linda, intrepid organizer for Bansang Hospital,
like a Moose caught in the headlights; the table is set: $2025 raised
for Bansang Hospital in Gambia. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janika, textile artist and hat maker</td></tr>
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<br />
Open for business, Susan brings me an Angel. Un botte de carrotes &
legumes from another client, Jean-Marie gets her heart's desire. A
steady parade of questions all day long, ending with Sasha and the
sunset.<br />
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<br />
Pre-dawn, only the thumbnail moon to light my way
to the Twilight Event - the misty village enrobed in silence; an Artisan "hewn in a wild
workshop".<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbksK2cmJIWNKrqGv6WIBiMir0QL78oZjtbMOf2oEsfmPXB2rWkOa4xnVZgn319BhJOSFz9_Vf3eL2ZeOtdZ3maQxFPuhbNBh9Z0FZoX9B7TiDjK1XlI6hDTFkHhRICsoDdpMtr4gRjhIm/s1600/Thumbnail+moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbksK2cmJIWNKrqGv6WIBiMir0QL78oZjtbMOf2oEsfmPXB2rWkOa4xnVZgn319BhJOSFz9_Vf3eL2ZeOtdZ3maQxFPuhbNBh9Z0FZoX9B7TiDjK1XlI6hDTFkHhRICsoDdpMtr4gRjhIm/s320/Thumbnail+moon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRxpYLRx4MSEKU6MeNnnsYg9SqBF7RQilBLFE8_Ly1odcj7Q82_EjRXD3n-S_50xEBupU37wBya8IxsBLsyxoERnT5FUAtfzz33_krHP2ezTeQrIp3yjJE5Tww43sngpTgv6ShMC0Fkcd/s1600/Charras.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRxpYLRx4MSEKU6MeNnnsYg9SqBF7RQilBLFE8_Ly1odcj7Q82_EjRXD3n-S_50xEBupU37wBya8IxsBLsyxoERnT5FUAtfzz33_krHP2ezTeQrIp3yjJE5Tww43sngpTgv6ShMC0Fkcd/s320/Charras.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charras</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDSBEEh7oHzf2DRIgmlOnI4zcNG8IH1A-CBnciRUAK0Q9ZxLDFWDnvoQtBlkjbBkPRH45d4IPQRV6Pbwpps2QMfLvkcLV0a-8Gy-oat7hE2HeumMNWiyGSy3gv660RxZNJ3CXJtj_bbut/s1600/Artisan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDSBEEh7oHzf2DRIgmlOnI4zcNG8IH1A-CBnciRUAK0Q9ZxLDFWDnvoQtBlkjbBkPRH45d4IPQRV6Pbwpps2QMfLvkcLV0a-8Gy-oat7hE2HeumMNWiyGSy3gv660RxZNJ3CXJtj_bbut/s200/Artisan.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artisan - Charras</td></tr>
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St. Paul de La Roche - Fundraiser for Twilight Retirement Home for Dogs <br />
Arrival - tarot under the mistletoe, sharing the day with Leslie, the
Jordie elf, dancing with Snoopy to the fab Candy Stripes, "the embers of
longing still kindled in her heart," scones & brandy
butter, chicken pot pies and mince pies galore; $2,311.50 raised for
les chiens. Open hearts and open pocketbooks in this magical french
village.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLovI_a-H1HPXil2ucgxpxbWPyN9CvSq3jV5q8LGFJDG7mTzsFSSHsKVCShpmuOsIHjt27oT-TxnjnF3Chgi2BVpjZXqPFMDB_gbkq6yzVe9cFIpRdB0PeZg836nGcAOzjiKm6llAyqS5/s1600/St.+Paul+La+Roche.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLovI_a-H1HPXil2ucgxpxbWPyN9CvSq3jV5q8LGFJDG7mTzsFSSHsKVCShpmuOsIHjt27oT-TxnjnF3Chgi2BVpjZXqPFMDB_gbkq6yzVe9cFIpRdB0PeZg836nGcAOzjiKm6llAyqS5/s200/St.+Paul+La+Roche.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Paul de La Roche</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leslie - Jordie Elf</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinC0a8pcKTpto8yKmu2MK7bKJyX-51mkKGne1m0f9fSvPmeRHPGrrTg5BI8KDrskhdZPqg855HEdk_bsW01OxMUtvc3Tw4ZbmW-WI_Wqq5VVbuDyWDyZLSdFZadW6A04QjQkz7R4NExSDr/s1600/RA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinC0a8pcKTpto8yKmu2MK7bKJyX-51mkKGne1m0f9fSvPmeRHPGrrTg5BI8KDrskhdZPqg855HEdk_bsW01OxMUtvc3Tw4ZbmW-WI_Wqq5VVbuDyWDyZLSdFZadW6A04QjQkz7R4NExSDr/s200/RA.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snoopy et Moi</td></tr>
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Fete Noel at Aubeterre-sur-Dronne, my fourth time reading in one of my favorite villages. Left Charras in the dark, village lights, the moon lighting our way. The
alchemy of the sun-filled day. Build it and they will come...Ludovic
Trarieux, Dreyfusade, pioneer of International Human Rights, presiding
over the square and my Donkey Shed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE3ikcdTkB8xhaX0nIL5emSO0sArThn4e_ru2sl-i6eLlWTINa4zRWgtTWBktl2qmF6rqaq62LcUnnrivGvy-0XO2IlTZDVBdCQKXza3IBqxGiplyBXDfIenBohXy9_o9Vd2VmVjmxLTM6/s1600/Leaving+Charras.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE3ikcdTkB8xhaX0nIL5emSO0sArThn4e_ru2sl-i6eLlWTINa4zRWgtTWBktl2qmF6rqaq62LcUnnrivGvy-0XO2IlTZDVBdCQKXza3IBqxGiplyBXDfIenBohXy9_o9Vd2VmVjmxLTM6/s320/Leaving+Charras.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Charras</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghZl8jdzcz8MnlQJnAm2kyqtPEY6bv8S4HecWY_98QmqUy1CS4VttHTKqKYdwMeoFWMedpuxXVColBAfclutGvm-W6DDtdPrB0lt0pDhcWYMSSV6iaUic5pSWuMFfictRMBroKDFUxvsmI/s1600/Donkeyshed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghZl8jdzcz8MnlQJnAm2kyqtPEY6bv8S4HecWY_98QmqUy1CS4VttHTKqKYdwMeoFWMedpuxXVColBAfclutGvm-W6DDtdPrB0lt0pDhcWYMSSV6iaUic5pSWuMFfictRMBroKDFUxvsmI/s200/Donkeyshed.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Beloved Donkey Shed</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Village gives us the best Le Petite Dejeuner</td></tr>
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Long day, the last reading - Warm soup from Nina/organizers while we pack up, Claude,
the chocolatier, took a photo - driving home in the dark, the moon still
lighting our way...Queen of Swords, compliments of <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=627679257" href="https://www.facebook.com/carrie.paris.3">Carrie Paris.</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTDpOkJci58E8ernJ6F2_ZLN1FhtD3KPa5WLjtgYmSFwCle8UaV9pl0GZki1DJ2yZwWeR6YM_B6Qumk8QolzX7MtDTC1WxrdVVmJ5mH9V9bkI9oYOv0NXUoj2R5bYVIlL7m4SlCoOCvlx/s1600/moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTDpOkJci58E8ernJ6F2_ZLN1FhtD3KPa5WLjtgYmSFwCle8UaV9pl0GZki1DJ2yZwWeR6YM_B6Qumk8QolzX7MtDTC1WxrdVVmJ5mH9V9bkI9oYOv0NXUoj2R5bYVIlL7m4SlCoOCvlx/s200/moon.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>And everything there is made of light <br />And the days keep going by </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i><br />Here they come <br />Here they come <br /> Here they come </i></span></div>
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<i>In difficult times, you should always carry something beautiful in your mind</i> - Blaise Pascal</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinOEy_lfKo474xxetdX8S6Y__u-YMTDIiOnAUWaJ7GUWlv6P-gZUJwBWbJEV2Bw7s9xfZmZSLmSUhM8RCI2EYfruEuqXyB9kfdwrCCOudJVuI9kpAWn7tR6alLdz1_KIv1ZoRu_IY6j1PO/s1600/NewMoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinOEy_lfKo474xxetdX8S6Y__u-YMTDIiOnAUWaJ7GUWlv6P-gZUJwBWbJEV2Bw7s9xfZmZSLmSUhM8RCI2EYfruEuqXyB9kfdwrCCOudJVuI9kpAWn7tR6alLdz1_KIv1ZoRu_IY6j1PO/s320/NewMoon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Moon</td></tr>
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<br />Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-18520224870712811202015-12-31T17:43:00.000-08:002016-01-13T08:57:59.596-08:00FARAWAY & NEARBY - Mystery of a History: AURORA<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Désolé, there is no Part II - <i>The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there</i>. L.P. Hartley</span><br />
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> .<span style="color: #e69138;"><i>..as if with the future we could replace the past<br />as in the childhood of terror and holiness as light or the retreat of light </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><i><span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="color: #e69138;"><i>- </i>Blue Hour, Carolyn Forche</span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I WONDER AND I WANDER</span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Through a chink too wide comes in no wonder - Patrick Kavanaugh</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJgcHzWr8zCg67nLSvivkMLKn6l3H-74EzOy6ov2f327o57CdFjmPhKDER3Jopl0QEQoCrzMyNHvSHpYSk05PhOOJZk8G1HhQMeGeAw4hEqTMMK_pIOme_bdcXpYpkXy8rLgMlKf3vybX/s1600/Secretlifeofstatues5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJgcHzWr8zCg67nLSvivkMLKn6l3H-74EzOy6ov2f327o57CdFjmPhKDER3Jopl0QEQoCrzMyNHvSHpYSk05PhOOJZk8G1HhQMeGeAw4hEqTMMK_pIOme_bdcXpYpkXy8rLgMlKf3vybX/s640/Secretlifeofstatues5.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madrid, Spain - October, 2015</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Time</span> <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> This line is the present.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><br /> The line you've read is now past<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> It fell behind after being read.<br /> The rest of the poem is the future,<br /> which exists outside your<br /> awareness.<br /> <br /> The words<br /> are here, whether you read them<br /> or not. And nothing on earth<br /> can change that.<br /> <br /> Joan Brossa, Catalan Poet, Playwright 1919-1998<br />
(After the Civil war, Brossa experimented with Surrealist</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span class="text_exposed_show">automatic
writing. He supported himself selling banned books </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span class="text_exposed_show">and doing magic
tricks: throughout his life he maintained magic </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span class="text_exposed_show">and poetry were closely
allied.)</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-PZDIP516oadXyPXkgcJUo0CnV-wFn7crfkelNH7wP-b_cXRSAEWoLa1OEZhIX7nRlGJlDHGU46ydS26XMAwP3oOfZH6fa6PGVzN3CmYneVIi1oc8477QUfbItzb1utC1TZRyTyTj09T/s1600/Punt+magic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-PZDIP516oadXyPXkgcJUo0CnV-wFn7crfkelNH7wP-b_cXRSAEWoLa1OEZhIX7nRlGJlDHGU46ydS26XMAwP3oOfZH6fa6PGVzN3CmYneVIi1oc8477QUfbItzb1utC1TZRyTyTj09T/s320/Punt+magic.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Punt Magic, Barcelona, Oct. 2015</td></tr>
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<i>Stories are compasses and architecture; we navigate by them, we build our sanctuaries and our prisons out of them, and to be without a story is to be lost in the vastness of a world that spreads in all directions like arctic tundra or sea ice. To love someone is to put yourself in their place, we say, which is to put yourself in their story, or figure out how to tell yourself their story.</i><br />
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<i>Which means that a place is a story, and stories are geography, and empathy is first of all an act of imagination, a storyteller's art, and then a way of traveling from here to there...We think we tell stories, but stories often tell us, tell us to love or to hate, to see or to be blind...Sometimes the key arrives long before the lock. Sometimes a story falls in your lap. </i>Rebecca Solnit from The Faraway and Nearby*<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpEb2n91PPjbCTG86dtXblZUTq5oGuxwzit8P8WXI04U__SBLLeVeSd9clluUn8yEpgNLJ1bhTVJtNxw9Gb0srGxC0AcNJtKYvRcbdcRYVuOr_pkZYT-dCw31SALS1bwjUo09LtkaHnLjj/s1600/Antique+skeleton+key.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpEb2n91PPjbCTG86dtXblZUTq5oGuxwzit8P8WXI04U__SBLLeVeSd9clluUn8yEpgNLJ1bhTVJtNxw9Gb0srGxC0AcNJtKYvRcbdcRYVuOr_pkZYT-dCw31SALS1bwjUo09LtkaHnLjj/s320/Antique+skeleton+key.jpg" width="143" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Antique Skeleton Key - Ashmolean Museum, Oxford</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSA5chli-yVHMme5ndU5Blx7AFscIaPunXcfPyiSvsWkYgvn05tGuUag3yEHR-slyCZ2RuthRLpUpf4ulLf7gVwxiBMN42c-tSOtVoqmzls4vO7Gq4wZLw107TelfqvcC7eH5X52yGkMHB/s1600/Locked+door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSA5chli-yVHMme5ndU5Blx7AFscIaPunXcfPyiSvsWkYgvn05tGuUag3yEHR-slyCZ2RuthRLpUpf4ulLf7gVwxiBMN42c-tSOtVoqmzls4vO7Gq4wZLw107TelfqvcC7eH5X52yGkMHB/s320/Locked+door.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Locked Door - Unknown Artist</td></tr>
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Sometimes you look through a keyhole; sometimes there is no lock -</div>
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You just turn the knob.<br />
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<i>In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.</i><br />
â William Blake </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbcTdybZwlCBNXolVQEeVfjDjDz5Q-TqQH02Bf5UP-g6BWcK8UU0IydRcmXyPqjvE9mG0tw6lYkTrT6-MOzbl2USZfrnf_8esk1G6IEVRx-LG_DEGZo8Ci6EaqzhCNMBhvsBg_hnfmhKU/s1600/door+knocker+Paris+through+my+lens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAbcTdybZwlCBNXolVQEeVfjDjDz5Q-TqQH02Bf5UP-g6BWcK8UU0IydRcmXyPqjvE9mG0tw6lYkTrT6-MOzbl2USZfrnf_8esk1G6IEVRx-LG_DEGZo8Ci6EaqzhCNMBhvsBg_hnfmhKU/s400/door+knocker+Paris+through+my+lens.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eugene Atget - Paris Through My Lens</td></tr>
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<br />
This story fell into my lap. It is my friend's story. Her name is Dawn - Aurora, the mythical Roman Goddess, the first appearance of daylight. We took a journey together, a Tarot journey to Spain, to see if we could retrieve some of the missing pieces of her story - to turn the key in the lock. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0u1UI7YNPCXSsXUXRsbEFtkqXlad1b9p30Ox0SauxaKvCBx-HsP45ngy9uWA__tcMd_FZEfjbeY_6O7QQB9HZt1i4Os4B-M9417j1BeFqw8uq1HjxI7qlksuDNBpEOsC6OQUbAgNmkw8s/s1600/The+mental+traveler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0u1UI7YNPCXSsXUXRsbEFtkqXlad1b9p30Ox0SauxaKvCBx-HsP45ngy9uWA__tcMd_FZEfjbeY_6O7QQB9HZt1i4Os4B-M9417j1BeFqw8uq1HjxI7qlksuDNBpEOsC6OQUbAgNmkw8s/s400/The+mental+traveler.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mental Traveler - Alexandraeldridge.com </td></tr>
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<br />
But before that could happen, we hunted down some magic, dug up a
few artists, devils, saints, Geishas, poets and storytellers (+ sheep) in Barcelona. A city where the peeps make merry -
laugh, love & live in the streets; a place where no one sleeps, least of all us, bedding down on one of the noisiest streets in the city. It wasn't Las Ramblas, but perhaps its twin sister, Las Noiselas. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTdiug2wN0oEGP0aI6DFGOX6CQ6SZbiwb9IXeiADjyQVLOZp54-CSuDxkFBFCbQvg6_uZq1LtYcvy-zVnxYmXVSoHpzKHMzwWfUthcrIy_5n6YL6hpoDvrCbIWu1LCGT70LBJc3EEv8uC/s1600/Gaudimetal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTdiug2wN0oEGP0aI6DFGOX6CQ6SZbiwb9IXeiADjyQVLOZp54-CSuDxkFBFCbQvg6_uZq1LtYcvy-zVnxYmXVSoHpzKHMzwWfUthcrIy_5n6YL6hpoDvrCbIWu1LCGT70LBJc3EEv8uC/s320/Gaudimetal.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aurora - La Pedera, Casa Mila, Gaudi Barcelona</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIw3Z9UisBrMshMzSdP1367xH1vHFW6M0DQJJb2zQPXr35fIQscAsuy4Yj8qDfmVD2rhN-PBSf516txo3R22HduMtUNaOMewlkmBNGxnRL7S24kau_SGQJ95tL7IZyzxHeb3BtF4PjSsmZ/s1600/Rudy2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIw3Z9UisBrMshMzSdP1367xH1vHFW6M0DQJJb2zQPXr35fIQscAsuy4Yj8qDfmVD2rhN-PBSf516txo3R22HduMtUNaOMewlkmBNGxnRL7S24kau_SGQJ95tL7IZyzxHeb3BtF4PjSsmZ/s200/Rudy2.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rudy - Ditto</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qW_SI1VdGFLhWEbA-C6jaxJqSx702A1iEo-BsJxWDk0_VUdeXdAe6RD6O7Yb90sOcUOsoWKBy35d2cVBSDPjSgLbRxIICatBVtslkP5yeCZWdJVHvN2ZpgJJscwCa8flj91mYk-q9Rkx/s1600/Geisha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qW_SI1VdGFLhWEbA-C6jaxJqSx702A1iEo-BsJxWDk0_VUdeXdAe6RD6O7Yb90sOcUOsoWKBy35d2cVBSDPjSgLbRxIICatBVtslkP5yeCZWdJVHvN2ZpgJJscwCa8flj91mYk-q9Rkx/s320/Geisha.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Las Noiselas</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJunIeyvzXlxGJOkiIMJURmZ0pjNjCUjt53h1dMElJLhnn7HYMD_DrApqDuFTeGu6aATeUOuXn_v3lBWMLA4LXxG-5dYXtxh0C4hWpWBkmF-lIJ3Ule391RYnWpvzXYFsN9AnkcY89G92_/s1600/Las+ramblas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJunIeyvzXlxGJOkiIMJURmZ0pjNjCUjt53h1dMElJLhnn7HYMD_DrApqDuFTeGu6aATeUOuXn_v3lBWMLA4LXxG-5dYXtxh0C4hWpWBkmF-lIJ3Ule391RYnWpvzXYFsN9AnkcY89G92_/s200/Las+ramblas.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Las Ramblas</td></tr>
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Finally tracked down Punt Magic in Barcelona. Quite a fancy pants Tarot
center. Loads of decks, crystals, Buddhas & Professor Rossanna (is
that Rossanna Rosanna Danna?), with a wall full of diplomas presiding, she had a
steady stream of clients of all stripes, from suits to nuts. I didn't
make an appt. - I already knew what she was going to say. I bought a crystal from Brazil, kissed the Buddha and wondered if my career would be enhanced with Professor in front of my name? Voila!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgdgzTAWH8LHojblYOhOagFyr0RAF_AxG0rPaP85LdAyijtKHgiIucMcJ18DATCkNbRWGfDCUySzMeNOT86zSSzm22GudI5PehOriy-WwJB5FBZ0C18omVUskq-o_p7gfV0UmUDut7ttcq/s1600/Rossana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgdgzTAWH8LHojblYOhOagFyr0RAF_AxG0rPaP85LdAyijtKHgiIucMcJ18DATCkNbRWGfDCUySzMeNOT86zSSzm22GudI5PehOriy-WwJB5FBZ0C18omVUskq-o_p7gfV0UmUDut7ttcq/s320/Rossana.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Professor Rossana - Punt Magic, Barcelona</td></tr>
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A friend had told us to visit the Abbey at Montserrat, where the Benedictine monks would feed us bread & figs with honey drizzled on top. That didn't happen; they were busy with ora et labora, their rhythms of work & prayer. And we didn't wait in line for hours to kiss the Virgin's hand - the Black Madonna, but I did find out why she is black. Not because she is African or the dark color of the wood, simply darkening over time.<br />
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<i>I slept with faith and found a corpse in my arms on awakening: I drank and danced all night with doubt and found her a virgin in the morning</i>. Aleister Crowley, The Book of Lies. <br />
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Some local wag said "a country with a black virgin and a white Gorilla, (Floquet de Neu) aka Snowflake) can't be all bad." I <i>would</i> have waited in line for hours to see the Albino, Snowflake, but he died in 2003. Look at those hands, the nobility of that creature. Just as well, it would have broken my heart to see him in a zoo.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszYn2KQsBhgZfCu2YxiHCYI56V20ft4b94SK9xEhh1yow5lRTvnMLM12yHTd8Xb8wYoS1Qjk2i7Zg3A_zAA-YRu3kUVBX_DNVnQWlhRzg_kmgoF2CZwEIvXM8gD6WQFQDVibnN9L9TxZP/s1600/800px-Statue-Madonna-von-Montserrat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszYn2KQsBhgZfCu2YxiHCYI56V20ft4b94SK9xEhh1yow5lRTvnMLM12yHTd8Xb8wYoS1Qjk2i7Zg3A_zAA-YRu3kUVBX_DNVnQWlhRzg_kmgoF2CZwEIvXM8gD6WQFQDVibnN9L9TxZP/s200/800px-Statue-Madonna-von-Montserrat.JPG" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black Madonna - Abbey Montserrat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvxW06ClAtu0RKuuGDn3c0v0X5FSk11_Q3wXqc-jD0SI9-cUtTrebN5NkjIF27IJXV84l4mC2chMUPYX_ifdaFnFlnnujTv47idqmHx6JGY2T5_3e58Mdw__eFRREmx3g4_HfFaOMj0k-u/s1600/snowflakes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvxW06ClAtu0RKuuGDn3c0v0X5FSk11_Q3wXqc-jD0SI9-cUtTrebN5NkjIF27IJXV84l4mC2chMUPYX_ifdaFnFlnnujTv47idqmHx6JGY2T5_3e58Mdw__eFRREmx3g4_HfFaOMj0k-u/s320/snowflakes.JPG" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Floquet de Neu - Snowflake, Catalunya Zoo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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You can see Heinrich Himmler's signature in the visitors book, 1940/41. He thought the holy grail was hidden there somewhere. And Wagner used the mountain as a backdrop for his opera, Parsifal.<br />
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The day soared when we took the Funicular up, up, up, eye to eye with the eagles.<br />
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<div class="text_exposed_show" style="text-align: center;">
<i>No, my heart is not asleep.<br /> It is awake, wide awake.<br /> Not asleep, not dreamingâ<br /> its eyes are opened wide<br /> watching distant signals, listening<br /> on the rim of vast silence</i>.<br />
Antonio Machado</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjelE1nBC-lI6txRnsm7gPfuJRhoo5bN-ecE8yRcARUtGcGZTB0pH4EtknavFHZAWuuNNvycN0u1OVij-SH7Bqoj3HYZ92igtCxVczsufWDcyNizYyvEdcO-teCg4tiuqcv3YUyjcPxCdRE/s1600/Mont+Serrat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjelE1nBC-lI6txRnsm7gPfuJRhoo5bN-ecE8yRcARUtGcGZTB0pH4EtknavFHZAWuuNNvycN0u1OVij-SH7Bqoj3HYZ92igtCxVczsufWDcyNizYyvEdcO-teCg4tiuqcv3YUyjcPxCdRE/s400/Mont+Serrat.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Montserrat - Spain, October 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
Yes, it's a tourist trap, with its trinkets, overpriced food, and Selfie sticks, but redemption came in the form of a legend. That of Saint Jordi
(St. George), told to us by our mesmerizing Italian guide, Bella Bella (not her real name, but it fits). In a nutshell, St. George slew the dragon (stand-in for Satan) to save a Princess. He then plucked a red rose to bestow upon her from a rose bush which sprouted on the exact spot where George had spilled the dragon's blood. There are many versions of this legend, but in Bella Bella's recounting, the roses were growing out of St. George's chest, where he had been gored by the dragon. I haven't been able to verify her story, but it's so much more romantic! The day is commemorated on April 23rd in Catalunya, the equivalent of St. Valentine's Day. <i>Life is the flower for which love is the honey </i>- Victor Hugo<br />
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By some loose association pattern, which I am frequently guilty of, I was reminded of Yukio Mishima's last book, "The Decay of the Angel"; his literary suicide, dagger ripping open his abdomen. Mishima was heavily influenced by Hans Christian Anderson's fairy tales, especially,<i> The Rose-Elf which threw deep shadows
over my heart, only that beautiful youth who, while kissing the rose given him as a token
by his sweetheart, was stabbed to death and decapitated by a villain with a big knife.</i> And hey, we always thought it was only the thorns that were to be avoided. Mishima's characters were always throwing themselves after their destinies & aren't we all doing that? But seldom with Yukio and George's style - the stuff that legends are made of. Amor Fati. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6pzUrrDMsz6NHlGKzvJ76gDSKr1DtzczC9Odts7Is2ypRDXYiKMRRoBHMJZ5R6I9BwkCRmrs6VAj4Jdhn3oXITe65m5Pgo8ngksjATqBYlUEkeNZCF3IsrdsK6vTpahjrYV1yeUz4V8k/s1600/TheDecayOfTheAngel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6pzUrrDMsz6NHlGKzvJ76gDSKr1DtzczC9Odts7Is2ypRDXYiKMRRoBHMJZ5R6I9BwkCRmrs6VAj4Jdhn3oXITe65m5Pgo8ngksjATqBYlUEkeNZCF3IsrdsK6vTpahjrYV1yeUz4V8k/s200/TheDecayOfTheAngel.jpg" width="139" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Decay of the Angel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i>As is quite clear, the enchanter interests me more than the yarn spinner or the teacher.</i> Vladamir Nabakov<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwlIfFigJJB-uI5sxjV9bms2sxwsegYLCSzPRBwBkX0zm8uanIMmolFn_UijUFgh3mSdf0n8-jE8S4G81qwrDlMdgRAPbpMpGCL0JSuxVoaOrChehdLuzP4FlEmBkoJ3UVfGMFtJ73mbI/s1600/Saint-George.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwlIfFigJJB-uI5sxjV9bms2sxwsegYLCSzPRBwBkX0zm8uanIMmolFn_UijUFgh3mSdf0n8-jE8S4G81qwrDlMdgRAPbpMpGCL0JSuxVoaOrChehdLuzP4FlEmBkoJ3UVfGMFtJ73mbI/s320/Saint-George.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saint-George by Picasso - Abbey Monserrat</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Nel Mezzo - Midway upon our journey, Shepherds/Drovers led 2000 sheep thru the center of Barcelona & Madrid to protest the loss of ancient grazing and migration rights. That's a lot of sheep. Our own pilgrimage took on a deeper meaning. How much time do we all have left? Questions for scientists, poets, and tarot cards (or just ask yourself that question).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdnvphIFeOYmDpCAmykrnhMjpYvs_Q3f9baeWmlp02l6Km_NYZ9BJUx6Yx65fda2VDqml2jyYE44Ffqboo8SAr0iuD36Wp7yzC929svSqekVURp7gFEfVrisEefHniMIXgXTCMpbhi1Ar/s1600/drovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXdnvphIFeOYmDpCAmykrnhMjpYvs_Q3f9baeWmlp02l6Km_NYZ9BJUx6Yx65fda2VDqml2jyYE44Ffqboo8SAr0iuD36Wp7yzC929svSqekVURp7gFEfVrisEefHniMIXgXTCMpbhi1Ar/s400/drovers.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Centre de Madrid - Photo Daniel Ochoa de Olza - October, 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Alert and unsettled, I thought about the sheep grazing back home in France, and the ones I met in Cumbria in July, free and easy they seemed then, with their pastures and precipices.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqaBVR997Ckhvo6vD5FTJ5pQH0TnCZ64O298FAjSPE-gUIfjgprLQG9qLDlq8-LFVqb_Jd80nPwH2wswX82FrJQ1eVu2MKhOBoYenPfpWx9IDEBM697ZkyDlx2e01HZ_XPZiNg_uVCmGBX/s1600/sheep2+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqaBVR997Ckhvo6vD5FTJ5pQH0TnCZ64O298FAjSPE-gUIfjgprLQG9qLDlq8-LFVqb_Jd80nPwH2wswX82FrJQ1eVu2MKhOBoYenPfpWx9IDEBM697ZkyDlx2e01HZ_XPZiNg_uVCmGBX/s200/sheep2+%25282%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cumbria, Lakes Dist. July, 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
But the visions were sliding into home plate. Like the Cumaean
Sibyl, Amalthaea, who lived in a cave in the Phlegraean Fields, I
scribbled down my prophesies, hers were on Oak leaves, mine in a little
blue notebook...both scattered to the winds.<br />
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Many moons ago a palm reader told me: you have "the finger of doubt." I think I was also <i>born with the map of calamity in my palm. </i>I see good things <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">tout le temps</span></span>, but now acres of sorrow stretched out onto the Plazas as far as the eye could see. Later there were more witnesses (<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">les témoins).</span></span> <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjel7qkHeUSBNiZh7C6R7Rr0KMLrMjc1Iwqw6hgGs1SjPNHsGcV77pBUeOy5pf6k_fkeNIg5dSU_3UpRlphQWnqXQdsuEk1_d5RghMi5wPjIt3XHg4RirlntM2IJK_cO7ndPV7_GANbIDQ9/s1600/newborn+lamb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjel7qkHeUSBNiZh7C6R7Rr0KMLrMjc1Iwqw6hgGs1SjPNHsGcV77pBUeOy5pf6k_fkeNIg5dSU_3UpRlphQWnqXQdsuEk1_d5RghMi5wPjIt3XHg4RirlntM2IJK_cO7ndPV7_GANbIDQ9/s320/newborn+lamb.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Newborn Lamb, Combiers, 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Gaudi distracted us with his sparks of holiness.<br />
<i>As if you were on fire within. The moon lives within the lining of your skin.</i> Pablo Neruda<br />
<br />
On the rooftop/light show at Casa Mila, we experienced Gaudi's adroit unification of heaven
and earth. His homes were meant to be desired, touched, embraced. Our flesh and bones melted into his casas. For Aurora it was the metal work that made her heart thump. I could see her with a welding torch and helmet.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9K5m48WWCUu6ertUX82hrJil9nMTH8UnnJyOoJ1bsfBPEFLzpyhRF9fa_g9rGfITAsWgV5SO8Tmrc1A7mAJfiE9XEiGCsZ6kx0a3bcgLH3Mv01j_O6f9iFStfIb5sdSctHOUiQ6O4uBm/s1600/La+Pedrera-Casa+Mila.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9K5m48WWCUu6ertUX82hrJil9nMTH8UnnJyOoJ1bsfBPEFLzpyhRF9fa_g9rGfITAsWgV5SO8Tmrc1A7mAJfiE9XEiGCsZ6kx0a3bcgLH3Mv01j_O6f9iFStfIb5sdSctHOUiQ6O4uBm/s640/La+Pedrera-Casa+Mila.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Perdrera, Casa Mila - Barcelona, light show at midnight, October 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqGZ8KAM0cVBIYdIAUlnrZSF5nIlGK-qqG57fBwi1VRyX7oGOxTeY1YIcaMlDHj2ZD45GoiL7fIBGgejujCgTF2UkjmcXdvom76chmbQ4fl0Cc4P8AiDS6X-9fAdwJVxgi06ZoVhGtKX4/s1600/dawn+la+Perdrera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzqGZ8KAM0cVBIYdIAUlnrZSF5nIlGK-qqG57fBwi1VRyX7oGOxTeY1YIcaMlDHj2ZD45GoiL7fIBGgejujCgTF2UkjmcXdvom76chmbQ4fl0Cc4P8AiDS6X-9fAdwJVxgi06ZoVhGtKX4/s320/dawn+la+Perdrera.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Pedrera - Metalwork</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnO0KEguXXirP7r-rguzmiBKjsm4cVd_oVsseLAcukv_-7w5D608md-i4S2Lf2tD70siLTX_UhB9_FXi19t6uAi03DMa-mRPy_ctbdQIsaAK-E0mP6-gNrqmWy6EnnK-kZy8L0hwIppPCA/s1600/dawnonrooftop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnO0KEguXXirP7r-rguzmiBKjsm4cVd_oVsseLAcukv_-7w5D608md-i4S2Lf2tD70siLTX_UhB9_FXi19t6uAi03DMa-mRPy_ctbdQIsaAK-E0mP6-gNrqmWy6EnnK-kZy8L0hwIppPCA/s320/dawnonrooftop.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawn/Aurora touching the Barcelona sky</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr3H_NkasL3p2p7PhB0_qRBzCHpFJSaUZVlAt0gM_MInvQfQoTYErbyaiJh2lWwK8IrpEaWcwigfwwk0j6CjUP3GCbJeq8L4uzku5TH3kUzE_9468y1L0VmacJqnPW-q-51vQbvjPSjc0u/s1600/rooftop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr3H_NkasL3p2p7PhB0_qRBzCHpFJSaUZVlAt0gM_MInvQfQoTYErbyaiJh2lWwK8IrpEaWcwigfwwk0j6CjUP3GCbJeq8L4uzku5TH3kUzE_9468y1L0VmacJqnPW-q-51vQbvjPSjc0u/s320/rooftop.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Rooftop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDhL7U4NkjepVSLrGdi9vdAkz1gFOUXOSFxjONgk1Eos10FQldknp8hSAtBToOY9K3Zso3-9nby7Y0v9f5LtFlpeK9EAXaeLGc1kZdrcghuV4OHSxv3bJSz4603nM9cAgW1YXtavN3YU5l/s1600/welding+torch.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDhL7U4NkjepVSLrGdi9vdAkz1gFOUXOSFxjONgk1Eos10FQldknp8hSAtBToOY9K3Zso3-9nby7Y0v9f5LtFlpeK9EAXaeLGc1kZdrcghuV4OHSxv3bJSz4603nM9cAgW1YXtavN3YU5l/s1600/welding+torch.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girl with a torch</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Nothing is art if it does not come from nature - Antoni Gaudi<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-KGF38tdo4oaYlR45ClS5oFYPrGY22i1usXJ0RjcxUasVE18TSCViMZtXgfdeYhDly5I2PlNUayHY5rwmEkdPcLkgc2jbnMfWnO3AWVKAHjT8QHKnHl-AzUQ_z0_wAhdY-ifdgLQ18Usa/s1600/Gaudi2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-KGF38tdo4oaYlR45ClS5oFYPrGY22i1usXJ0RjcxUasVE18TSCViMZtXgfdeYhDly5I2PlNUayHY5rwmEkdPcLkgc2jbnMfWnO3AWVKAHjT8QHKnHl-AzUQ_z0_wAhdY-ifdgLQ18Usa/s320/Gaudi2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nautilus - Casa Mila</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5oELb3RnQyAJFL-5sg4dCtWtmnukR190Nn2mtm-tCkP1EAl3PrdNj_KZMcvN6YH4e5VoSNKSkz1PlQekgnDwEt5PASTJmsfNzRNZaR5e3-MYQBFv98CPPpHgMSc9ZcoExcTJTw1NgsUf/s1600/pythonskin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5oELb3RnQyAJFL-5sg4dCtWtmnukR190Nn2mtm-tCkP1EAl3PrdNj_KZMcvN6YH4e5VoSNKSkz1PlQekgnDwEt5PASTJmsfNzRNZaR5e3-MYQBFv98CPPpHgMSc9ZcoExcTJTw1NgsUf/s320/pythonskin.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Python Skeleton - Casa Mila</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvehPeWnus3kwKDtHpMHBq_n42CI8ZmwituKGMEohCulX3ou6eJ6bVcHHw_PpqkprmFMftj8auan4L2XznIyURQ-3nFZbYmhekplPOe8v-QcAVXZkXtgp7JoW5s1UA66j3e6U8UqZiQ0nD/s1600/Gaudi3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvehPeWnus3kwKDtHpMHBq_n42CI8ZmwituKGMEohCulX3ou6eJ6bVcHHw_PpqkprmFMftj8auan4L2XznIyURQ-3nFZbYmhekplPOe8v-QcAVXZkXtgp7JoW5s1UA66j3e6U8UqZiQ0nD/s400/Gaudi3.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Light Show on the Rooftop</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I walk and walk and walk some more. My feet are killing me...I get lost, I lose my bearings. I try to learn some Spanish. Dawn finds me blisterpacks. I buy new shoes. My feet still hurt. <br />
<br />
Between Barcelona and Madrid, I find gardens, saints & statues, angelic cellists, a guy with part of his head missing. I pull tarot cards while watching idle Spanish housewives, I drink lots of Cafe Ibera with condensed milk...feel even more dislocated. Dali creeps me out. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Rya7k1U1zk0XJL8K7l8l-f0pQQgcyywOA0fVzCwJbqLT9Y4q5D5nBfQLHzBF55D80y5XNf7m1Sm1TuTDmD8OboEE6WU_XRAIKuJtvZea6qf5MqF2VSFtpkqaI0MuZoq02R9U24YkO5ra/s1600/Dali.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Rya7k1U1zk0XJL8K7l8l-f0pQQgcyywOA0fVzCwJbqLT9Y4q5D5nBfQLHzBF55D80y5XNf7m1Sm1TuTDmD8OboEE6WU_XRAIKuJtvZea6qf5MqF2VSFtpkqaI0MuZoq02R9U24YkO5ra/s320/Dali.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salvador Dali</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
"And then there was St. Kevin and the Blackbird...One turned up palm is
out the window, stiff as a crossbeam when a blackbird lands, and lays in
it and settles down to nest...now he must hold his hand like a branch
out in the sun and rain for weeks until the young are hatched and
fledged and flown...a prayer his body makes entirely, for he has
forgotten self and forgotten bird and on the riverbank forgotten the
river's name." Seamus Heaney from "The Spirit Level".<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymza0xOwORAFqH-L9jTsbXOkihWWh3H9AJBaTlZ7SWnUOf2gsBFyK4RH0l-s3j2XiZ56zUe42wz6nbov8kubFWnnxfj9PeRwWi4AJqqTt5EsW1qkzom4yD0fJzf0tkZp45TlLd9yGtUcP/s1600/St.+Kevin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymza0xOwORAFqH-L9jTsbXOkihWWh3H9AJBaTlZ7SWnUOf2gsBFyK4RH0l-s3j2XiZ56zUe42wz6nbov8kubFWnnxfj9PeRwWi4AJqqTt5EsW1qkzom4yD0fJzf0tkZp45TlLd9yGtUcP/s320/St.+Kevin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4J5AKqXthMRYTMcixtyCC1R8W4zpA0EfDJWze7ELBZGFJWwKgf1E3LiS9fZGC43RxUqszwju9DELuk-zIhLMR7j7wWdBtTL5kmED2AhX966vnQM3P3J-dqpbZcpYb_MzLKA46lyTu7_f/s1600/pigeons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4J5AKqXthMRYTMcixtyCC1R8W4zpA0EfDJWze7ELBZGFJWwKgf1E3LiS9fZGC43RxUqszwju9DELuk-zIhLMR7j7wWdBtTL5kmED2AhX966vnQM3P3J-dqpbZcpYb_MzLKA46lyTu7_f/s400/pigeons.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plaça de Catalunya</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6LJ8DO2iAyLQYvNFFU7iKd7jPdO0ScLYHyhhe633UDF58OgeBaJgGuDGsGSIW045zhbVlx6ocbgoApg1_I5V4G5foVLfCEHVHr-TfuoibYHnE8Ng0Xbuvx85z-7fffiGIISZHG0wUNfN/s1600/Angeltorch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6LJ8DO2iAyLQYvNFFU7iKd7jPdO0ScLYHyhhe633UDF58OgeBaJgGuDGsGSIW045zhbVlx6ocbgoApg1_I5V4G5foVLfCEHVHr-TfuoibYHnE8Ng0Xbuvx85z-7fffiGIISZHG0wUNfN/s320/Angeltorch.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I limp to the Japanese Botanical Gardens to leaven the endless kilometers of commerce, concrete & cars all around me; to smell, touch, feel, hear: chlorophyll, children's garden of squashes, leaves and bark, bird song, Spanish guitars, old couple from 1959. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Io2aB8kmRSCkUI8Wu4WgywThlQht2N8yeJk-PYmQBHrCL_x6rVMzZOx5rjBnyVZGGh9zeTBzeevPckIJ5spd_DNeFZ5dZDzNkibnLnlDplk3Uo2uBgrRSQIHGuxnucUuVcM_RO_3kTj1/s1600/Jardin+Botanico.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Io2aB8kmRSCkUI8Wu4WgywThlQht2N8yeJk-PYmQBHrCL_x6rVMzZOx5rjBnyVZGGh9zeTBzeevPckIJ5spd_DNeFZ5dZDzNkibnLnlDplk3Uo2uBgrRSQIHGuxnucUuVcM_RO_3kTj1/s320/Jardin+Botanico.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real Jardin Botanico - Madrid</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpbPxup3ZMjwH7TUdMHln4-UqzMs7YLQpyOKMephS2A9itKxemHagqZhCeDkP8HXkmd-T0Lmoj48LUoz9dHS5ar2_lfQl_Cgl-RgVMv8JrBxn6-p7EAT6HtAeKRY1T-acXG3zyTkm5CKP/s1600/jardinme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpbPxup3ZMjwH7TUdMHln4-UqzMs7YLQpyOKMephS2A9itKxemHagqZhCeDkP8HXkmd-T0Lmoj48LUoz9dHS5ar2_lfQl_Cgl-RgVMv8JrBxn6-p7EAT6HtAeKRY1T-acXG3zyTkm5CKP/s320/jardinme.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Japanese Gardens - Madrid</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOFx2UorAgj-izMDqN87wi1Cs20J6-Mqj4T6TunUShf13a7-NvuA1RsKJv1WgSYcuA23Xmf4MNYZ697Wx9xpoYM7eKp_A2TtTZrQAzYIeUZ8MUBx6Amra0uCTZB283JUhAlZQVGoJf1RCx/s1600/Statue+botanica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOFx2UorAgj-izMDqN87wi1Cs20J6-Mqj4T6TunUShf13a7-NvuA1RsKJv1WgSYcuA23Xmf4MNYZ697Wx9xpoYM7eKp_A2TtTZrQAzYIeUZ8MUBx6Amra0uCTZB283JUhAlZQVGoJf1RCx/s400/Statue+botanica.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Real Jardin Botanico - Madrid</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3TGbQ06pHgsWgtLFt1AU-F6JNCOewHKALpeauoyjNIsSMe-fC6ntjGCpWG_-w4i_BUJVhWqvk6nHrxrwX5nSwiJuEQU3esnOq_g7tVfRKQ5WwauUP90TxMXBDXOBs3iNmaNqLKO57Xh8u/s1600/RAB%2526w+botannical+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3TGbQ06pHgsWgtLFt1AU-F6JNCOewHKALpeauoyjNIsSMe-fC6ntjGCpWG_-w4i_BUJVhWqvk6nHrxrwX5nSwiJuEQU3esnOq_g7tVfRKQ5WwauUP90TxMXBDXOBs3iNmaNqLKO57Xh8u/s200/RAB%2526w+botannical+garden.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Japanese Gardens</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRU4NejDwMFMTe3Dq2wIz-DqFfNxacXIkiQ_bklIuEBUpuFuDUcRW2kInHY3HHgRUsThv4AhoQJRgUrI7KrHjpTC7-uinE6ij0iP2w8Daxpy4pq-_fUSZWnA4KKGVIIiYLq901FqqOahJ/s1600/Raven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRU4NejDwMFMTe3Dq2wIz-DqFfNxacXIkiQ_bklIuEBUpuFuDUcRW2kInHY3HHgRUsThv4AhoQJRgUrI7KrHjpTC7-uinE6ij0iP2w8Daxpy4pq-_fUSZWnA4KKGVIIiYLq901FqqOahJ/s320/Raven.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quoth the Raven...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucddKHSrBc9TYoTdg2Adlhn1gc1gCSs3gUudxRk4yGWFezQz-ReObLGpg4Tir9rQMkgcuVddT6Q7ZHNSdeyXCYKjNp7fYiOdX5P7hTc0nSNVbDeNyGJm_LI2YIgrpbH8OE2GTtTsVZ5QG/s1600/musicguitarsgarden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgucddKHSrBc9TYoTdg2Adlhn1gc1gCSs3gUudxRk4yGWFezQz-ReObLGpg4Tir9rQMkgcuVddT6Q7ZHNSdeyXCYKjNp7fYiOdX5P7hTc0nSNVbDeNyGJm_LI2YIgrpbH8OE2GTtTsVZ5QG/s200/musicguitarsgarden.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spanish Guitars</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbiJ8PKtZrCrg70K6DMd14828TWNBBbSYQB0FODP2FgGOTOXokNvogKRQtAZtUHqHg_SAGQbm262aLRHI0vMm0nkzhkh9kmc6g-aZ8w7aNmBC2YGHkh87JJwufrIg-hyiu5CuMCYCravQ_/s1600/children%2527sgarden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbiJ8PKtZrCrg70K6DMd14828TWNBBbSYQB0FODP2FgGOTOXokNvogKRQtAZtUHqHg_SAGQbm262aLRHI0vMm0nkzhkh9kmc6g-aZ8w7aNmBC2YGHkh87JJwufrIg-hyiu5CuMCYCravQ_/s400/children%2527sgarden.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grown by tiny hands and big hearts</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Hdcp5tpqTmM44MOvVgbJq5BxrJ5hE9WTucH7mnnS9hwKeHaRW9UzAKnutdg4Xqrh8yJcY26mgis45tA_2xBdXN6KpBd0AHn0G7cABrirKdMCUftWV-4DL7mJDsc1pMHJO_R3XQp0i6Oi/s1600/Autumnleaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Hdcp5tpqTmM44MOvVgbJq5BxrJ5hE9WTucH7mnnS9hwKeHaRW9UzAKnutdg4Xqrh8yJcY26mgis45tA_2xBdXN6KpBd0AHn0G7cABrirKdMCUftWV-4DL7mJDsc1pMHJO_R3XQp0i6Oi/s320/Autumnleaves.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autumn Leaves</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheFcRYu01H4xvy6r9SiwncweG1ofR9kW3_kodBebU_P45PvBRhk6lySCWs2rKLoPO5jixnT-gl7b33VxdACcRyexKN-ZtwBXjLuL14ZugbZcXJQJV0v8zmY_WTEefqlcpPoXpBfHPxMiEp/s1600/gardenoldpeople.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheFcRYu01H4xvy6r9SiwncweG1ofR9kW3_kodBebU_P45PvBRhk6lySCWs2rKLoPO5jixnT-gl7b33VxdACcRyexKN-ZtwBXjLuL14ZugbZcXJQJV0v8zmY_WTEefqlcpPoXpBfHPxMiEp/s400/gardenoldpeople.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grow old with me - the best is yet to be</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I find the soul of Spain in the eyes and music of this cello player
behind the Gothic Cathedral, El Gotica, like Pablo Casals in Paris 1958<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmqThX7nClnpmy_ItmY7aM7HM6naNwnZhyphenhyphen6I-m5rotDKhcmLO1esFZOarb-JKVtziRqANeAy13vAEwk06BbO2kPmMmcPIjhVj8TLhdaWZDFi_tNbJbkozsOXgdkjJv1OLtnvx1NMnf-3q/s1600/cellist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmqThX7nClnpmy_ItmY7aM7HM6naNwnZhyphenhyphen6I-m5rotDKhcmLO1esFZOarb-JKVtziRqANeAy13vAEwk06BbO2kPmMmcPIjhVj8TLhdaWZDFi_tNbJbkozsOXgdkjJv1OLtnvx1NMnf-3q/s400/cellist.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barcelona, Barri Gotic</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjipqey6XcIzig7DCPSjW0rk6ZCg2lBaPu3yLEMlJ90Y7nxaCtYFKn6RefZiudGBHei2lqVfWrittbn4JWtl5DJuzD8kky4OckmElj1xtp5eLn4FZyOaievcIdIuWWYaM4zdFhVM_h7o8DX/s1600/Pablo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjipqey6XcIzig7DCPSjW0rk6ZCg2lBaPu3yLEMlJ90Y7nxaCtYFKn6RefZiudGBHei2lqVfWrittbn4JWtl5DJuzD8kky4OckmElj1xtp5eLn4FZyOaievcIdIuWWYaM4zdFhVM_h7o8DX/s320/Pablo.jpg" width="249" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pablo Casals, Paris, 1958</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiODBHRJreQczumuz7XpdpX82SpNIyhZuezFEdUXc-eeNKe_FZlXSL2m69CnT4olTll64gfDYGamaqez5EgqEBgY2G5NeaLXgMgZLzkjE9qR8wmjMn4k5LpIoFQs77Pt7jhHpQrUl7p4i-3/s1600/headmissing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiODBHRJreQczumuz7XpdpX82SpNIyhZuezFEdUXc-eeNKe_FZlXSL2m69CnT4olTll64gfDYGamaqez5EgqEBgY2G5NeaLXgMgZLzkjE9qR8wmjMn4k5LpIoFQs77Pt7jhHpQrUl7p4i-3/s200/headmissing.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guy with missing head</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcz6z_a3RMlX44D5VXv0qk4Cgk18e2kCSIml6vJBqtyNauToILms7Mz7Sfp23LocpkSmfSoBx0qZ1LjtM_J2dE9FiD-zusrsvAzp3MA3jg1Ni9B5WpDqYxwL4ET151JHFa51jVdajLBhkX/s1600/Tarotreading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcz6z_a3RMlX44D5VXv0qk4Cgk18e2kCSIml6vJBqtyNauToILms7Mz7Sfp23LocpkSmfSoBx0qZ1LjtM_J2dE9FiD-zusrsvAzp3MA3jg1Ni9B5WpDqYxwL4ET151JHFa51jVdajLBhkX/s200/Tarotreading.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cross card, second from left - Suffering</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: right;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinnUl3htwOidaWV2scUsmw1yE7Hfo_r00gX_gHW9bsR9qk355sAWgCyQAcX_fkn_PRqpMel2QBix2fAGXejI3-uJn4ZjovsKJDRd2AyJBSQV9e-uT0-Wi5nOh8t4_j5cAgLwEHyjnatqw3/s1600/Spanishhousewives.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinnUl3htwOidaWV2scUsmw1yE7Hfo_r00gX_gHW9bsR9qk355sAWgCyQAcX_fkn_PRqpMel2QBix2fAGXejI3-uJn4ZjovsKJDRd2AyJBSQV9e-uT0-Wi5nOh8t4_j5cAgLwEHyjnatqw3/s400/Spanishhousewives.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spanish women at Starbucks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWwG8oKyhPzlHHLXA7kvKZp4oXj1tzC4XASauHIM647a5rdWqFXZnP-RmAOiS0a2c9AdDLN3iTJ12Uy4fiuL86Bw1r2SQp8Swm7WqfkbAaUowFXKSzK6WJMYz-axkQRDug_gKxzDWfQ_D/s1600/Spainbook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWwG8oKyhPzlHHLXA7kvKZp4oXj1tzC4XASauHIM647a5rdWqFXZnP-RmAOiS0a2c9AdDLN3iTJ12Uy4fiuL86Bw1r2SQp8Swm7WqfkbAaUowFXKSzK6WJMYz-axkQRDug_gKxzDWfQ_D/s320/Spainbook.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cafe Ibera</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I went back to our Air B&B and stared at the Museum of Communism poster, the one decorative touch in the whole place. And our hosts were two gay guys, go figure. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWaqeRUjB0V1DTVEErRbQzaJHuTqbGnNAZLmiU02SWH9IXTl2tt2zsG4QupHWbOWKRTPXQMgsfUIkWB0Fkn5ziLNRQP-M4HgHxibYpNpLkFIClIbuBKgJ2f3la1pfBIpidyfdvMyzxfuQB/s1600/museumofcommunism.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWaqeRUjB0V1DTVEErRbQzaJHuTqbGnNAZLmiU02SWH9IXTl2tt2zsG4QupHWbOWKRTPXQMgsfUIkWB0Fkn5ziLNRQP-M4HgHxibYpNpLkFIClIbuBKgJ2f3la1pfBIpidyfdvMyzxfuQB/s320/museumofcommunism.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What is the message here?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
If I couldn't locate myself in time and space, how was I going to help Dawn solve the mystery of her history? I pulled out Rebecca Solnit's "Field Guide to Getting Lost" and randomly landed on this:<br />
<br />
Solnit quotes the twentieth-century philosopher-essayist, Walter Benjamin: <i>Not to find one's way in a city may well be uninteresting and banal. It requires ignorance - nothing more. But to lose oneself in a city - as one loses oneself in a forest - that calls for quite a different schooling.</i><br />
<br />
Solnit then goes on to say: <i>To lose yourself: <b>a voluptuous surrender</b>, lost in your arms, lost to the world, utterly immersed in what is present so that its surroundings fade away. In Benjamin's terms, to be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery. And one does not get lost, but loses oneself, with the implication that it is a conscious choice, a chosen surrender, a psychic state achievable through geography. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Oh, I could have kissed her! <br />
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And I knew it already, how the world finds you & opens its heart to you - if you let it. I felt the key slip into my hand.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Confessions</div>
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Wanting to know all</div>
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I overlooked each particle</div>
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Containing the whole</div>
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Unknowable.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Intent on one great love, perfect,</div>
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Requited and forever,</div>
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I missed love's everywhere</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Small presence, thousand-guised.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And lifelong have been reading</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Book after book, searching </div>
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For wisdom, but bringing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Only my own understanding.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Forgive me, forgiver,</div>
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Whether you be infinite omniscient</div>
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Or some unnoticed other</div>
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My existence has hurt.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Being what I am</div>
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What could I do but wrong?</div>
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Yet love can bring</div>
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To heart healing</div>
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To chaos meaning. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Kathleen Raine </div>
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<br />
We rent a car to track down Aurora's roots in Madrid, and the doors began to creak open, starting at Europcar, after all the other rental places slammed the door in our face. En fait, their rates were too high, so we slammed the door in their faces too (pas vraiment).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_TMP2exrmJk0gwiN3fi9eTFGmxqjndwFUhm4ZqhuForyozwx4E4-kJDXz1MV9gLvk4fatylTcSOuvlp6yEpANaoMlyECQ65DIU6pgYNexM8wCCL1RbjCERrUi8pjkYnQEkQIwdibpI9fO/s1600/Santiago.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_TMP2exrmJk0gwiN3fi9eTFGmxqjndwFUhm4ZqhuForyozwx4E4-kJDXz1MV9gLvk4fatylTcSOuvlp6yEpANaoMlyECQ65DIU6pgYNexM8wCCL1RbjCERrUi8pjkYnQEkQIwdibpI9fO/s320/Santiago.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Europcar - Madrid</td></tr>
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<br />
What more favorable omen could you find to start a pilgrimage than this?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKeHdgBXmbR7kaxMuAPBVoAVPEq7JVtJN8vhMhvV2AIykYOtUtittUIhkDSj0ynwXMHlj22EBzs-lScWak8lWpu8_NLiRcWV7RZxzIQmxwk30e_AvQFxj4MqvKF-9YFwbrphaq90XOmtRk/s1600/Santiagolopez.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKeHdgBXmbR7kaxMuAPBVoAVPEq7JVtJN8vhMhvV2AIykYOtUtittUIhkDSj0ynwXMHlj22EBzs-lScWak8lWpu8_NLiRcWV7RZxzIQmxwk30e_AvQFxj4MqvKF-9YFwbrphaq90XOmtRk/s320/Santiagolopez.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our angelic agent, Santiago Lopez</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPe8w6pulgYaoWgIucH7DISX44GWl02tc-aKkZkfTH2GFUitKi2yEcEr9hZie3OON2qSkEPiDXY8qXr24DAa-JWU-8rb6ZqnqwSXHtRpCaBSruK2PQ-7kIt_lpvFIy1QJJR-5UY3VqcY0F/s1600/Aurorahousecard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPe8w6pulgYaoWgIucH7DISX44GWl02tc-aKkZkfTH2GFUitKi2yEcEr9hZie3OON2qSkEPiDXY8qXr24DAa-JWU-8rb6ZqnqwSXHtRpCaBSruK2PQ-7kIt_lpvFIy1QJJR-5UY3VqcY0F/s320/Aurorahousecard.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dawn with "La Maison" - The House Card</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkv4VJuuSYdo0TgsY7HezE8hQmCt-eoWTA2rEc8yetG8Q8U8E-e5-1y5lIx8hW4IUXLWEki4Vz6o_HB2-l8z8We-Du69UiFBiBZ9tfz1s4y8-qk_ja3b6iDxne2Hp6Ip8PudMwMldo_7KU/s1600/Be+Happy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkv4VJuuSYdo0TgsY7HezE8hQmCt-eoWTA2rEc8yetG8Q8U8E-e5-1y5lIx8hW4IUXLWEki4Vz6o_HB2-l8z8We-Du69UiFBiBZ9tfz1s4y8-qk_ja3b6iDxne2Hp6Ip8PudMwMldo_7KU/s320/Be+Happy.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our favorite Cafe in Madrid</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguSv5qICZzl36LXuXyzy2BfWQXFUOPdfm0wUUNImScjTY_8VACRnreSprfVdvyMXm-VSa7VzpE46hMl4EAuiB57pQtMnZlVx6Q8c9LW-BQRwRW6yWCLx5heC561J1KZsixQ20WVLAGe5xy/s1600/Calle+De+Agatha+Christie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="93" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguSv5qICZzl36LXuXyzy2BfWQXFUOPdfm0wUUNImScjTY_8VACRnreSprfVdvyMXm-VSa7VzpE46hMl4EAuiB57pQtMnZlVx6Q8c9LW-BQRwRW6yWCLx5heC561J1KZsixQ20WVLAGe5xy/s320/Calle+De+Agatha+Christie.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madrid, Spain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Santiago</span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> </span></h3>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">
</span><span style="color: #f6b26b;">The road seen, then not seen, the hillside<br />
hiding then revealing the way you should take,<br />
the road dropping away from you as if leaving you<br />
to walk on thin air, then catching you, holding you up,<br />
when you thought you would fall,<br />
and the way forward always in the end<br />
the way that you followed, the way that carried you<br />
into your future, that brought you to this place,<br />
no matter that it sometimes took your promise from you,<br />
no matter that it had to break your heart along the way:<br />
the sense of having walked from far inside yourself<br />
out into the revelation, to have risked yourself<br />
for something that seemed to stand both inside you<br />
and far beyond you, that called you back<br />
to the only road in the end you could follow, walking<br />
as you did, in your rags of love and speaking in the voice<br />
that by night became a prayer for safe arrival,<br />
so that one day you realized that what you wanted<br />
had
already happened long ago and in the dwelling place<br />
you had lived in before you began,<br />
and that every step along the way, you had carried<br />
the heart and the mind and the promise<br />
that first set you off and drew you on and that you were<br />
more marvelous in your simple wish to find a way<br />
than the gilded roofs of any destination you could reach:<br />
as if, all along, you had thought the end point might be a city<br />
with golden towers, and cheering crowds,<br />
and turning the corner at what you thought was the end<br />
of the road, you found just a simple reflection,<br />
and a clear revelation beneath the face looking back<br />
and beneath it another invitation, all in one glimpse:<br />
like a person and a place you had sought forever,<br />
like a broad field of freedom that beckoned you beyond;<br />
like another life, and the road still stretching on. </span><br />
<div class="12point">
- David Whyte<br />
from <i><a href="http://www.davidwhyte.com/pilgrim.html">Pilgrim</a></i><br />
©2012 Many Rivers Press
</div>
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<br />
NEXT TIME: Searching for Truth - REVELING IN THE MYSTERY<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA-NlRWKwZvQmxJzQkRu5BI9N9Jr6Y6fulKtsdUgcmTaECroqR6jqQ6_U_Vyh4XwP4yjo8G0Hw0R0Yz6rzfMd0zcM0eO9tlSFxffkQYji6i_hqqGJazGTSsx04rz-nhr-AAiH7W6w1RYaA/s1600/Karmic+Key+of+Destiny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA-NlRWKwZvQmxJzQkRu5BI9N9Jr6Y6fulKtsdUgcmTaECroqR6jqQ6_U_Vyh4XwP4yjo8G0Hw0R0Yz6rzfMd0zcM0eO9tlSFxffkQYji6i_hqqGJazGTSsx04rz-nhr-AAiH7W6w1RYaA/s320/Karmic+Key+of+Destiny.jpg" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lenormand Revolution - Carrie Paris, Roz Foster</td></tr>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-41091320137410401112015-10-16T02:20:00.000-07:002015-10-17T13:24:18.496-07:00EATING & DRINKING SUMMER SUNLIGHT Part I - The Harvest of Presence & History of a Mystery from the Renaissance<br />
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<i> The intimacy of Dreams does not exclude the sharing of them</i>*</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZf8hyiZ3mLH74vKb3SoA6pgtG2gpiC5yjt3kspTqIKFizYn_-MraFDbXgw0A_gqlThlZ_MEmS562SsaKysgXgw5eLhgTVMqKW8RePfhNQxVKbB96M1q6bchTELKYdbq7R5AgBuRghcob/s1600/Dot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZf8hyiZ3mLH74vKb3SoA6pgtG2gpiC5yjt3kspTqIKFizYn_-MraFDbXgw0A_gqlThlZ_MEmS562SsaKysgXgw5eLhgTVMqKW8RePfhNQxVKbB96M1q6bchTELKYdbq7R5AgBuRghcob/s400/Dot.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 2015 - pedaling thru the Charente</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFJ02Z52-i2hfQB2d1p7hYA7qUOu7vMFiMzv2iDUOUkgdV3Nc6WGSzQlIumyeuVYP8BGUJ3Adb2H4jZCT96bnTs-0HWwOpcTYI_MrquUEKhVe4ryZih-EoGDXCaqkZSgRrkjkau_lhZyl/s1600/Biking+to+Feuillade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuFJ02Z52-i2hfQB2d1p7hYA7qUOu7vMFiMzv2iDUOUkgdV3Nc6WGSzQlIumyeuVYP8BGUJ3Adb2H4jZCT96bnTs-0HWwOpcTYI_MrquUEKhVe4ryZih-EoGDXCaqkZSgRrkjkau_lhZyl/s400/Biking+to+Feuillade.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Biking to Feuillade - August 2015</td></tr>
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*I think the above quote comes from the dream-meister, Carl Jung, but I like what my brother, Mark wrote in a poem, even more: <i>Our dreams explain us</i>, as do our vows...<br />
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">ALL THE TRUE VOWS:</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> All the True Vows<br /> are secret vows,<br /> the ones we speak out loud<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> are the ones we break.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> There is only one life <br /> you can call your own<br /> and a thousand others<br /> you can call by any name you wantâŠ</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
âŠ</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Excerpt from âAll The True Vows<br /> From RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems<br /> Many Rivers Press. ©David Whyte</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Did the summer end, fade, vanish or disappear? I pondered the difference between "to disappear" and "to vanish". French wasn't much help because both words have the same translation:<i> <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">Ă disparaĂźtre</span></span></i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"> (to disappear).</span><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"> </span></i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"> I like the word "vanish," - it has an air of mystery about it, like Angela Lansbury in <i>The Lady Vanishes.</i></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"> "Disappear" seems more sinister; "ending" too final, and "fading" (like a pair of</span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"> old jeans, or the ubiquitous rose), doesn't cut it. Kevin said he thought it was a temporal distinction, like being kidnapped, you'd disappear pronto. But if you were a shooting star, you'd flash across the sky for 20km, a streak of light, vanishing into the void. Anyhoo, we have Indian Summer now, which was defined by unusually warm weather in late Autumn, but also means: "a period of happiness or success late in life." Bonjour Indian Summer! But we haven't even had the first frost yet, so it can't truly</span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span style="color: #f6b26b;"> be Indian summer, must be the late-in-life happiness descending. When I leave this incarnation, they will say "she just vanished." </span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"> The Vanishing Summer in Review - Harvesting Sunlight and Presence</span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VWR_pqzMi-Ti5d_ffLlXYV9rKQXNXkbF-dzJ-UhPDKqJ7zeb3lfnsTJLBShA_oewCkvIlzrGPV8KdmnqEK4ImAXDw7yghp2ThSn880HeatBcIrRDMFTLClvciXuJHhHbspg-Uw2ojaL8/s1600/Oiseaux+sisters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VWR_pqzMi-Ti5d_ffLlXYV9rKQXNXkbF-dzJ-UhPDKqJ7zeb3lfnsTJLBShA_oewCkvIlzrGPV8KdmnqEK4ImAXDw7yghp2ThSn880HeatBcIrRDMFTLClvciXuJHhHbspg-Uw2ojaL8/s320/Oiseaux+sisters.jpg" width="303" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My arty friends, the Oiseaux sisters - www.oiseauxsisters.com</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><b>AUGUST </b>- Realm of New Beginnings, the eighth month of the Gregorian Calendar, the Dog Star Days, the majestic, the increaser, the venerable; Augustus, Rome's first Emperor; Augusta, Roman Empresses, (title bestowed upon women of Imperial dynasties) e.g., Ceres, Juno, Minerva, connected to augury; Rome said to have been founded with the "august augury" of Romulus. From the French, Auguste, and the Latin, Augustus; eight, my lucky number, and St. Augustine, who said "Beauty is lifesaving." </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02cqQITDaraHQz6E6hesDRg8P7CrMLQ81YbbTlwjIgBBbqawJ4eWlBkToywER4BFOFQ9ItuLyeLz0u21po9GUevP0ds-a-frN7Pvj0GyZy8LNqa9SGq3WbyQa_E3eVb834au8Aj0VZd5i/s1600/5august1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj02cqQITDaraHQz6E6hesDRg8P7CrMLQ81YbbTlwjIgBBbqawJ4eWlBkToywER4BFOFQ9ItuLyeLz0u21po9GUevP0ds-a-frN7Pvj0GyZy8LNqa9SGq3WbyQa_E3eVb834au8Aj0VZd5i/s400/5august1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allegory of August: Triumph of Ceres, Palazzo Schifanoia, Fresco - Ferrera, Tarot Travel Guide<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> </span></td></tr>
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<i>Beauty is a plank amidst the waves of the sea </i>- St. Augustine - De Musica*</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">N.C. Wyeth: Next Morning Came a Clear Day - A Hot Day, 1918</td></tr>
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*All gratitude and appreciation to my friend Jeanne: artist, writer, Greek/Roman scholar who has shared with me the golden threads of thought about Helen's beauty & about 'The Beautiful Measure' Embodied - the inspiration of Kazantzakis, Camus, Plato, Augustine, Bowra & Scarry, culling years of impeccable study, illustrated with her own artistry, poetic soul. It is from her that I learned of what <i><span style="color: #e69138;">Homer, Plato and many other thinkers repeatedly describe as BEAUTY as a GREETING. At the moment one comes into presence of the Beautiful, it greets you, lifts, welcomes you. It invites you to search for something beyond itself--Beauty is somehow bound up with the Immortal & with Truth, because Truth abides in the Immortal sphere</span> - </i>Jeanne Benion<br />
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The spectacle & beauty of the Feu d'Artifice at the Fortress of Villebois-Lavalette, celebrating the Feast of St. Augustine from Martine's terrace, was a pyromaniac's wet dream. How can anyone resist fireworks? even if they substituted quiche and terrines for hot dogs and baked beans. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjULHK_sYPtfao3hS0fVlT0AZIYhmO2S_a3mzcwhv3KA0vLWU0czdZ-hCOX8Dr12Vwkgsz5fQbr0nKD4JjOKPQEX4R3vahhb4P-OGe9i9JioVthA1YApiL9i9q_zg_kZ-OGm0xDOQ4CfwXy/s1600/Sunsetfortress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjULHK_sYPtfao3hS0fVlT0AZIYhmO2S_a3mzcwhv3KA0vLWU0czdZ-hCOX8Dr12Vwkgsz5fQbr0nKD4JjOKPQEX4R3vahhb4P-OGe9i9JioVthA1YApiL9i9q_zg_kZ-OGm0xDOQ4CfwXy/s400/Sunsetfortress.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fortress at Sunset - August 30, 2015</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHUI6MX43obVPcdG49Jdujh-doTkAcDO7JSUs-i8wCdeTvXhyphenhyphenmXczL5rGbWX4qgHrmwRiNXUZ7v98JGh8L8Z_ZbOzXPzJ3dy6IDNXWLQC0tj3IOjh9RZwGXy8YqeA6X0vwYuZIwv-Sx_Pb/s1600/Supermoon2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHUI6MX43obVPcdG49Jdujh-doTkAcDO7JSUs-i8wCdeTvXhyphenhyphenmXczL5rGbWX4qgHrmwRiNXUZ7v98JGh8L8Z_ZbOzXPzJ3dy6IDNXWLQC0tj3IOjh9RZwGXy8YqeA6X0vwYuZIwv-Sx_Pb/s200/Supermoon2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Super Moon that night</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4YFtXabnlUfETYPe3oXgiGuSszqZTRiIYMDnZb3FVEtizWlbjvwIM_2o0KpAghzoHneiaNAOzNj_eX3o8Ee-73cr43DkAHNjMvstSD5P5gEO5_8qr4qTv1jr-KDkQazeyQNjjMlQsFSMg/s1600/fullmoon7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4YFtXabnlUfETYPe3oXgiGuSszqZTRiIYMDnZb3FVEtizWlbjvwIM_2o0KpAghzoHneiaNAOzNj_eX3o8Ee-73cr43DkAHNjMvstSD5P5gEO5_8qr4qTv1jr-KDkQazeyQNjjMlQsFSMg/s200/fullmoon7.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9GGZ718OG9gTv4Xny5jgPutCqD2SPw5e5DS48lrgXDtdKpMYOtqSK0iJgRwkhnpTT3vQHDQzKsX4FTOg9lYkcrgxWwMw4CzRYsXeJqJPtHv0hcCFqpi33v1cs07PAlntBTw7_MgzcEzuk/s1600/Firewoksfortress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9GGZ718OG9gTv4Xny5jgPutCqD2SPw5e5DS48lrgXDtdKpMYOtqSK0iJgRwkhnpTT3vQHDQzKsX4FTOg9lYkcrgxWwMw4CzRYsXeJqJPtHv0hcCFqpi33v1cs07PAlntBTw7_MgzcEzuk/s400/Firewoksfortress.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first fireworks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4HYswfmP9Rr8u9g0hHAxyjosSMC5Q39QAo8eFjwK181NSROralcvJRO-BJ0p3NBg5AK044oMathnDatpBAzAoA2U44QoPrkfCt_8SgN1WBQWCyx9WhLOxEfjFJmZVJfdA50Ws_r8RJqIA/s1600/Cyril+%2526+Olivia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4HYswfmP9Rr8u9g0hHAxyjosSMC5Q39QAo8eFjwK181NSROralcvJRO-BJ0p3NBg5AK044oMathnDatpBAzAoA2U44QoPrkfCt_8SgN1WBQWCyx9WhLOxEfjFJmZVJfdA50Ws_r8RJqIA/s320/Cyril+%2526+Olivia.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Terrace with Cyril & Olivia</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I'd never seen such an astonishing display. Back in USofA, each year, a group of us would trudge to either Crissy Field in San Francisco, Tiburon (or hope against hope!) to the top deck of our houseboat, or someone else's even higher deck, in Sausalito, to see the 4th of July extravaganza. Without fail, the fog would roll in, and all we could hear were a few dislocated booms. Consumed loads of crackers, cheese and two buck Chuck. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBeQs8RosGf17BWmlYz61jxNqbPd5ZSaTJtsl5SheOHeLK3devFIRdSSgFu6tX-3IrhZzk836yv1yzhYySofJo0_nx06hkvNG0V4f2k_EuhwtRBJGhabfNQTQ9gVFvYMIlF4s56cki9YX/s1600/Fortressfire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBeQs8RosGf17BWmlYz61jxNqbPd5ZSaTJtsl5SheOHeLK3devFIRdSSgFu6tX-3IrhZzk836yv1yzhYySofJo0_nx06hkvNG0V4f2k_EuhwtRBJGhabfNQTQ9gVFvYMIlF4s56cki9YX/s400/Fortressfire.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fortress engulfed in flames - August 30, 2015</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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On this night, we feasted on the Beauty of St. Augustine, and toasted the village of Villebois-Lavalette for providing such a generous display, especially with the economy at a low ebb at the moment. </div>
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I tucked the evening's events into my Memory Palace.<i> </i></div>
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<i>Right Thoughts in Sad Hours - </i>Cotton Mather, 1811<i> </i></div>
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<i> The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page</i>. St. Augustine</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FZjzzRDdiRZKaEP_1ffNIUrvcg-cOXq4goMWbBm0IYECUbBSuD9X1GoNjJ6dfFTgZlyzWM_dZ3R0SwzsK4IXFsWig4ThvDEhiSI4D9GA16pXlIqkwDvxA90wRGLGeSczBnBmh0fQrIJ_/s1600/She+had+traveled+far.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1FZjzzRDdiRZKaEP_1ffNIUrvcg-cOXq4goMWbBm0IYECUbBSuD9X1GoNjJ6dfFTgZlyzWM_dZ3R0SwzsK4IXFsWig4ThvDEhiSI4D9GA16pXlIqkwDvxA90wRGLGeSczBnBmh0fQrIJ_/s320/She+had+traveled+far.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Constant companion travel bag from friend Dale, Queen of the Star Gazers</td></tr>
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The older I become, the lighter my suitcase gets. Soon it will be Hobo Samsonite, a stick with a kerchief. My hands, which used to be filled with idle mischief, are now held by a thousand other hands, and by the time I leave this plane of existence, I hope they will be filled with light. <br />
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I had "traveled far," this past summer, updating my Diary of Beauty, but found the most beautiful things right in my own front yard. First came, Madame Alfred CarriĂšre, bred by Joseph Schwartz & introduced in France in 1879; a generous, old fashioned rose, with an intoxicating scent, that blooms its heart out from spring to Christmas (an anniversary gift to my sweetheart). <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVQeBxdUNkRcYEqRPbyfjX2OeGEwTN-f2Q3_tjtiZan44p-fc2cDCVHd6LvbA0gxf3gkwiPawFIy3g8P1AsXvrlRBcOwcvIa9a13MAnE412KWW_JEh4DUFvTNYzVuBDMxTuudAu4de55A/s1600/Rosa+%2527Madame+Alfred+Carriere%2527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVQeBxdUNkRcYEqRPbyfjX2OeGEwTN-f2Q3_tjtiZan44p-fc2cDCVHd6LvbA0gxf3gkwiPawFIy3g8P1AsXvrlRBcOwcvIa9a13MAnE412KWW_JEh4DUFvTNYzVuBDMxTuudAu4de55A/s200/Rosa+%2527Madame+Alfred+Carriere%2527.jpg" width="199" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFpWfYn5y6xLscAVdM-QYJuWebrL66Blniq0zSwiPOhWyEFTwPXBOSan_OfM1r1NspVvRuOzW3nVym9pMNFM765Zy1uow3m_1FTDRUlQQdqsYc5CldHQHs0Kd0T5e8S723psQVHsczJA4/s1600/whiteroses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizFpWfYn5y6xLscAVdM-QYJuWebrL66Blniq0zSwiPOhWyEFTwPXBOSan_OfM1r1NspVvRuOzW3nVym9pMNFM765Zy1uow3m_1FTDRUlQQdqsYc5CldHQHs0Kd0T5e8S723psQVHsczJA4/s320/whiteroses.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madame Alfred CarriĂšre climbing our side gate - June 2015</td></tr>
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One morning I found that our little garden had been turned into a "Fairies Meeting Place" by Kate, a.k.a, Tinkerbell, from La Tour, who had brought back some of her white magic from the U.K. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTSmfnft6k0OCbTY6UhjspSXwgAiT9G70V5x2meB9sCypqwRwP7eeSe9FeuSnmMRurgNRL9Ml8CiPjYLZL3wvwUY3o5Q3llSCLPlZLAypoOltvOobhT9zpFAl9U3DYr990bjpxMyyOAgN/s1600/Fairies+meeting+place.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTSmfnft6k0OCbTY6UhjspSXwgAiT9G70V5x2meB9sCypqwRwP7eeSe9FeuSnmMRurgNRL9Ml8CiPjYLZL3wvwUY3o5Q3llSCLPlZLAypoOltvOobhT9zpFAl9U3DYr990bjpxMyyOAgN/s320/Fairies+meeting+place.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A proper meeting place </td></tr>
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I want to keep Les <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">FĂ©es</span></span> happy. They like tulip blooms and Rosemary, of which we have oodles, but I have to plant some Foxgloves - they use those for clothing. Fairies travel on the backs of humming birds & dragonflies, like brave Una, from my Magical Adventures of Voyager - www.magicaladventuresofvoyager.com <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1W2hUf7bRD_L1Adfsc9RTasy8arRdRG3bJTbxXuYoFeFGKBIEb0TDM6qZ3ImG4U02Zdn6TZiaEZeuZXaaB0t0xqs4cLB8iIBY6o6d_BHArfbFHJtKC2Uq3JYc5BHJBS8BDEU4trSHZaLB/s1600/una2a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1W2hUf7bRD_L1Adfsc9RTasy8arRdRG3bJTbxXuYoFeFGKBIEb0TDM6qZ3ImG4U02Zdn6TZiaEZeuZXaaB0t0xqs4cLB8iIBY6o6d_BHArfbFHJtKC2Uq3JYc5BHJBS8BDEU4trSHZaLB/s200/una2a.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Una</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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You probably don't believe in faeries, lots of very smart people don't. But John Hyatt, Director of Manchester Institute for Research and Innovation in Art and Design, took this photo in his local landscape and had this to say:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="copy-paste-block">
<i>It was a bit of a shock when I blew them
up, I did a double take. I went out afterwards and took pictures of
flies and gnats and they just donât look the same. People can decide for
themselves what they are</i>. Read more at http://www.themotherish.com/photos-proving-fairies-are-real-these-are-amazing/#hG170AhvrVrT3fHA.99</div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztpFzglUEl1rjttke8eed1zmmJ_PEojMwDSeSPSmUh3fweQnPhh9FAaUqm0_mI7SOorlyf2eyQ2PNTqEQvfOjXvQ-19vT1tycK4lCU6JFv7cmFuocYjtD7W7lNQVG1xVV758TXgOzybB0/s1600/John-Hyatt-fairy-image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztpFzglUEl1rjttke8eed1zmmJ_PEojMwDSeSPSmUh3fweQnPhh9FAaUqm0_mI7SOorlyf2eyQ2PNTqEQvfOjXvQ-19vT1tycK4lCU6JFv7cmFuocYjtD7W7lNQVG1xVV758TXgOzybB0/s400/John-Hyatt-fairy-image.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hyatt's photo, allegedly proving that fairies are real</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
In hot pursuit came the wild roses, followed by the rosehips, which inspired the Ode below.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Rh2nFEiSzMyhwJHjOyh_WcbmIvw_HcinyJgh6XSh7VcG-XmPIqsxlMueoisPtr2GWCTxDCh6_P-33SNCp2Mwr7rbo7YXHLQ_zMDLbp72YTmc8wvscjP8LIXAGwPgH9NTol9GK9OvzzCs/s1600/tablegarden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Rh2nFEiSzMyhwJHjOyh_WcbmIvw_HcinyJgh6XSh7VcG-XmPIqsxlMueoisPtr2GWCTxDCh6_P-33SNCp2Mwr7rbo7YXHLQ_zMDLbp72YTmc8wvscjP8LIXAGwPgH9NTol9GK9OvzzCs/s640/tablegarden.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Roses - June 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ea9999;">An Ode to Wild Roses & Hips</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ea9999;"> We put up a pergola to support you,<br /> bending as you were <br /> under the weight of your own bounty.<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> You gave us pinky-white flowers in the spring,<br /> & silky petals we walked upon <br /> like newlyweds in a Merchant-Ivory film.<br /> Then came the rouge-red buds like the<br /> Fire-Engine lipstick my mother used to wear<br /> when she was feeling sexy & full of mischief.</span></span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ea9999;"> After a spell of drought and buckets of rain,<br /> you are ripening too early, before the first frost,<br /> warning us to pay attention to the cycles and<br /> seasons of our lives; <br /> to pay attention to the birds, the bees, the trees,<br /> and the very ground we stand upon,<br /> as the sky's canopy shelters us.</span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;"> You enchant and encourage us to take care of our earth <br /> and each other, as you have kept your eternal promise<br /> of spring flowering and fall harvest, <br /> despite your own trials.<br /> You release into our greedy hands,<br /> your gifts of health and well-being: <br /> your rose-hips,<br /> which have more vitamin C and antioxidants<br /> than all the pharmacies in the land.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;"> And, you forgive us.</span></div>
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<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxR9kRT5Fz4qPN7Qv6pMDRpCzAeG3HIoVT8qv_ECeaC1xdKJB_86CCLxYTwAsHGWG6Xyh7AWRrAMI0rS0o4DM7WK1MdR8qSwcVhHSXm6rjfQb4-YELk-k5ZTMoFfitDfTF0jcq83pWySb/s1600/Pergola2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxR9kRT5Fz4qPN7Qv6pMDRpCzAeG3HIoVT8qv_ECeaC1xdKJB_86CCLxYTwAsHGWG6Xyh7AWRrAMI0rS0o4DM7WK1MdR8qSwcVhHSXm6rjfQb4-YELk-k5ZTMoFfitDfTF0jcq83pWySb/s320/Pergola2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We put up a pergola to support them</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmanmZ7k34u_TWSaRAWOWMLp2Ms2qmEwBpt9Xo-AL3jMsTqa4D4sTc8i0pNCGIkK1ogVhYzpaY7JZ7ISneLbR-73bFfhcvoBv6Q8bXTQWbtAvHdGeTFBmSW58Wy-OtI4d7W_2IcNdzD3lj/s1600/rosehips2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmanmZ7k34u_TWSaRAWOWMLp2Ms2qmEwBpt9Xo-AL3jMsTqa4D4sTc8i0pNCGIkK1ogVhYzpaY7JZ7ISneLbR-73bFfhcvoBv6Q8bXTQWbtAvHdGeTFBmSW58Wy-OtI4d7W_2IcNdzD3lj/s320/rosehips2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosehips - August 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Then came the rosehips. They couldn't wait for the frost, so we couldn't wait to gather them. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSlhH2kYhv_zmAVZv1tKgiQxn_OhZIpeZqdMa_PbBGOPkBOdrY5W_5K9vvOvGTvhzjgpyNR9oobl05lCdT4Ae3vzTpC0SzLNBSZEDmgzPbK3etCl2irOmZGBhNBGsWkcX8tukXZ3SfVw79/s1600/In+the+rosehips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSlhH2kYhv_zmAVZv1tKgiQxn_OhZIpeZqdMa_PbBGOPkBOdrY5W_5K9vvOvGTvhzjgpyNR9oobl05lCdT4Ae3vzTpC0SzLNBSZEDmgzPbK3etCl2irOmZGBhNBGsWkcX8tukXZ3SfVw79/s200/In+the+rosehips.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the rosehips</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbIflEnIm6L0qY8VqfTS8nHRwHci4Y2Rz-f6KRgotWIaZnzk8SZXpUvIfxM4QFIRpO9aX_XInFKJ_s5g5VAQa3q_zoewhuHyhY2rPyyoQTrS58HINYp65qXlb6_RK3i3IusS6pH8d0Sx5/s1600/rosehipstable.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbIflEnIm6L0qY8VqfTS8nHRwHci4Y2Rz-f6KRgotWIaZnzk8SZXpUvIfxM4QFIRpO9aX_XInFKJ_s5g5VAQa3q_zoewhuHyhY2rPyyoQTrS58HINYp65qXlb6_RK3i3IusS6pH8d0Sx5/s400/rosehipstable.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bounty drying on the dining room table - August 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;">We froze many quart bags of sunlight & vitamin C - stowed away for winter gifts of rosehips tea.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #ea9999;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ea9999;"><i>Nature never did betray the heart that loved her. </i> Wm. Wordsworth</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ea9999;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: #ea9999;"><br /></span>
August was also my busiest month for Tarot with festivals and night markets, fund-raisers, ZOU, and a Sound Healing workshop & Dynamic Yoga day thrown in for good measure. Querents came with their dreams, their sorrows and fears, multiple choices, and whispered confidences.<br />
<br />
We had a ravishing day singing & "breathing" in Brossac with sound healer, Lou Van Stone
(organized by one of our local "healers" Liz Bell), come all the way from
Byron Bay, Australia. We created a container of sound,
color & light and filled it with our voices and our stories - find her on FB and at <span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.louvastone.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">www.louvastone.com</a></span><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEWvrnDW2LZs8ZnOdSuRyTnG8G5UIuoDul5kvbz4nNEIhcoiT5M2OKyhWff-xNKUqLYMgojlMXwnfG3AsqM39riNhAzV573j3zXax2YB80umOXVx9yYVeiRuxxwX258Sd7su_ENlZ0lcfX/s1600/Louvanstone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEWvrnDW2LZs8ZnOdSuRyTnG8G5UIuoDul5kvbz4nNEIhcoiT5M2OKyhWff-xNKUqLYMgojlMXwnfG3AsqM39riNhAzV573j3zXax2YB80umOXVx9yYVeiRuxxwX258Sd7su_ENlZ0lcfX/s320/Louvanstone.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lou Van Stone at Brossac - August 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i>I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am</i>. - Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
I spent some time in a field breathing with horses, sharing my secret vows; </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Je suis, Je suis, Je suis</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LAlUI1M8ppjK9QiR9IEcz2QWTxiqogwF65SKk9sgyMKWOqT_CiOnlf924ETOVtAIdTUNHeGilAwufnhG7eBIWrM5Dqf6fOlGtaMP7n_1O0t9iGfvPNdk8FS7C2Qte2KxoFCJiV_4TbIb/s1600/cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LAlUI1M8ppjK9QiR9IEcz2QWTxiqogwF65SKk9sgyMKWOqT_CiOnlf924ETOVtAIdTUNHeGilAwufnhG7eBIWrM5Dqf6fOlGtaMP7n_1O0t9iGfvPNdk8FS7C2Qte2KxoFCJiV_4TbIb/s320/cross.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fish + Cross + Birds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivteD_lnLKoK6nxNB_9dCeSumZVsSFcVpReUynRJxj6UJ9rpuZ3Wg0b1p7zoH2J6aOa6mT1Y1za6nGG_xNm4hzwdJU4w09078ohqF4S7hBIhGm_KCGXuZLzqoB1WQQUGqs0y9kI3mus2SY/s1600/horses2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivteD_lnLKoK6nxNB_9dCeSumZVsSFcVpReUynRJxj6UJ9rpuZ3Wg0b1p7zoH2J6aOa6mT1Y1za6nGG_xNm4hzwdJU4w09078ohqF4S7hBIhGm_KCGXuZLzqoB1WQQUGqs0y9kI3mus2SY/s400/horses2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Five Horses in Mainzac - like Celtic Gods</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ea9999;">âNous souffrons par les rĂȘves. Nous guĂ©rissons par les rĂȘves.â</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ea9999;">We suffer through dreams. We heal by dreams.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #ea9999;"> â Gaston Bachelard </span></div>
<br />
<br />
At Aubeterre-sur-Dronne, charmant hilltop village with river below, I read the futures, under the stars, till after midnight, in the sweet spot
next to the L'Eglise Monolithe, which was open all night so people could enter freely - hundreds of visitors dancing to Cuban
music, eating foie gras & Jerked chicken, doing the Macarena + one
of my favorite fortune seekers, Irish actor, Ryan, enchanted evening...
then the coach came, one glass slipper left behind.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVy2vTVTn3pgkEXg7B4AGwQbwPiFXakBUc0gi-CTqIFuZ7Q_ksBO_-lCUGTUsKY_yFYv-TQjgYtcVMfhZ8DayoacFIu0Jz0PqnJguosZPkl1C-bHOobblFoFlKuK8E3wjVsMFZpQ61Le6/s1600/Aubeterre+night+market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVy2vTVTn3pgkEXg7B4AGwQbwPiFXakBUc0gi-CTqIFuZ7Q_ksBO_-lCUGTUsKY_yFYv-TQjgYtcVMfhZ8DayoacFIu0Jz0PqnJguosZPkl1C-bHOobblFoFlKuK8E3wjVsMFZpQ61Le6/s200/Aubeterre+night+market.jpg" width="143" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9mKuJTlgWeGfcsMUYJceziXH_OaXBc2SCDXXcHudr-sipswx6BR33NGw4DfF4ML_SVkgH-f7u9aKFKZWv_IK7O_PI_nDSxGHjF5GYldAmo1GrJ4bHAx5ZkN26NpyySGIG-mGVoIvdLCS/s1600/Ryan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9mKuJTlgWeGfcsMUYJceziXH_OaXBc2SCDXXcHudr-sipswx6BR33NGw4DfF4ML_SVkgH-f7u9aKFKZWv_IK7O_PI_nDSxGHjF5GYldAmo1GrJ4bHAx5ZkN26NpyySGIG-mGVoIvdLCS/s320/Ryan.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan, the Eye-candy, I mean Irish Actor</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcwE4jOa9Jl9x8CBRRmDimiGOxEXku6OgJZ6BHbK6xgyYITbik4sz525okXufGY_ekejVfHoeUmo3Hj99RCPFsHZU3SbVSo1tms4PL2eOlDebj15UW_AJRSUSsk8bnpwtQGsEGhuaE2vcX/s1600/Sweet+young+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcwE4jOa9Jl9x8CBRRmDimiGOxEXku6OgJZ6BHbK6xgyYITbik4sz525okXufGY_ekejVfHoeUmo3Hj99RCPFsHZU3SbVSo1tms4PL2eOlDebj15UW_AJRSUSsk8bnpwtQGsEGhuaE2vcX/s320/Sweet+young+girl.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful young girl who asked beautiful questions</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif_mCTGTX9evVoVQlkcBtFjMAxyNQiOXLsE0KmHG3yo5GyqKRVwGraDgvgsrd8AI6niwExEgiXv53ncuU3VzjgBXYMzWHTz_GrWAAPOD07lZ34_QGEax71Euk9g5V984lmpSxEgjAHK0xC/s1600/L%2527eglise+Monolithe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif_mCTGTX9evVoVQlkcBtFjMAxyNQiOXLsE0KmHG3yo5GyqKRVwGraDgvgsrd8AI6niwExEgiXv53ncuU3VzjgBXYMzWHTz_GrWAAPOD07lZ34_QGEax71Euk9g5V984lmpSxEgjAHK0xC/s320/L%2527eglise+Monolithe.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L'Eglise Monolith - Marche Nocturne</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTjgI53_GOyGcYouxVFKKjSwasvbs0YnNT2a69TmxwOQlzUcC2h-MOzTmO1xGV2b53_9X6Y6bDeGXu8BSNYwtMHOrYHHGy-k1A_x6xdoFwbo6Iec-JGcBqZhyw1G7yMUJUyKyrAd_SjGZk/s1600/Aubeterre+candles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTjgI53_GOyGcYouxVFKKjSwasvbs0YnNT2a69TmxwOQlzUcC2h-MOzTmO1xGV2b53_9X6Y6bDeGXu8BSNYwtMHOrYHHGy-k1A_x6xdoFwbo6Iec-JGcBqZhyw1G7yMUJUyKyrAd_SjGZk/s400/Aubeterre+candles.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End of the Night - <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">Bonne Soirée!</span></span></td></tr>
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I read Tarot for the Twilight Doggies 7th year Birthday Party at Lempzours. It was almost 100
degrees, but I stayed semi-cool under a giant Oak tree, reading cards for seekers with exotic names like India, Wasia, Verite & Koko. A grand success! Graeme &
Cindy were there with violin & guitar. Twilight - the retirement home for
doggies, on FB and at www.twilightchiens.com. Leeanne & Mike, and a battalion of volunteers, provide refuge and comfort for so many aged and abandoned dogs - running the place on a shoestring, a wing and a prayer. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvM6Sx_6WZsQErurEqF_2cgcBswQqBiAvA1DvIg52p7MKw0G4UlcSO-l9FhnDtxX0s74MEumFrcWE9gbiI-Qm_lzedytaSMuliJAkzrFKsBpd9-y6fB7Fysm0o-yrri3lWRS_2YGVsK-SF/s1600/Twilight+sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvM6Sx_6WZsQErurEqF_2cgcBswQqBiAvA1DvIg52p7MKw0G4UlcSO-l9FhnDtxX0s74MEumFrcWE9gbiI-Qm_lzedytaSMuliJAkzrFKsBpd9-y6fB7Fysm0o-yrri3lWRS_2YGVsK-SF/s320/Twilight+sign.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiXkZspLuuEmcsuHi6tsFoWl2K8owdvFIjh3NGn2JYSytkp2GeOQXiGNP1X_I8ObA26593qjqJZc0kcT5aQUWgxLMoH_kHX_UayD7zVgQ9eXCOx4moX6VgMivr2pftXvO6Q43x-9or3uye/s1600/doggiestwilight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiXkZspLuuEmcsuHi6tsFoWl2K8owdvFIjh3NGn2JYSytkp2GeOQXiGNP1X_I8ObA26593qjqJZc0kcT5aQUWgxLMoH_kHX_UayD7zVgQ9eXCOx4moX6VgMivr2pftXvO6Q43x-9or3uye/s320/doggiestwilight.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey, turn on the air conditioner!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhmZwzrQuWSC62EaOQYtJOvaozp-FGWEGmMNwLiHVEU8kdlwGeEyCilQTEga1KFROqKkklj4ZVbKmzYyzOnmovjuCwkWKgmAR5X10UguueW9EKI5cd8MBhovA8aNRfpcTxlhMkIF_J69O/s1600/Tarotrudy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhmZwzrQuWSC62EaOQYtJOvaozp-FGWEGmMNwLiHVEU8kdlwGeEyCilQTEga1KFROqKkklj4ZVbKmzYyzOnmovjuCwkWKgmAR5X10UguueW9EKI5cd8MBhovA8aNRfpcTxlhMkIF_J69O/s200/Tarotrudy.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shelter of the mighty Oak</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1U-3z3oFLuOvG7Uj6-bax9hYiGYfhtvZ-Jyn3PCQbviMKPcCqLid3NZBfuld9MWSZNJg_uT4cNsSdHz3grsks3tKULMzRSomDw8Nc-JLL-oOw74EcyX5h2zFJwkcLBHZuqBCHdAcZ39S/s1600/Rudyhat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1U-3z3oFLuOvG7Uj6-bax9hYiGYfhtvZ-Jyn3PCQbviMKPcCqLid3NZBfuld9MWSZNJg_uT4cNsSdHz3grsks3tKULMzRSomDw8Nc-JLL-oOw74EcyX5h2zFJwkcLBHZuqBCHdAcZ39S/s200/Rudyhat.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was hot!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0oQQrOt2NGwfQhFJieZvNrtUU6brJnGqLvuAQx1ZmRhOb_ojkZyWbGEOvd2woztiuxNczqwOwtauVL3j0ILTTG2wgys29lWwuF030RZxRwKLY9e3A1J4oiHXjZwsiomIC6Xw_2edAtWCo/s1600/Leeanne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0oQQrOt2NGwfQhFJieZvNrtUU6brJnGqLvuAQx1ZmRhOb_ojkZyWbGEOvd2woztiuxNczqwOwtauVL3j0ILTTG2wgys29lWwuF030RZxRwKLY9e3A1J4oiHXjZwsiomIC6Xw_2edAtWCo/s320/Leeanne.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leeanne & Doreen</td></tr>
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Something shifted at Lempzours. People asked for messages from the other side. I don't usually do that - I'm not a medium, but voices wanted to be heard, so I listened.<br />
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We had more chaleur on "Sun"day for the rescheduled CSF fundraiser at La Charrue, near Brantome, my last public event in the Charente in August. I had a green
Tarot oasis behind the sax player. I've read there many times, one of the most convivial of settings. Clive and Pauline put on a good show and give so generously to the community. The Bear brought in lots of honey
& some of my favorites, Lex, the Mad Hatter and Janika, the Swedish
Lady in Lavender. I did get scolded for taking too much time with each client (I didn't know this), but there was a queue of people waiting out of my line of sight. It takes what it takes, and I hate to cut people off, but I've ordered an antique hourglass!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiiX2Khyphenhyphen7KlJw5DeBTSthhFhhgTOfjKZQKg-dKfysdX5RJKzuvYafC3kkswMd7_Ppx31JzVdJt_qxJs0cWtZSYanMWQl_4IgeRfW9aanUAuSRg3GUiJ03rjH7WXd6_cVdxWNSMw-cljaYm/s1600/CSF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiiX2Khyphenhyphen7KlJw5DeBTSthhFhhgTOfjKZQKg-dKfysdX5RJKzuvYafC3kkswMd7_Ppx31JzVdJt_qxJs0cWtZSYanMWQl_4IgeRfW9aanUAuSRg3GUiJ03rjH7WXd6_cVdxWNSMw-cljaYm/s320/CSF.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CSF support for Riberac Chapter</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_2OB2uRbTGA1KPQpnVn0cWx8tnyR8GfGw8OOaZmumLVNbqd53ZPIZGajVy0sw4cTwV3_aaypjAl_R_pRsUqmEjf7wfTDdK1i6QpGg4NNPiDhnXmVajsr9QoC8a9pbzbuzxy0PLSK1TPM/s1600/madhatter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_2OB2uRbTGA1KPQpnVn0cWx8tnyR8GfGw8OOaZmumLVNbqd53ZPIZGajVy0sw4cTwV3_aaypjAl_R_pRsUqmEjf7wfTDdK1i6QpGg4NNPiDhnXmVajsr9QoC8a9pbzbuzxy0PLSK1TPM/s320/madhatter.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lex, the Mad Hatter</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnx8Pu7h6RVBIOy8i2EafIaouUzBCpfvOketp_3m2r7h-hP8dodVf4QeWP3jz2wo1rWP7XNPPBU67ifrolwB_RXmnfVlo2v-D-w5O3OcYIl6ZZGadgmCCgrTlMw2_xPD9f1yZLF1GnwP_/s1600/janika2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnx8Pu7h6RVBIOy8i2EafIaouUzBCpfvOketp_3m2r7h-hP8dodVf4QeWP3jz2wo1rWP7XNPPBU67ifrolwB_RXmnfVlo2v-D-w5O3OcYIl6ZZGadgmCCgrTlMw2_xPD9f1yZLF1GnwP_/s200/janika2.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Bear - Prosperity/Protection</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3hLA9sYIpEsMwazmzWjO1ojU3uaNPMQReMN4MiLmXlNOK4A1H-ZPmhNlFNyLqYT_ZRKq6vWU-LUe9RHaEdzVsBpotI_qmtxn0VFCiYtkCPDRbanYK0f-xIa9oqNmgy0zkHGv1B5UpwRd/s1600/Clive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3hLA9sYIpEsMwazmzWjO1ojU3uaNPMQReMN4MiLmXlNOK4A1H-ZPmhNlFNyLqYT_ZRKq6vWU-LUe9RHaEdzVsBpotI_qmtxn0VFCiYtkCPDRbanYK0f-xIa9oqNmgy0zkHGv1B5UpwRd/s320/Clive.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clive</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0MkshNdLB3-1C1XArdXxmTE0rqFsLbDtxvcRNIPhSTBQNscIOGE19JZ_qaPyEmC9ee9LaJTv-N3iySTbcDpUQfs7cOfVk_o2XUA67BzqHtxLcGwTux_IlQqsWvBTPReQsGEqVA2o3Nkjv/s1600/Janika.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0MkshNdLB3-1C1XArdXxmTE0rqFsLbDtxvcRNIPhSTBQNscIOGE19JZ_qaPyEmC9ee9LaJTv-N3iySTbcDpUQfs7cOfVk_o2XUA67BzqHtxLcGwTux_IlQqsWvBTPReQsGEqVA2o3Nkjv/s200/Janika.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Janika - Lavender Lady</td></tr>
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While the Wellies were getting tossed and the band played on, I heard so many biographies, tragedy and tears, coupled with courage and laughter. And it was here, I felt another shift of consciousness, some further lifting of the veil. I no longer "saw" parts of people, impressions or tiny visions and newsreels, but rather their wholeness like a blueprint of<br />
their being, an X-ray of their interior reality. Often, I see other lifetimes folding backward & forward. Time is not linear. People let me slip in to their time warp. And the view I am allowed of their humanity, the sharing of their stories, their grief, loneliness, disappointments, happiness, hopes & dreams, makes me bow my head in humility and gratitude. You might say: What audacious claims!<br />
<i>But it's the truth, it's actual, everything is satisfactual...</i><br />
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And as Rilke says: <i>There is no place that is not looking at you. </i><br />
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As I drove home, under the full moon, I thought about how hard it is to be fully present in our lives, to put down our defenses and our impotent weapons - wishing to escape the hard parts, and worse yet, not fully embracing the Joy that flies like snowy Doves onto our rooftops and perches there, waiting for us to look up or thru the walls of our own inner prisons. And instead of dancing with our destiny we try to control it, which is virtually impossible and ultimately breaks us into smaller chunks. A fragmenting of the soul takes place and for most of us, it can take a lifetime to collect those pieces, to rectify and make peace with the choices along the route. And to finally forgive ourselves and others for the losses we endured and orchestrated.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WvyzMElj1ewWNQLns079CK625SlGP7q91QB-nC4ouZGj2xtnwvNSuF7Mt9miZ81mS0Wy1kdzLCoyUbfCaKx39blTKDZ_RgB0vd8KITj6OFu5w0D4Ll3IwT0seSsWdYHmokzujfPkhMf-/s1600/Doves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WvyzMElj1ewWNQLns079CK625SlGP7q91QB-nC4ouZGj2xtnwvNSuF7Mt9miZ81mS0Wy1kdzLCoyUbfCaKx39blTKDZ_RgB0vd8KITj6OFu5w0D4Ll3IwT0seSsWdYHmokzujfPkhMf-/s400/Doves.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doves at Roger's house in Bristol</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
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<i> A journey is like a marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it</i>. John Steinbeck<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6FFlZn-kw8RbkjWWUegtxLk86juRANfzfYpz9AYF82Ct3tdsXWDP6YTGsTWK6nlJNycwUQkGE52CNVVB-06w7H76AuiLiHb8Wyn2WDuli-3yUqSmJkZkrMWe_xn2XnQByzbOB9fnpQ5W/s1600/6septem1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6FFlZn-kw8RbkjWWUegtxLk86juRANfzfYpz9AYF82Ct3tdsXWDP6YTGsTWK6nlJNycwUQkGE52CNVVB-06w7H76AuiLiHb8Wyn2WDuli-3yUqSmJkZkrMWe_xn2XnQByzbOB9fnpQ5W/s400/6septem1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allegory of September (detail) 1476-84, Palazzo Schifanoia, Ferrera, Tarot Travel Guide</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In summer we were caressed by the Chantilly breezes - and warmed by the sloe-eyed, Gauguinesque sun. The bite of fall, like a crisp apple, was vivid and alive. <br />
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In September, the calendar was filled with private readings and fascinating characters. I read for a Chilean diplomat, on the short list for Ambassador, a French actor, an artist from Sri Lanka, several Welsh ladies who come back each year to see what's new in their cards, a water dowser (who told me it is also called water divining and doodlebugging), and a couple of horse trainers, one who does dream work. And there was a resounding wave of larger issues on the world stage; big ticket items, like droughts, wars, oil and alternative energy. The Tower (La Tour), La Maison Dieu, kept appearing. Crisis, Destruction, Revolution, Liberation. Outdated forms are tumbling down. Lightning strikes - Eureka! <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfb7EOlCw7j1rIwP7Mw-jttVht4QkIpJ7DMvgMJ6x7UKvl9JPSUyVBcBvYD9eelzR5S-h-nHiPU8NEMVNvKK9v97Qa9uE5B3pwiJNR8JxQZB7MdTyJqhabUTOpuhLH6793G6-xLWdz_eWD/s1600/Jean_Dodal_Tarot_trump_16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfb7EOlCw7j1rIwP7Mw-jttVht4QkIpJ7DMvgMJ6x7UKvl9JPSUyVBcBvYD9eelzR5S-h-nHiPU8NEMVNvKK9v97Qa9uE5B3pwiJNR8JxQZB7MdTyJqhabUTOpuhLH6793G6-xLWdz_eWD/s320/Jean_Dodal_Tarot_trump_16.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Tarot de Marseille, Jean Dodal </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhIpy-hfylaMw9TOUOFQxMEPB61fpBQBVAsS5yCKKe3mrcc1bc-wuKgNKa-HUEQno1KYE8p-aj3WPhsAhWOcYTeNsPn7DfIGjRsoZtmVwa2q14E5MiSwwQ5Ngu8QfSqCTeot3qR6cLY1B/s1600/thelightning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhIpy-hfylaMw9TOUOFQxMEPB61fpBQBVAsS5yCKKe3mrcc1bc-wuKgNKa-HUEQno1KYE8p-aj3WPhsAhWOcYTeNsPn7DfIGjRsoZtmVwa2q14E5MiSwwQ5Ngu8QfSqCTeot3qR6cLY1B/s320/thelightning.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Foudre, Belgian Tarot, Jacques Vieville - 17th c.</td></tr>
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<i>But the Tower was large,</i></div>
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<i> wasn't it? O Angel, it was,</i></div>
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<i> large, even compared to you?</i></div>
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<i> </i></div>
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Duino Elegies, Rilke </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL65q-yOpfhjdpF8XdlCtZKbI7p_SVAQ4lM7wvh11AtOGjzWc0q43Bh_ZMIOvrLcOtV2QWQYn5iEkPiuMXlQjmTaolv58yTgxnE1gZb_DSNFH657W8MuahoaECxG29hEAJtaHL8oWpxvtg/s1600/Ressurection+angel+greenwood+cemetery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL65q-yOpfhjdpF8XdlCtZKbI7p_SVAQ4lM7wvh11AtOGjzWc0q43Bh_ZMIOvrLcOtV2QWQYn5iEkPiuMXlQjmTaolv58yTgxnE1gZb_DSNFH657W8MuahoaECxG29hEAJtaHL8oWpxvtg/s400/Ressurection+angel+greenwood+cemetery.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Resurrection Angel - Greenwood Cemetery, Brooklyn, N.Y.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Bursting Forth </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">This angel, bursting forth</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">into the world, </span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">found the poorest of us</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">emptied but wagging like dogs, </span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">strangers in between towns; </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">found us as individual roses</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">upon her dress, the given breath,</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">as moments caught in downpour, </span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">your honest lament and sunsets. </span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">This
angel, everyoneâs angel,</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">multiform and oh so individual,</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">private as
corresponding star, </span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">this friend</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">they cannot corporatize. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Angel of
the way, </span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">angel of the cross,</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">angel coming into view, this feeling
taking form</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">out of scintillating black. Nothing</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">to shove out of the way, </span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">no unguarded rooms for unwanted guests.</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Angel winged in wonder,</span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">the
ascended here on earth. </span><br />
<br />
âStewart S. Warren, 2015 <br />
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
September was "bursting forth" with Angels, AND orchards and apples. I had a bountiful trip to Bordeaux, where I saw the retrospective of Chilean director, Alejandro Jodorowsky, filled with psychomagic & Tarot at the Contemporary Museum plus a private tour of the Bordeaux Observatory, built in 1893, when stargazers spun the world manually and used photographic plates.<br />
<br />
But now, the hour grows late, the eyes grow tired, and the blog grows too long, so I will catch up on September palaver in Part II, which will likely not arrive off the presses until November, when I return from Spain.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
Toutefois, I have saved the best for last, (as I advertised above, the "History of a Mystery...") and I won't renege. </div>
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</div>
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</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWp35uNvqIscAEf9qDYNJt6NwMP-AWfthy58joXI9T2TJ2NXBKmaigwanodsNls88UMHFYoV_jzjhgHDSOwwBq5dE1vaN6UCsZHaCtEcySnz07oxrE23yPKIvVGaCu3ZNRsF8_d-VTPnDb/s1600/Tarot+italy+tour.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWp35uNvqIscAEf9qDYNJt6NwMP-AWfthy58joXI9T2TJ2NXBKmaigwanodsNls88UMHFYoV_jzjhgHDSOwwBq5dE1vaN6UCsZHaCtEcySnz07oxrE23yPKIvVGaCu3ZNRsF8_d-VTPnDb/s640/Tarot+italy+tour.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Compilation of photos from Italy Tarot Tours 2012 & 2015 by Arnell Ando (I'm in Niki's Garden, left frame)</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
<b>Tarot Travel Guide of Italy
<br />
History of a Mystery from the Renaissance
<br />
Now Available as Both a Kindle or a Pdf eBook
<br />
Expanded to Include More Fascinating Details & Beautiful Imagery
<br />
Full of Useful Live links & Maps!
<br />
With Over 70 Images (65 in Color)
<br />
A Must Have Guide for Italy Travel & Tarot Art History
<br />
Created by: Morena Poltronieri, Ernesto Fazioli & Arnell Ando
<br />
Published by Museo dei Tarocchi
</b>
</div>
<div align="center">
<b>Available on Kindle at www.amazon.com </b><br />
<b>or visit the webpage for other ways to access this special guide</b><br />
<b><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".7z.1:$mid=11445015052987=230c71e619cbeada547.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".7z.1:$mid=11445015052987=230c71e619cbeada547.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><a data-reactid=".7z.1:$mid=11445015052987=230c71e619cbeada547.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$range0/=10" href="http://www.arnellart.com/museodeitarocchi/msdk48-pdf" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">www.arnellart.com/museodeitarocchi/msdk48-pdf</a><span data-reactid=".7z.1:$mid=11445015052987=230c71e619cbeada547.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end/=1$text0/=010">.</span></span></span> </b></div>
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<b> </b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnJ0WDeJFvex-l85UosF365AQ5ut6ezlfKkCvIefVeEtjoUMJtFaEBzb_2JNfz9G20rfV_i6z_dYv7JZQX-7DaEEQpTxOfUv6JaGjPDiLkDbGxlYJlQUDunfSUMBzgrkFnX6r_bWJAHTQi/s1600/History.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnJ0WDeJFvex-l85UosF365AQ5ut6ezlfKkCvIefVeEtjoUMJtFaEBzb_2JNfz9G20rfV_i6z_dYv7JZQX-7DaEEQpTxOfUv6JaGjPDiLkDbGxlYJlQUDunfSUMBzgrkFnX6r_bWJAHTQi/s320/History.jpg" width="203" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">www.arnellart.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I've<b> </b>written at length about my time on the 2012 Tour with the merry band; how it expanded and illuminated my understanding of Tarot, and saturated my soul with the lusty, earthy beauty of Italy. I can still conjure up the smell of olives & parmesan in Tuscany! The 2015 Tour is likely to have been the last one. I am so happy to have the Tarot Travel Guide, the end result of years of scholarship & research, artistically and lovingly compiled by Ernesto, Morena and Arnell. And I do believe the hard copies are sold out, so lucky duckies, we are, to be able to obtain the guide on Kindle. It is truly a labor of love and a gift from three of the foremost experts on Tarot (and Italy). <i>With this unique Travel Guide, youâll trace Tarotâs earliest roots and
follow the trail to the Italian Renaissance where it was born &
continues to thrive and reinvent itself through every artist who
interprets its powerful, archetypal imagery & esoteric symbology. </i>Poem below from Introduction to Italy Tarot Tour Kindle version, by Stewart S. Warren, participant in 2015 Italy Tarot Tour. </div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><b><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">From Oliveâs Terrace</span></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">I speak as a stone tower </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">held together with iron bands</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">above the cold waves,
corroding against the wet</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">mineral winds and also time</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">which is motion and compassion.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">Every day an old man climbs</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">to wind the clock; everyday a woman </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">leaps to her death, her blue</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">gown turning like petals in midair.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">Lightning strikes from within;</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">you feel the gears⊠and the sky. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">I speak as a bell, my metal</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">fashioned in the shape of alarm</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">and glory, my song</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">not exactly a song</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">but the true dog tracking</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">the tracker, sniffing out our</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">rough and tumble history.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">I am the black bee come to visit </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">your country kitchen</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">with nothing on my mind</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">but left over toast and jam</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">and the crumbs of dreams brought</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">from the crypt of your far flung
nocturnal wonderings. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">Through the open door I come</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">and go, through light falling</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">on the floor. Last night</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">you closed it against the storm</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">and youâll close it again
before final dawn.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">The bee finds its way
through the smallest crack</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">and light moves according to passion.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">I love as spider threads strung
between the roof, the rose</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">and the sun, and I am broken</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">by black birds and cats,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">by the wind and the woodsman, </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">by the wishes of children rushing</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">heart first into this garden.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">I am diligent and sticky like hope.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">I am for you now and always.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"> âStewart S. Warren, Evocateur and author of over</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">20 poetry collections, five of which explore the Tarot</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".34.1:$mid=11432300251455=2382740dbad35bfff74.2:0.0.0.0.0.0">www.heartlink.com </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">www.heartlink.com - www.amazon.com</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">www.heartlink.com - www.amazon.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Thank you to Carmen Sorrenti for allowing me to use two of her gorgeous paintings in this blog.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplMyzXpKasCXoUPjElAx9jhO1_a8ml3dA0IlHltqDZbhEBsUZRDipgHDV7Pv50T6WXOIzn9pGIsKyIxSh4YFQrb6UxFlX5oMXu8HUrkxF6LgWI2luoOX-UWJ6aZ6dRWk1qLliZc4uhbt9/s1600/Carmen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplMyzXpKasCXoUPjElAx9jhO1_a8ml3dA0IlHltqDZbhEBsUZRDipgHDV7Pv50T6WXOIzn9pGIsKyIxSh4YFQrb6UxFlX5oMXu8HUrkxF6LgWI2luoOX-UWJ6aZ6dRWk1qLliZc4uhbt9/s400/Carmen.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pholarchos Tarot - www.carmensorrenti.com</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXIoj8cZ2MHiwKQDmMOW2h1MSzQW20pqjp6kcVMHKiNqIaUBhkampsKXLjOKHAvs5M-qBGOpG6tiHKvuPZLRhs5eCx7m7VPy-r40gnlC0Dk5pJRdovtl0AgU2dSvvJGs359phtNbCWGw0C/s1600/Darkangel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXIoj8cZ2MHiwKQDmMOW2h1MSzQW20pqjp6kcVMHKiNqIaUBhkampsKXLjOKHAvs5M-qBGOpG6tiHKvuPZLRhs5eCx7m7VPy-r40gnlC0Dk5pJRdovtl0AgU2dSvvJGs359phtNbCWGw0C/s320/Darkangel.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dark Angel - ZOU Expo, Trish McCrae, artist, August</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6bQ6Em3VSVADSeqBpwvVGHnFj2l7gim8R2G1QZMUUKk8rmqxvUiXtchVdEDHE17ED3QNCRJ0BAIYGVSR6X5_WbJ12qDF75BW9VoCXQ2JHBHkQvwgvZs1OKE2hstdkQBZ7a7KFl33jMJt/s1600/Grottoangel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6bQ6Em3VSVADSeqBpwvVGHnFj2l7gim8R2G1QZMUUKk8rmqxvUiXtchVdEDHE17ED3QNCRJ0BAIYGVSR6X5_WbJ12qDF75BW9VoCXQ2JHBHkQvwgvZs1OKE2hstdkQBZ7a7KFl33jMJt/s400/Grottoangel.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grotto Angel, ZOU Expo, Le Hameau de la Brousse, August 2015</td></tr>
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Hundreds of honking Cranes ((Les Grues) have been passing overhead in the Charente the
last few days, announcing a cold and early winter. They are on their way to
Spain - maybe I'll meet them there. I'm off to Barcelona and Madrid with my dear friend Dawn. Hasta la Pizza, enjoy your life, wherever you are...<br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i><br /></i></span>
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<span style="color: #e69138;"><i>Oneâs destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things. </i>â Henry Miller</span></div>
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Leaving you with this cracking little video: Le Retour des Grues<br />
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-12517428670746267682015-09-28T18:29:00.000-07:002015-10-01T04:19:25.283-07:00THE HOUR of FEELING - Des Pensées<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBcOw5SBpI9F2XaP9W42yBQsuhpJqXQWpJC9Ui5Mcv0GmSHHCL_7yMZhseDFpMHgffPXhsCSnIUO7nNCYOneSpCHkgv8dxxbcqi6vfQqzZyiPdGdub1FS8gzuudzd-yr_I7XLMXdWgXxR/s1600/5+cows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBcOw5SBpI9F2XaP9W42yBQsuhpJqXQWpJC9Ui5Mcv0GmSHHCL_7yMZhseDFpMHgffPXhsCSnIUO7nNCYOneSpCHkgv8dxxbcqi6vfQqzZyiPdGdub1FS8gzuudzd-yr_I7XLMXdWgXxR/s320/5+cows.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">The Hour of Feeling </span><br />
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> Love, now a universal birth,<br /> From heart to heart is stealing,<br /> From earth to man, from man to earth:<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> --It is the hour of feeling.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span class="text_exposed_show"> Wordsworth, To My Sister</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-h96DohiX28SNA-C8a44iOqY8eEtj8oUhGciPPqLg8Zjj7iv9zRe11MmuczJyEWDintSuyw9hOhqNTlwmOzKTcBEgmw8Rs_dv6Mn-t3sCnTz5oMX1jtd2bsDscafRK3MCOQlsWVlcNWY/s1600/Mountainscumbria2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-h96DohiX28SNA-C8a44iOqY8eEtj8oUhGciPPqLg8Zjj7iv9zRe11MmuczJyEWDintSuyw9hOhqNTlwmOzKTcBEgmw8Rs_dv6Mn-t3sCnTz5oMX1jtd2bsDscafRK3MCOQlsWVlcNWY/s400/Mountainscumbria2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cumbria, Lakes District, July 2015 - David Whyte Poetry Tour - www.davidwhyte.com</td></tr>
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<i> </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Between here and here</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Between hidden points in the soul</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Between saying and said</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Beyond what we had one's self done. </i></div>
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*Carolyn Forche, The Blue Hour, On Earth </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFkwFwRgwFhfAeCZfsD9Mr5ZabCikn6mMDU8oKvKem2C-iDB8mLIedeauaWujwiz6_NJYejM7IiexXOB9eAuc2C-jJjcRtHqj38V-u7QgdacUhkATz6XLN6a31S4ogQKk1NwHudUm1BmK/s1600/Lanrig+Wordsworth.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFkwFwRgwFhfAeCZfsD9Mr5ZabCikn6mMDU8oKvKem2C-iDB8mLIedeauaWujwiz6_NJYejM7IiexXOB9eAuc2C-jJjcRtHqj38V-u7QgdacUhkATz6XLN6a31S4ogQKk1NwHudUm1BmK/s320/Lanrig+Wordsworth.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wordsworth and his sister, Dorothy, at Lancrigg</td></tr>
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Dorothy
and Wordsworth's wife Mary would copy poems into Wordsworth journals,
and when Mary was testing a new pen nib, she would write "amen" over and
over in the margins.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg2qa6kIuoK0C8yszeNvpOMwfJ7CY8QQgXZx0tXrEtM97M_VNOo5KNdTuNCrsJyx-jGZUhqaGL54MVriiTHkwCV5cjoSarWZPqMwOxkOrP-ljUfjaaenkRD37VeJz8Vus4NM6E07PSS2Nz/s1600/breathings.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg2qa6kIuoK0C8yszeNvpOMwfJ7CY8QQgXZx0tXrEtM97M_VNOo5KNdTuNCrsJyx-jGZUhqaGL54MVriiTHkwCV5cjoSarWZPqMwOxkOrP-ljUfjaaenkRD37VeJz8Vus4NM6E07PSS2Nz/s200/breathings.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhinzfswTKNa5XiJ8m8-OEXI0p4-Na8Tfb4gU0dJNLQJRzdMS7pAO8dD4CRnmraSav89ucKWA2pkdG7hPd0q7g8KxW8kd8N4PdLeKRBu85m2BuszevFiVtZSZABNCXAtMENGZMeU2Cz6vSh/s1600/Foxgloves+andslate.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhinzfswTKNa5XiJ8m8-OEXI0p4-Na8Tfb4gU0dJNLQJRzdMS7pAO8dD4CRnmraSav89ucKWA2pkdG7hPd0q7g8KxW8kd8N4PdLeKRBu85m2BuszevFiVtZSZABNCXAtMENGZMeU2Cz6vSh/s640/Foxgloves+andslate.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Foxgloves & Slate, Coniston - "Tis my faith that every flower enjoys the air it breathes! - W.W.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pfT0R1Viy8aDwaQojYq1g1MQR1weWq_E4Hka7wo7osvbJdcfnD3tmgExQbQL1ITHpZlr3lqpQU6xtxuStTwoSKEXU3YCbXowQzhCWEN00SuYXscVFPJKMNpgcs1CSZObZf4zjrhRhoeL/s1600/cows2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pfT0R1Viy8aDwaQojYq1g1MQR1weWq_E4Hka7wo7osvbJdcfnD3tmgExQbQL1ITHpZlr3lqpQU6xtxuStTwoSKEXU3YCbXowQzhCWEN00SuYXscVFPJKMNpgcs1CSZObZf4zjrhRhoeL/s320/cows2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cows on the way to Grasmere - July 2015</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEu5-Q37nJ70irm_oU_c7vkryC-6CgtiSawmSb6LNdGb6COVGO8tVuJctIwlGIhYYkqcLp6lBbJ1a5TMCBKmdnyPtMiANnp9-zoR8sTYBPchOw2Ttzkl3ajKFLcKtbqxziZ91NZANRuZ9/s1600/rudycows3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEu5-Q37nJ70irm_oU_c7vkryC-6CgtiSawmSb6LNdGb6COVGO8tVuJctIwlGIhYYkqcLp6lBbJ1a5TMCBKmdnyPtMiANnp9-zoR8sTYBPchOw2Ttzkl3ajKFLcKtbqxziZ91NZANRuZ9/s200/rudycows3.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They said: "yes you do look fat."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqxi0T5kvcUEI52DcztC-1FBkRJ6n3wuRs_MJlhS52FJzlmfCrw5oGjryjo9CH-HGmxFZNz7DMhLNWpNMZzD3okPvHy5LQ0vt535EMG4tP1gpQx-7KNdUVeSZ7WLnmODAysGKoTII88g0/s1600/Sheep2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqxi0T5kvcUEI52DcztC-1FBkRJ6n3wuRs_MJlhS52FJzlmfCrw5oGjryjo9CH-HGmxFZNz7DMhLNWpNMZzD3okPvHy5LQ0vt535EMG4tP1gpQx-7KNdUVeSZ7WLnmODAysGKoTII88g0/s320/Sheep2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YEP</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24JG54OpsKbLZ3N2VXY1R3G86XT3yWy-C21N6yBBqcWXJPVPKl1wUkojurn5SSs1G8BNEBxKBZOObATdw-7wleRmCNuc0bAxLCQUqm2o0a8KEONyfsRqeT9y_0JYTCGYwnsLxo3bnybdS/s1600/Sheep.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24JG54OpsKbLZ3N2VXY1R3G86XT3yWy-C21N6yBBqcWXJPVPKl1wUkojurn5SSs1G8BNEBxKBZOObATdw-7wleRmCNuc0bAxLCQUqm2o0a8KEONyfsRqeT9y_0JYTCGYwnsLxo3bnybdS/s400/Sheep.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have no opinion, whatever the others' said...</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdDyZAY4ygOYw0W6eCuTIf9gHzW08u9f6tqg5QLk-Y3ReCa8yVQRhjKCAUD-5HQj3N7BKaN-1Bu62ua-JwLh9VclK7W5_6v4iTeULoy3qHP0DXusFczauUtKkeZynohG32cwax6X_aUrj/s1600/Come+forth.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdDyZAY4ygOYw0W6eCuTIf9gHzW08u9f6tqg5QLk-Y3ReCa8yVQRhjKCAUD-5HQj3N7BKaN-1Bu62ua-JwLh9VclK7W5_6v4iTeULoy3qHP0DXusFczauUtKkeZynohG32cwax6X_aUrj/s320/Come+forth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It became what it was because of us, in that
sense loved.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It was the name of a time over there, a place</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It was the simplest way to know one another,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It is as if space were touching itself
through us.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It is more ominous than any oblivion to see
the world as it is.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> - </i>Blue Hour, On Earth - C. Forché<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjheidsT64O0HRWPILpoTX1OflrADU80OptiJf_3Fu7G5KTDHDz70zC-o1p7p3ZPJUsW_dCCcgJLDHbc3CJ2BYcwMU_Lm6VWKx0ZqLCtcK6SR282G7Vx9yjCQ-Ms7WGGCIDTZUNkc9pKyA-/s1600/Blue.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjheidsT64O0HRWPILpoTX1OflrADU80OptiJf_3Fu7G5KTDHDz70zC-o1p7p3ZPJUsW_dCCcgJLDHbc3CJ2BYcwMU_Lm6VWKx0ZqLCtcK6SR282G7Vx9yjCQ-Ms7WGGCIDTZUNkc9pKyA-/s200/Blue.jpg" width="135" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
PILGRIMS: PROPHECY, PRESENCE, PORTAL</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQtqubTwakcULH3iuttcwzYU30yAoguIEqprhCeFFFr35jkXXD8PMPW2EQSEbHBj_OQtzaD3BYRnDtY-TpbXFWfGVwOrGsDifPQzGJCNvH7SsmpH7FEm9hzeEuAoMEZcDc4bCOVNzbWGk/s1600/up+the+hill.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQtqubTwakcULH3iuttcwzYU30yAoguIEqprhCeFFFr35jkXXD8PMPW2EQSEbHBj_OQtzaD3BYRnDtY-TpbXFWfGVwOrGsDifPQzGJCNvH7SsmpH7FEm9hzeEuAoMEZcDc4bCOVNzbWGk/s200/up+the+hill.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking into each other's lives...</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpCfv4N1-mqp9XoP4JO00yUCK6Smc5D6jyCMWUxWv2Ed0OiK9YvXTzNo-RMpgU0hgQnu9dcghajY_6zD5dMlI-BPfAqje5NWdG67BVIf60rYshUVjL4sqMj219xvQqDcrdpv1URTlFViu/s1600/Moleyirishballast.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpCfv4N1-mqp9XoP4JO00yUCK6Smc5D6jyCMWUxWv2Ed0OiK9YvXTzNo-RMpgU0hgQnu9dcghajY_6zD5dMlI-BPfAqje5NWdG67BVIf60rYshUVjL4sqMj219xvQqDcrdpv1URTlFViu/s400/Moleyirishballast.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moley, our Irish ballast & Gaelic songbird</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Vows taken & not taken. Testaments of loneliness. Friendship. Forgiveness.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Anchored to each other, we reached for the sky.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97iOegZ01STnqjfNFi66Rn-kVkYm1_3Fnx1B4ErzDzWRw84z3MVStCqr6KdeRCHoxMfyEe8MCSvWVE-kUNGqkPg7Krkze67Qbl2FyJ0dmzpWAjj6GnFbcxyHDRp5h-MHslAaBkLVhB2ld/s1600/Vanourmanwith+van.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97iOegZ01STnqjfNFi66Rn-kVkYm1_3Fnx1B4ErzDzWRw84z3MVStCqr6KdeRCHoxMfyEe8MCSvWVE-kUNGqkPg7Krkze67Qbl2FyJ0dmzpWAjj6GnFbcxyHDRp5h-MHslAaBkLVhB2ld/s320/Vanourmanwith+van.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Van</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKxHCN_zsXgFicLsPQUrbk_4DmFy45Sr_A6NJnCXVldeszzGL_ibA5Z_-SgzvHu3DgldgMYJ_n7j7C-wa55TrRmAVEARgGceRJVBjLBxJ8R9SaH0nHyKkgFhc9HyeUjzqc9YrtjSpl2NP/s1600/CallieGary.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKxHCN_zsXgFicLsPQUrbk_4DmFy45Sr_A6NJnCXVldeszzGL_ibA5Z_-SgzvHu3DgldgMYJ_n7j7C-wa55TrRmAVEARgGceRJVBjLBxJ8R9SaH0nHyKkgFhc9HyeUjzqc9YrtjSpl2NP/s320/CallieGary.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Callie, Gary & Kevin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCgRrBN9pJpuuaI-7cCV8tx3zifKLNiOvcIlT6iE2ZlYPzMinrM2T8v6osWEsyjNzC1cnLRTPJ2vQHmmUSc1AayaAhyl4QPc9y9g-vcxMuzjnfo2-jhcgT_7Kg8e8O1judM8ikRbl3Jv6a/s1600/treesandrocks.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCgRrBN9pJpuuaI-7cCV8tx3zifKLNiOvcIlT6iE2ZlYPzMinrM2T8v6osWEsyjNzC1cnLRTPJ2vQHmmUSc1AayaAhyl4QPc9y9g-vcxMuzjnfo2-jhcgT_7Kg8e8O1judM8ikRbl3Jv6a/s400/treesandrocks.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9nLTdmPoEXUra-qFYRc4AGbrJDgHotXghmbTZabfLRq0zumneY_Gl-1nugJaP4F4kvRBDDzrzqMNGKsNWlcol3A5dhjy96pXEUEsfauzIEhVklSdK6ZIfW4F5fcdteLau8ik6vKEMwsjt/s1600/Singing+in+the+mist.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9nLTdmPoEXUra-qFYRc4AGbrJDgHotXghmbTZabfLRq0zumneY_Gl-1nugJaP4F4kvRBDDzrzqMNGKsNWlcol3A5dhjy96pXEUEsfauzIEhVklSdK6ZIfW4F5fcdteLau8ik6vKEMwsjt/s320/Singing+in+the+mist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moley & Ian Singing Gaelic Hymns in the Mist</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAH4nJqbo62Y76cMtWAAGNZ4TD1R2HyCqzKGWjQshiEfSya9FX62SVKFgTmIj9WF61SuFIYeDQcr9H4lqsOQ_oyZN4BJTSbmAYKETXRt4InoYv93veqs4TdvlQaKS296mPWgABBNBhWuE/s1600/David%2526Edward+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAH4nJqbo62Y76cMtWAAGNZ4TD1R2HyCqzKGWjQshiEfSya9FX62SVKFgTmIj9WF61SuFIYeDQcr9H4lqsOQ_oyZN4BJTSbmAYKETXRt4InoYv93veqs4TdvlQaKS296mPWgABBNBhWuE/s320/David%2526Edward+%25282%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Whyte & Edward Wates</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59FbzZCElPBTBUXj1N0OJ43dl3oIsuK0sdtzoskN3TMpadNrWoMIN3E6KP_k6GFzzhcYmW5gYLmOss6fWsTI4dchIxrqkkmkb201h62u_XbkX52fGokfEaAQgqIUj660iXmBYOJT45XaF/s1600/DavidKate.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59FbzZCElPBTBUXj1N0OJ43dl3oIsuK0sdtzoskN3TMpadNrWoMIN3E6KP_k6GFzzhcYmW5gYLmOss6fWsTI4dchIxrqkkmkb201h62u_XbkX52fGokfEaAQgqIUj660iXmBYOJT45XaF/s400/DavidKate.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David & Kate (photo Gary Larsen)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
What sees us without being seen?</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFW9ZLMCnLpyXh4Ec6ZAW-J7MhlIr2rqe97hQvpVWXGK5txuLuwP1uwk2NEt2pHfcPRWDBdwHRPMgENfS7v3GBbsTBleQqSbcz7BhRdgSDhkKJgYcs7wgJAtgfKmjYGZ_KGsu9UKHUi_7/s1600/Castlerigg-Stone-Circle-01.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFW9ZLMCnLpyXh4Ec6ZAW-J7MhlIr2rqe97hQvpVWXGK5txuLuwP1uwk2NEt2pHfcPRWDBdwHRPMgENfS7v3GBbsTBleQqSbcz7BhRdgSDhkKJgYcs7wgJAtgfKmjYGZ_KGsu9UKHUi_7/s400/Castlerigg-Stone-Circle-01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr align="center"><td class="tr-caption">Castlerigg - Stone Circle, Keswick</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Strange fits of passion I have known </i>- Wm. Wordsworth</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfHZBwQzkFaz3cP1OlWhauKdXf1OXRawSOGQaYZppHpwQ7F8pFDZE8pm8avHPXT9AH4MIRb-Cw8ijuQHXv3SztfkG97f8IpXSKReoGR0Zc7cAPSvjbKd0Hx-LIxxtSBQGyHGFcDtKUI0f/s1600/standing+stones+with+Jules.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfHZBwQzkFaz3cP1OlWhauKdXf1OXRawSOGQaYZppHpwQ7F8pFDZE8pm8avHPXT9AH4MIRb-Cw8ijuQHXv3SztfkG97f8IpXSKReoGR0Zc7cAPSvjbKd0Hx-LIxxtSBQGyHGFcDtKUI0f/s320/standing+stones+with+Jules.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standing Stones with Jules</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eiL8KSzmUegHW3TUBmjqo9gpspIRpqjzfNwIJGKo7Dv4TPD0b_UqSzs63CLMuMyUQL5bhoO8Vgqp4WLNgkLrm-_pazx2PMpALCoOUTfnFdufjjdeIwsg85wRf2BpV3DtbR2GidaB-Ktg/s1600/Arlene+at+Lanrigg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eiL8KSzmUegHW3TUBmjqo9gpspIRpqjzfNwIJGKo7Dv4TPD0b_UqSzs63CLMuMyUQL5bhoO8Vgqp4WLNgkLrm-_pazx2PMpALCoOUTfnFdufjjdeIwsg85wRf2BpV3DtbR2GidaB-Ktg/s320/Arlene+at+Lanrigg.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arlene at Lancrigg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Falling towards the center of longing - futures foretold - cards read for the Pilgrims.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6zXrsWpGOIwgCnNbLBUnBTu0h-dCMSJH-zRauslq_dbSHlhbC7hzOcLMJA_R7Eye5-Od7qT36KeiTQBhV5zIAchriD9BjhQ3OIaNKYABvbcvYTbtetbmJGiLovA_NQC9RnxpNPEStR9t/s1600/MouthofTruth.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6zXrsWpGOIwgCnNbLBUnBTu0h-dCMSJH-zRauslq_dbSHlhbC7hzOcLMJA_R7Eye5-Od7qT36KeiTQBhV5zIAchriD9BjhQ3OIaNKYABvbcvYTbtetbmJGiLovA_NQC9RnxpNPEStR9t/s200/MouthofTruth.jpg" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mouth of Truth (Italy Tarot Tour 2012)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pZ_gSacHAf_hezZ1Ih2xu0sY2JER9TuiyEaEJJHpdmt7LqkFx1PlNFvvsVFk4MskhyphenhyphenyK-hwo5SSvrJJC6RLOhf8IsclJMAnf9irdh0HFuN5lGNNrEyuAU7ty9JaTYpjXVVMv_C9FI_5d/s1600/Karmic+Key+of+Destiny.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pZ_gSacHAf_hezZ1Ih2xu0sY2JER9TuiyEaEJJHpdmt7LqkFx1PlNFvvsVFk4MskhyphenhyphenyK-hwo5SSvrJJC6RLOhf8IsclJMAnf9irdh0HFuN5lGNNrEyuAU7ty9JaTYpjXVVMv_C9FI_5d/s320/Karmic+Key+of+Destiny.jpg" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lenormand Revolution - Carrie Paris/Roz Foster</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3IkGInpm1MiRjWBoBkwgkhFjmQPftIDspBXi_dDebuS36nW3dkMJ8Tm95XUMcf1lhATCnTqXAlKzd8aQSeEeXP8ziNFyZrayIprqSGsIhQL4ozpVGu3iiqyAfYssUV2i18QNJ8ca5l-XB/s1600/_From+Erin.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3IkGInpm1MiRjWBoBkwgkhFjmQPftIDspBXi_dDebuS36nW3dkMJ8Tm95XUMcf1lhATCnTqXAlKzd8aQSeEeXP8ziNFyZrayIprqSGsIhQL4ozpVGu3iiqyAfYssUV2i18QNJ8ca5l-XB/s640/_From+Erin.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lakes District - (Photo Erin Stuckey)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6YoArGEyZbKWw8wt_dR1k3qCFEk6oSY5x3zb_dP4f2-gyt-uvwndgaoFofGGhxOXxwfD77FLqT3_IELrkhVxzcoLIFGqjsIbI3Ppg5eat-hosYpaLCH39EqslK8p_eeoyKZTQyg24S4a/s1600/Viewfromwindowbankgroundfarm.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6YoArGEyZbKWw8wt_dR1k3qCFEk6oSY5x3zb_dP4f2-gyt-uvwndgaoFofGGhxOXxwfD77FLqT3_IELrkhVxzcoLIFGqjsIbI3Ppg5eat-hosYpaLCH39EqslK8p_eeoyKZTQyg24S4a/s320/Viewfromwindowbankgroundfarm.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from window - Bank Ground Farm</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bank Ground Farm - Dusk</td></tr>
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<i>Sometimes the truth depends upon a walk around the lake</i>. - Wallace Stevens </div>
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<i>Sadness the blue like dusk, the reminder that all things are ephemeral, and that because there is time, there is change and that another name for change, if you look back toward what is vanishing in the distance, is loss.</i></div>
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Rebecca Solnit, The Faraway Nearby</div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">FINISTERRE</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">The road in the end taking the path the sun had taken,<br /> into the western sea, and the moon rising behind you<br /> as you stood where ground turned to ocean: no way<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> to your future now but the way your shadow could take,<br /> walking before you across water, going where shadows go,<br /> no way to make sense of a world that wouldnât let you pass<br /> except to call an end to the way you had come,<br /> to take out each frayed letter you had brought<br /> and light their illumined corners; and to read<br /> them as they drifted on the late western light;<br /> to empty your bags; to sort this and to leave that;<br /> to promise what you needed to promise all along,<br /> and to abandon the shoes that brought you here<br /> right at the waterâs edge, not because you had given up<br /> but because now, you would find a different way to tread,<br /> and because, through it all, part of you would still walk on,<br /> no matter how, over the waves.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> âŠ</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"> Finisterre.<br /> From PILGRIM : Poems by David Whyte<br /> Many Rivers Press © 2012 David Whyte</span></div>
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<i> Go Gently - It takes a long time before one learns to take one's place in one's own life.</i></div>
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<i> </i>John O' Donohue</div>
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<i>âEvery work cancels the dark. Every work is a hymn from the other side
of memory to a memory that is spellbound. Beauty is death's gift to
vulgar life so that it can live in beauty.â </i></div>
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<tr><td class="mbox-image"><br /></td><td class="mbox-text"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"> Edmond</span> <span class="hps">JabĂšs, The Book of Questions, Volume I</span></span></td></tr>
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<b></b><span id="quote_book_link_531580"><i></i> </span></div>
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To begin, begin.</div>
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William Wordsworth</div>
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CAPC - Bordeaux Contemporary Museum </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alejandro Jodorowsky Retrospective - September 2015</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AMEN</td></tr>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-9467730013762246912015-07-31T15:55:00.000-07:002015-08-08T02:36:03.752-07:00CUMBRIA, A Holy Longing, Part II - Augurs, Omens, Visitations & Murmurations & A Blue Moon<br />
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I listened, motionless and still; And, as I<br />
mounted up the hill, The music in my heart<br />
I bore, Long after it was heard no more.<br />
William Wordsworth</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdvACHtDqKJGdBBzzWjcAMm29qx3KqP0INUfREQB7GVvMBx9XkCQgcwrs2JDBny83TivLZm6_CarPKHEB6lvOAhyphenhyphenUBay0sPD_sS1e-nYanx3CKAa5wUwFMPbINu_yts27BZLUxdfmQgsOg/s1600/Waterfall+rudy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdvACHtDqKJGdBBzzWjcAMm29qx3KqP0INUfREQB7GVvMBx9XkCQgcwrs2JDBny83TivLZm6_CarPKHEB6lvOAhyphenhyphenUBay0sPD_sS1e-nYanx3CKAa5wUwFMPbINu_yts27BZLUxdfmQgsOg/s640/Waterfall+rudy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cumbria, Lakes District - July 2015</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-8WxuWBjEfWh93-6jYjyhiERIKdYIYFw62_4kGAvTBzVghgn9kuJdzx-03ZzLf_SLzfoJ-Aw4SjGgI1czcDIIHTeyLjF9vx6MtrZMCQwXQYLhuF5SOL02eGfCMRHws6fvgwSg8t-bMFl/s1600/lenormandread.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3-8WxuWBjEfWh93-6jYjyhiERIKdYIYFw62_4kGAvTBzVghgn9kuJdzx-03ZzLf_SLzfoJ-Aw4SjGgI1czcDIIHTeyLjF9vx6MtrZMCQwXQYLhuF5SOL02eGfCMRHws6fvgwSg8t-bMFl/s400/lenormandread.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heart+Mountain+Sun - Lenormand Revolution, Cartomancy </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JIWUQNqG4cyYIhZZvwvDoEURgjprWWQTlTkekj51gc6ltOadws3aEsmsGjslMmhNyLRgsFlcCyFyGYLVVXLGGJrXCs3t1dqOkhGzdBxVcqQ2Cv9pxXg00tpRX-z5jZ_Iaamx1vlZPTXG/s1600/Window+of+the+nook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JIWUQNqG4cyYIhZZvwvDoEURgjprWWQTlTkekj51gc6ltOadws3aEsmsGjslMmhNyLRgsFlcCyFyGYLVVXLGGJrXCs3t1dqOkhGzdBxVcqQ2Cv9pxXg00tpRX-z5jZ_Iaamx1vlZPTXG/s320/Window+of+the+nook.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Illumination - Bank Ground Farm, Coniston</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #ffd966;">June was a fluid, almost unnerving month of augurs, visitations and signs. The Holy Longing was slowly unfolding and each time a starling arrived, or I met a serpent on the road, I realized the messages were stacking up, along with the challenge of how to best interpret them? I had contracted to do some tarot readings in July in the UK, but the Lakes District was not in the mix. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">My "Shining Prince" - Vital Energy, Elixir of Life,</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">Immortality </span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgweMiPMLauI7D0agiHL6rzFKc4rhtnSwPFG8pVGMPf9Sg0-X01DXl3PMHLSVJAWWklvYZYPQ8DSzPgTKCu-_8qk2rNjfT-yjApJAlTe4orJVVKG80igZAH_ZTt2aLOP5IVkeLY-mh40jL7/s1600/Here+he+is+my+shining+Prince.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgweMiPMLauI7D0agiHL6rzFKc4rhtnSwPFG8pVGMPf9Sg0-X01DXl3PMHLSVJAWWklvYZYPQ8DSzPgTKCu-_8qk2rNjfT-yjApJAlTe4orJVVKG80igZAH_ZTt2aLOP5IVkeLY-mh40jL7/s200/Here+he+is+my+shining+Prince.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Viper on the road to Grassac</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpisHs3sQxzixaSelENMhUS4mwzNENyhTXE_TrDCMj89JDl5gfJ1nitgqjss4Y4xCGzcG0WBg4Iv1juXIEZuEEsaBfaft-chaonWdWB2hzuIAm6vF2Dy-iCmTlZVnr1_7WrGOiFkco2B1/s1600/Serpent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpisHs3sQxzixaSelENMhUS4mwzNENyhTXE_TrDCMj89JDl5gfJ1nitgqjss4Y4xCGzcG0WBg4Iv1juXIEZuEEsaBfaft-chaonWdWB2hzuIAm6vF2Dy-iCmTlZVnr1_7WrGOiFkco2B1/s200/Serpent.jpg" width="140" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Serpent - Lenormand Revolution</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #ffd966;">I usually think about shedding an old skin when I see a</span><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;">snake; illusions and limitations, rejuvenation - wisdom</span><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;">and knowledge on one hand, treachery & deceit on another. </span><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;">Religious and mythical differences exist between snakes and serpents,</span><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;">but I'm not going to get into that here. </span><br />
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Photos Guido Mocafico: <i> </i>www.guidomocafico.com <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_UynCM4oGvXqbuezz-0BeY25o9IyoeXMj-ceupdtPH4i2WmwqKHSbBhJnF75tecujaIE8wQElKksu01xBKutsGzcRw9kjpoByiZwE0218YZRVovR_y6KV2xf7WpyGZkHOO10GS1Y_uGzO/s1600/snakes2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_UynCM4oGvXqbuezz-0BeY25o9IyoeXMj-ceupdtPH4i2WmwqKHSbBhJnF75tecujaIE8wQElKksu01xBKutsGzcRw9kjpoByiZwE0218YZRVovR_y6KV2xf7WpyGZkHOO10GS1Y_uGzO/s200/snakes2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Revelation, Serpent = Beast/Devil </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkq5QiBZr3GmImBv1lgXmHOrD6YuA8Q7U9jx_ol5wxWoHbkhpVdzT21J5AduwZgFDGsoX9vFf5sSdjWAONon0HtCnyY_tZJQuKDKOprP0anGttPVNGL8lRMRuzwgXtdszRvbkUE_LMVRgZ/s1600/snakes5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkq5QiBZr3GmImBv1lgXmHOrD6YuA8Q7U9jx_ol5wxWoHbkhpVdzT21J5AduwZgFDGsoX9vFf5sSdjWAONon0HtCnyY_tZJQuKDKOprP0anGttPVNGL8lRMRuzwgXtdszRvbkUE_LMVRgZ/s320/snakes5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Genesis, Snake jumpstarts the Sin-mobile</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #ffd966;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;">In the Lenormand cartomancy tradition, it is the Queen of Clubs: </span><br />
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<span style="color: #ffd966;">could be a female rival or, an older, intellectual wise woman with glasses</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ffd966;">(like me!) or a detour, a misfortune, medical issue, betrayal, adultery.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ffd966;">You might just need to clean your pipes, or maybe things are coming</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ffd966;">full circle. "Surround" yourself with like-minded people, who will lift you </span><br />
<span style="color: #ffd966;">up, or show you something you haven't dreamed of, like Diaz's mural below. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWPjiW4qY_aoI3LnndIc2Sos7gmfxus4Lvknjfn4qOQe6y9pKy0S3gHc8y671HkLgZpyhFNJSRGIdKuPgfzX8pAxuOjPnJMzf9Nby9uMQA-NwFGFSbP09zryUrnrMCF5L5rE3ZCl09VlHG/s1600/alexis-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWPjiW4qY_aoI3LnndIc2Sos7gmfxus4Lvknjfn4qOQe6y9pKy0S3gHc8y671HkLgZpyhFNJSRGIdKuPgfzX8pAxuOjPnJMzf9Nby9uMQA-NwFGFSbP09zryUrnrMCF5L5rE3ZCl09VlHG/s400/alexis-3.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mural - Alexis Diaz</td></tr>
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<i>I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone</i>. Rainer Maria Rilke<br />
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Earlier in June, we had three baby starlings on our window sill, making
a racket, whistling and screeching. Vocally talented they can mimic a
whole range of calls, songs & sounds like car engines, and fragments of human speech, weaving them into soliloquies. Mozart had a pet starling, purchased on May 27, 1784 from a pet store he frequented. He wrote down the melody whistled by the bird, which closely resembles his Piano Concerto in G Major, K. 453, the last movement. The bird did make a key change and later research studies showed that mimicry in Starlings is less frequent than improvisation. When his little songbird died after three years, Mozart gave him a proper and solemn burial, commemorating the loss with a poem.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkYD4SLvWh3qYcSUH75pVd17P7QkVsT1kI2NVZazJCWWTxzvrjkVSRY21lXQ3KSpgKHlwpq0lgAkID5PenCjX3u6Jbf_MbohUFGwvz1NxTFQZev0Smyq1kmY7Qy96_I1mXsAkxiAyodaoA/s1600/baby-starling-015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkYD4SLvWh3qYcSUH75pVd17P7QkVsT1kI2NVZazJCWWTxzvrjkVSRY21lXQ3KSpgKHlwpq0lgAkID5PenCjX3u6Jbf_MbohUFGwvz1NxTFQZev0Smyq1kmY7Qy96_I1mXsAkxiAyodaoA/s320/baby-starling-015.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starling waiting for his siblings</td></tr>
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For some reason, these talented creatures have been much maligned, though prized in Netherlands, Spain and France as a food source. I came across a recipe for Starling Pùté...eeeeeek! Though it does have Armagnac and Juniper berries in it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And it's locally produced</td></tr>
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I don't know why, but it made me think of Clarice Starling from "Silence of the Lambs" - Chianti & fava beans.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdRwOq-GZxF40TRJKUNZ9TpYF46igvGWg2iNB36_D3wZACIOolgSsCoXyMyM-f9fzQ7zvKSAHiWCFXe5ScXq_Jq3W2dbey8tfeCAloqi3nPPs8UNEexyYb203yGy-5Uf0c0G561F-b-kG/s1600/Silenceoflambs1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdRwOq-GZxF40TRJKUNZ9TpYF46igvGWg2iNB36_D3wZACIOolgSsCoXyMyM-f9fzQ7zvKSAHiWCFXe5ScXq_Jq3W2dbey8tfeCAloqi3nPPs8UNEexyYb203yGy-5Uf0c0G561F-b-kG/s320/Silenceoflambs1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anthony Hopkins & Jodie Foster</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13dygD6lnRrQhO3UE5h-b7xgwiDLdHWBZ6SLJHrsTWxkI8n_f8EtJltq7bJXngzs2qRFUmNlOfEHBiHIzY7-wthp38yOeJhudiG-uD8GrdwPqXhfCY2y-f2H6EFD6A3od6u7_gb8ihyLv/s1600/Starling+nest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13dygD6lnRrQhO3UE5h-b7xgwiDLdHWBZ6SLJHrsTWxkI8n_f8EtJltq7bJXngzs2qRFUmNlOfEHBiHIzY7-wthp38yOeJhudiG-uD8GrdwPqXhfCY2y-f2H6EFD6A3od6u7_gb8ihyLv/s400/Starling+nest.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starling Nest</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANJcc-b0EOUi4Za0hDDzVcAC1rgKqV2ek9z5sfNNVVxRj6xLHfFrwB15UfDm021Uc4ackTUbn6taB_fREVrxAUWwDSk_mjU3HpC_GvjnsIkjeZSBku4-RP-AQj_PNlQD58SGQRbhey3yi/s1600/european_starling-dpaulson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANJcc-b0EOUi4Za0hDDzVcAC1rgKqV2ek9z5sfNNVVxRj6xLHfFrwB15UfDm021Uc4ackTUbn6taB_fREVrxAUWwDSk_mjU3HpC_GvjnsIkjeZSBku4-RP-AQj_PNlQD58SGQRbhey3yi/s200/european_starling-dpaulson.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">European Starling - Isn't he beautiful?</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;">If you observe starlings closely, you can learn things about etiquette, social standing, family relationships. The intricacies of their vocalizations and nuances of communication, coupled with their clear, piercing expression, is a shining example of where one might take one's voice in the world. Their sensitivity to each other and how they work together as a unit in their airy world, reminds me of one of the interpretations of the Lenormand Oiseaux (Birds) card: "Divine Thoughts".</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjsO_3Qg_cLmmsGdPvfYR1hAv9jJ4hxH30ktPFaBySiDE635aho8oNsdCKQxOFtEWIvl7T7DajtvKsTZBnNzvv4WCYnu5-GaoBnrw7OBTQg4K5hZYocA1lrFhaZjiB-G7vV4LsbW-x1sm3/s1600/12-nest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjsO_3Qg_cLmmsGdPvfYR1hAv9jJ4hxH30ktPFaBySiDE635aho8oNsdCKQxOFtEWIvl7T7DajtvKsTZBnNzvv4WCYnu5-GaoBnrw7OBTQg4K5hZYocA1lrFhaZjiB-G7vV4LsbW-x1sm3/s320/12-nest.jpg" width="195" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Petit Lenormand, Dondorf Deck</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;"><i>"Only we pass everything by like an exchange of air. And all is in
accord, to keep us a secret, perhaps half out of shame and half out of
some inexpressible hope.</i>" Duino Elegies, Second Elegy</span><br />
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;">I saw my first starling "murmuration", pre-roosting phenomenon, in a field in the Dordogne. I didn't have a camera, but I doubt I could have captured the exquisite ballet at dusk. I was swept away by the swooping and swirling; the sound like a wave or a small tornado and yet there was such a silence in the center of it. And I remembered the poem, "the Holy Longing," and words teetering on a cliff's edge, waiting to be borne, 20 years ago in Ireland. Such a stirring inside me; a holy listening. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo - Fayez Nureldine</td></tr>
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Some say starlings are messengers from the spirit realms, signaling the end of one cycle and beginning of another. The Irish and Gaelic word for starling is "druid". See how it all fits together!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcsSH8mCRxXgCoQWyk4WKkHTmQUhlsm0iJZcG6CXr9D9yEJxGH-i32RumER3QzTxrJDr_l0z63eot3bbzR8yccU23T_gVlfVHfWWr07RYfggCuK92ONBUP2yg_QwifFjq_DfdmGuqEimY-/s1600/wonders-in-the-sky-studying-a-mu-1024x576.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcsSH8mCRxXgCoQWyk4WKkHTmQUhlsm0iJZcG6CXr9D9yEJxGH-i32RumER3QzTxrJDr_l0z63eot3bbzR8yccU23T_gVlfVHfWWr07RYfggCuK92ONBUP2yg_QwifFjq_DfdmGuqEimY-/s320/wonders-in-the-sky-studying-a-mu-1024x576.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Murmurations of Starlings - Marseille, France</td></tr>
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"Recently scientists have been able to apply high-powered video analysis and computational modeling to
flocks of starlings which has revealed patterns related more to physics
than biology. They describe the flocks with equations of "critical
transitions" - systems that are poised to be almost instantly and
completely transformed, like metals becoming magnetized or liquid
turning to gas. Each starling in a flock is connected to every other. When a flock turns in unison, it's a phase transition.
When a neighbor moves, so do you, and depending on the flock's size and
speed, member's flight physiologies, the large scale pattern changes.
What is not known is how criticality is created and maintained." <i><br /></i></div>
From Wired.com, Brandon Keim (Science)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XeuPsBRBv2yCD7eFxqea-QyRiL5pRDc07VET6jswz37Ipfr5ZwuObJiBj4XGmzgZCnqnuqbHQtPqjsDerZ1qNIY65dM0kcgv9Qyi5YJaTqbaCx0K2NXIFgzYcs-M8qBHKCVuSJv4-Bvi/s1600/Birds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XeuPsBRBv2yCD7eFxqea-QyRiL5pRDc07VET6jswz37Ipfr5ZwuObJiBj4XGmzgZCnqnuqbHQtPqjsDerZ1qNIY65dM0kcgv9Qyi5YJaTqbaCx0K2NXIFgzYcs-M8qBHKCVuSJv4-Bvi/s400/Birds.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bank Ground Farm, Coniston, Lakes District, July 2015</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcEEDI5eSjjGyOFFiuWcBPEdLayEq41g5i2r6UnLg_mQdoPqKN9_3R6S8ksRNG70IIpJ7BIMecfivoCN8HKBq9VRA-_kTI2016jR6ImUxhODMD69B_tME2hoD0uTXL9WC_XAmrK4dUljM/s1600/Swallows+%2526+Amazons+Tea+Room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcEEDI5eSjjGyOFFiuWcBPEdLayEq41g5i2r6UnLg_mQdoPqKN9_3R6S8ksRNG70IIpJ7BIMecfivoCN8HKBq9VRA-_kTI2016jR6ImUxhODMD69B_tME2hoD0uTXL9WC_XAmrK4dUljM/s320/Swallows+%2526+Amazons+Tea+Room.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bank Ground Farm - Coniston </td></tr>
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Later that day I received a text from Julie at Many Rivers in Langley, Wash., letting me know that there was a space opening up in David Whyte's Lakes poetry tour - with one small hitch: it was about two weeks away. It seemed impossible with all the commitments I had locked into place, here, there, everywhere. Travel arrangements, I'm so bad at them, I'm like Lucille Ball on steroids...and I don't have any of those nice flying perks, mile high clubs or extra miles to get 3 more inches of leg room in steerage. I started to check out trains, boats and planes...and waffled. </div>
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The next day I was coming back from doing some readings for a large group at a private house near Paussac and St. Vivienne, & I stumbled upon a Neolithic Dolmen, the <i>Dolmen de Peyrelevade.</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Oiv5h5WLIAPn1BLYIzut9UrCxmB33jijMSzOKO8uyUqXjAwAwAGkk2ABcqWqxkMNgA8h9NidWqLUyaHOC_MlKDBKVcZCalLEtlpeK_The0RlZelch6kGUyd_Gq7fCJxAJFKJi-fLYVE0/s1600/Dolmen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Oiv5h5WLIAPn1BLYIzut9UrCxmB33jijMSzOKO8uyUqXjAwAwAGkk2ABcqWqxkMNgA8h9NidWqLUyaHOC_MlKDBKVcZCalLEtlpeK_The0RlZelch6kGUyd_Gq7fCJxAJFKJi-fLYVE0/s400/Dolmen.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dolmen de Peyrelevade - Paussac et St. Vivienne</td></tr>
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And since I had my two decks with me I decided to pull some cards and see if I could get some clarity about pending travels. Oh, I forgot to mention, there was also a giant stone hand along the route. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarl Constant et Fils</td></tr>
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And a Sanglier with a boot </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHc0rFv1Nw0bXZ67qKno2UN_YsVZd-LByVvq9ytqG_8EXF8hoitsgJzULpyBTE4EYQC4lNogWZQjJTtj5FFtajK8OslnioYQxrMOg3x4l2O5u7r6IxfOsVGv9hkNZbJev-6l1Met8N8gt/s1600/Swiftness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHc0rFv1Nw0bXZ67qKno2UN_YsVZd-LByVvq9ytqG_8EXF8hoitsgJzULpyBTE4EYQC4lNogWZQjJTtj5FFtajK8OslnioYQxrMOg3x4l2O5u7r6IxfOsVGv9hkNZbJev-6l1Met8N8gt/s320/Swiftness.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">8 of Wands - Swiftness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRqfQfqIAxXhh7yLwsUqU-PJ4cK4dR1nisSo_kSFsKQ3Ydr7DQRjz8SQNAoS0scpsaE-mlQS547-6lOXDpIwNEJ6HHIMpv0PF4FQCQ3MVre0KBMu4URHVI6xn_8uGBfI8u_Yx1PGCd5p3/s1600/Sanglier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRqfQfqIAxXhh7yLwsUqU-PJ4cK4dR1nisSo_kSFsKQ3Ydr7DQRjz8SQNAoS0scpsaE-mlQS547-6lOXDpIwNEJ6HHIMpv0PF4FQCQ3MVre0KBMu4URHVI6xn_8uGBfI8u_Yx1PGCd5p3/s200/Sanglier.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarl Constant et Fils</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdjbkG5QMLIK3tP_H-h3U6biv7och3wErLCI1MaC1yU5vWPV8NSogjT-CeHSC92t_6QihZJhnFt1CEv7LMdg_e4rWyOcbdTshjOcXU_4nTi854j03xsl66EpSAjHLLbGH2q7dWzgLxd_b2/s1600/Tower+stone+wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdjbkG5QMLIK3tP_H-h3U6biv7och3wErLCI1MaC1yU5vWPV8NSogjT-CeHSC92t_6QihZJhnFt1CEv7LMdg_e4rWyOcbdTshjOcXU_4nTi854j03xsl66EpSAjHLLbGH2q7dWzgLxd_b2/s320/Tower+stone+wall.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Tower - XVI</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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I got the Tower in both decks + Swiftness. So the Fool (that's me) felt as if a lightning bolt had just opened up my inner eye and flashed a "Change" sign in Neon. The Tower is a card of revelation and liberation - so no pfaffing about. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTiJE0nL-YAwDhpCQ9aydu8IQ0_UfNYjM2kBJLpN00HRBMrx_hazKsEKTpvDIdiO-6tXN2Gv-4xswLvd0TrgnewYwlBeqNpZQl6i7aRGipCvuR1gpWPaGIc6QFARdSWpGmQ1-JR1OR5mx/s1600/Reading+paussac2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTiJE0nL-YAwDhpCQ9aydu8IQ0_UfNYjM2kBJLpN00HRBMrx_hazKsEKTpvDIdiO-6tXN2Gv-4xswLvd0TrgnewYwlBeqNpZQl6i7aRGipCvuR1gpWPaGIc6QFARdSWpGmQ1-JR1OR5mx/s320/Reading+paussac2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lenormand Revolution 7 card line reading</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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And as if all the augurs, signs, omens, murmurations etc. weren't enough, that night I had a "visitation" which cinched it all. </div>
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The rest of the story will have to wait for the next installment because tonight I'm reading the cards at the Vertaillac night market, and I must get my dog and pony show on the way. It is a Blue Moon a-risin' which should make for a very atmospheric evening. </div>
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Yet to come: French air controller strike, trains cancelled due to canicule (heat wave), spending the night in Prayer room at Manchester Airport, a Celtic Pilgrimage, the stone circle at Keswick, tarot readings for Peregrinas & Peregrinos, Cards, Clouds, Coffins, Crosses, Contracts, Cows, Crows and Crisps, Celestial Music, Invisible World, Incantation, Imperium Light...stories, stories, stories, and much much more.</div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>Strange fits of passion I have known</i> - Wordsworth</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bank Ground Farm - Coniston, July 2015</td></tr>
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</span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">- </i>Blue Hour, On Earth - C. Forché<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></div>
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In a mythical time, crow and weasel set out on a trip north. They
learn the value of friendship, the necessity of giving thanks, and a
respect for the land.</div>
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<i>Remember on this one thing, said Badger. The stories people tell have a
way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them.
And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person
needs a story more than food to stay alive. That is why we put these
stories in each other's memories. This is how people care for
themselves. -</i> Barry Lopez, Crow & Weasel
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cumbria - Lakes District, July 2015</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slate Heart found by Kate on the Mountain</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-74093230714655300562015-06-25T13:43:00.000-07:002015-07-23T07:14:07.731-07:00THE HOLY LONGING Part I - A Diary of Beauty & Bella da Morire<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>All roads start from the body and lead back to it.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>The Body is the Road - </i></span><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">Edmond JabĂšs, Egyptian Poet </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"> </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5MxalMQAqOZtQBsgRqslJrQBU2pnAC5X-QasWjxEMBuQGgNxmq_81YNSzcsiYjyzARzXeSgEYA_N8WdrgmqMePTMloYluZNwJRsbWs3tRSmM2ijmzCMa__wtr707FuMrDcA_IpGOsWzAP/s1600/The+stage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5MxalMQAqOZtQBsgRqslJrQBU2pnAC5X-QasWjxEMBuQGgNxmq_81YNSzcsiYjyzARzXeSgEYA_N8WdrgmqMePTMloYluZNwJRsbWs3tRSmM2ijmzCMa__wtr707FuMrDcA_IpGOsWzAP/s640/The+stage.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chateau de la Mercerie, Magnac-Lavalette - The stage before arrival of French-Irish band, Dagan - May 2015</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">The Holy Longing</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Tell a wise person or else keep silent,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">because the mass man will mock it right away.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">I praise what is truly alive,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">what longs to be burned to death. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">In the calm water of love-nights,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">where you were begotten, where you have begotten.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">a strange feeling comes over you,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">when you see the silent candle burning.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Now you are no longer caught in the obsession with darkness,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">and a desire for higher love-making sweeps you upward.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Distance does not make you falter.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Now, arriving in magic, flying,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">and finally, insane for the light,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">you are the butterfly and you are gone.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">And so long as you haven't experienced this: to die and so to grow,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">you are only a troubled guest on the dark earth. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, translated from the Germany by Robert Bly</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutzOXlN1E2mzSWH9W-GgaOVHTwuNJ0srINMY9gxeuy78TrGP1liPfWSxYuUpzxtm5itQ0nI9sY0TRSwXorLSgam4nZ9FgWv2BDnFMzNwYB0g7SdaRlnG5pskhguTWEQ7QrgyqcVpGp_U9/s1600/InvocationDagan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutzOXlN1E2mzSWH9W-GgaOVHTwuNJ0srINMY9gxeuy78TrGP1liPfWSxYuUpzxtm5itQ0nI9sY0TRSwXorLSgam4nZ9FgWv2BDnFMzNwYB0g7SdaRlnG5pskhguTWEQ7QrgyqcVpGp_U9/s320/InvocationDagan.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Invocation - Dagan</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Ah5AX1m6bAvwDaJwE7el9eUbmqK31i4Cu_t0OjqUGouP9cjySvuOLLsh3LDe1SLCoAShOPH8ZGSIqDz6pkvDNfaPCMuUGcBDcRrCowyTKj6U3jWj8S3YgeKt4tHWKy4k9d86922fL0IW/s1600/Daganguitarist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Ah5AX1m6bAvwDaJwE7el9eUbmqK31i4Cu_t0OjqUGouP9cjySvuOLLsh3LDe1SLCoAShOPH8ZGSIqDz6pkvDNfaPCMuUGcBDcRrCowyTKj6U3jWj8S3YgeKt4tHWKy4k9d86922fL0IW/s200/Daganguitarist.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPY1IVhJHJqRBiRld7SS4Ny8ZVT6f1F5p6iJB_RB46JSjyMjp4B_0byVztduWDkmA4Pfs7_VElc_BVGNQyltlEVtsdohE-RxXuDkHG63U3Qy5BUw_EuLRRMdHd_MsGh_TouLPNeBUClIC/s1600/Daganviolinist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPY1IVhJHJqRBiRld7SS4Ny8ZVT6f1F5p6iJB_RB46JSjyMjp4B_0byVztduWDkmA4Pfs7_VElc_BVGNQyltlEVtsdohE-RxXuDkHG63U3Qy5BUw_EuLRRMdHd_MsGh_TouLPNeBUClIC/s320/Daganviolinist.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDqiVzH_bzsLNE4xsmQX6PzqmWpZeK_dJulx0B5HFemAXQMKgE7i1igh2t5nPbcMFrbGa8t-wMm1hlh-J5v_VlPekIHWyCnihhxJQPY-42tS6G_Tl3OkaXERzF3pqCvapJfPJnw2XR_-3/s1600/ItaliantileMercurie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDqiVzH_bzsLNE4xsmQX6PzqmWpZeK_dJulx0B5HFemAXQMKgE7i1igh2t5nPbcMFrbGa8t-wMm1hlh-J5v_VlPekIHWyCnihhxJQPY-42tS6G_Tl3OkaXERzF3pqCvapJfPJnw2XR_-3/s400/ItaliantileMercurie.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Italian Tile - Chateau de la Mercerie</td></tr>
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Often, I feel like a "troubled guest" upon this earth. Oh, what to do, what to do? Another cappuccino? glass of wine? Episode of "House of Cards?" In French, the word for guest is <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">invité</span></span>, an endearing word, because it means to be invited. We are not merely hungry guests or ghosts upon this earth. We received an invitation, which we accepted. We belong here, for awhile. <br />
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The gorgeous poet, Seamus Heaney said, (paraphrasing), we dwell in the fantasy world as well as the "get-up and at "em" day to day, and if we dwell too much in either one, it's not good. My antidote: A Diary of Beauty, wherever you happen upon it. And beauty is on offer everywhere; cracked and spider-webbed statues, an old dog in the sun, hay bales, wheat fields, a tangle of poppies, cows and cascading roses, or pawing through Leondard da Vinci's Notebooks. Among his lists of drawings, between Gian Francesco Borso and some completed nude figures, <i>lies several old women's throats</i>.<br />
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If only Nora Ephron had seen those drawings, she wouldn't have had to write a whole book about her crinkling neck. But I'm glad she did. She made us laugh over and over about our human foibles and especially the vanties of women. We miss you Nora, your brazen humor and bedazzling brain.<br />
<br />
"...the amount of maintenance involving hair is genuinely overwhelming. Sometimes I think that not having to worry about your hair anymore is the secret upside of death."<br />
â
<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5691.Nora_Ephron">Nora Ephron</a>,
</span><i>
<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2516574">I Feel Bad about My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman</a></span></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJZBFbC3Yjcr_KcOGq2ASbz2kEM7dbcUzUWM4c1XKahNWeo8UyJviZQxtjW7oz7Uytmi0fOOIwJCaIlvVB0IJoi4Q2j6kBeXj7NYiLepHl3vPAqY4C5cS-pHnn8h7139TGqZTQAxRbhRM/s1600/Algerian+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJZBFbC3Yjcr_KcOGq2ASbz2kEM7dbcUzUWM4c1XKahNWeo8UyJviZQxtjW7oz7Uytmi0fOOIwJCaIlvVB0IJoi4Q2j6kBeXj7NYiLepHl3vPAqY4C5cS-pHnn8h7139TGqZTQAxRbhRM/s320/Algerian+woman.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;"><i>Found on blessedwildapplegirl.Tumblr.com</i></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;"></span><br /></td></tr>
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</span></i><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: white;">This Algerian woman doesn't look worried about her neck. During the late 50's and 60's, many Algerian women tattooed their faces and necks (during the War of Independence) to appear unattractive and thus avoid rape by French soldiers. How times have changed - as far as tattoos are concerned. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Rbi0-Yi6BPqHSonXcZyNpIVZbxHJ4x_5ihjArCuP14zl8rQDzzBLMc8HQbVnJ4sLDLntZLDX8rUKgBtBj1KRaCkZCgdZvxtNskmMWo8Iq1Nz5BnO-baKQrBP8r0mDTmU2hvWms89KcvO/s1600/Bodnant+Gardens+-+Sphinx+like+Statue+II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Rbi0-Yi6BPqHSonXcZyNpIVZbxHJ4x_5ihjArCuP14zl8rQDzzBLMc8HQbVnJ4sLDLntZLDX8rUKgBtBj1KRaCkZCgdZvxtNskmMWo8Iq1Nz5BnO-baKQrBP8r0mDTmU2hvWms89KcvO/s400/Bodnant+Gardens+-+Sphinx+like+Statue+II.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bodnant Gardens, Wales - Sphinx-like Statue</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECxzG9bBzyPQNyBkrYqPp3RF8Lf8_tFElZVX8OVnJDyzk1BCtdIwGrTT3-q1rB22g4loW-3TrZzt72FGNf0doElBSV4CFLxhCDUijxJkhRvVk4jTifKpLMDo85kqM7qBRN_paHDPNUCyr/s1600/Head+Fountain+Chateau+La+Rochefoucauld.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECxzG9bBzyPQNyBkrYqPp3RF8Lf8_tFElZVX8OVnJDyzk1BCtdIwGrTT3-q1rB22g4loW-3TrZzt72FGNf0doElBSV4CFLxhCDUijxJkhRvVk4jTifKpLMDo85kqM7qBRN_paHDPNUCyr/s320/Head+Fountain+Chateau+La+Rochefoucauld.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fountain Head, Chateau de la Rochefoucauld</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHGwEhTfhHa6377B2PpdfqsfXV8_0QmlImwvL1O1gJ_LQ-2PGg6UauU3Odz5wv-ay_oJXHM4w-LPyfubD0xfmffNft4kLv6HhccdFLttiaTcWKrMSTGl4fO4TbAWcITFUWkPvvtmbFkwr/s1600/Statue+at+canal+Terrace+Bodnant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHGwEhTfhHa6377B2PpdfqsfXV8_0QmlImwvL1O1gJ_LQ-2PGg6UauU3Odz5wv-ay_oJXHM4w-LPyfubD0xfmffNft4kLv6HhccdFLttiaTcWKrMSTGl4fO4TbAWcITFUWkPvvtmbFkwr/s400/Statue+at+canal+Terrace+Bodnant.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue at Canal Terrace, Bodnant Gardens, Wales</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;">DUINO ELEGIES </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;">Ranier Maria Rilke</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;">FIRST ELEGY</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;"><i>Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the Angelic Orders?</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;"><i>and what if one of them would suddenly take me to his heart:</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;"><i>I would fade away in his stronger presence. Because beauty is</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;"><i>nothing else but the beginning of terror, which we are just able</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;"><i>destroy us. Each Angel is terrifying... </i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angel, Montparnasse Cemetery, Paris</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swimming Angel - Palazzo Pitti, Florence Italy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxYdga1QaOee3btbex2JtC4b6Kn6wgpcVJLuKlpIQ1ocI7c69BWXCFul4U_vR1K0AErPXUqv6XRwqKmAb4-jgkLG8ObYSNjQvAoEsB_17m0PbNo02Sdcj81kbVd-Dz6W6wPNWYFYVaW-I/s1600/BD+angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxYdga1QaOee3btbex2JtC4b6Kn6wgpcVJLuKlpIQ1ocI7c69BWXCFul4U_vR1K0AErPXUqv6XRwqKmAb4-jgkLG8ObYSNjQvAoEsB_17m0PbNo02Sdcj81kbVd-Dz6W6wPNWYFYVaW-I/s320/BD+angel.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bandes Dessinées Angel, side of building - Angouleme, France</td></tr>
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<i>"...Angels (they say) often do not know, whether they are moving among the living or the dead. The never-ending torrent relentlessly tosses all epochs through both realms forever, and drowns out their voices in both." </i>First Elegy</div>
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Many many moons ago, when I lived in New York, I would wander into the Metropolitan Museum - the wing where they house the collection of Egyptian artifacts<i>.</i> I would sit amongst the Mummies & Daddies (Sarcophagi) for long afternoons. I know it sounds morbid, but it wasn't. It was a cool, marble home away from home. It was the detailed gems that often caught my attention, e.g., a small, ivory comb decorated with rows of wild animals. Embarrassed to admit I had been watching the "Mummy" movies, the originals with Lon Chaney, Jr. (also Wolfman) and Boris Karloff, followed by</div>
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the Hammer Studio Horror series with Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. I never really became addicted to them as I did to Frankenstein and Count Dracula, but they were just spooky enough to make the heart race, and to imagine that there was an encased mummy a few feet from where I was sitting. I kept waiting for a scratching or scraping sound from the false lid: the mummy board. It's fun to scare yourself sometimes. </div>
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The language of Ancient Egypt didn't have vowels. It was called Kmt. An aside: for some odd reason, I got it in my head that the Austrian, Gustav Klimt, was a throwback from Egyptian times?! But, it may not be so farfetched, as Klimt used Greek & Egyptian motifs in many of his paintings and friezes.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kzQeDq5XCAD0zwwWy4WVM0wtEy_xDwBHB3Ckh4MHnggHaRD8RkC3HtJ_Sw1YzZeWb0faX9HYU3ZKjL6R_aZLuLM2gonVx40etUWD3rEOjNPwqfMJso5X2lGiCr_BLWPZGZBPiqQcJyQH/s1600/gustav-klimt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kzQeDq5XCAD0zwwWy4WVM0wtEy_xDwBHB3Ckh4MHnggHaRD8RkC3HtJ_Sw1YzZeWb0faX9HYU3ZKjL6R_aZLuLM2gonVx40etUWD3rEOjNPwqfMJso5X2lGiCr_BLWPZGZBPiqQcJyQH/s320/gustav-klimt.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pallas Athene - Vienna, 1898</td></tr>
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His image of Pallas Athena, derived from the classical forms, is one of his most compelling, with the emphasis on her divinity - a Goddess with masculine powers - as opposed to the sexuality of his Nuda Veritas. The desire for power strongly connected to sexual desire. </div>
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The inscription on top of Nuda: <i> If you can't please many with your deeds and your art, please only few. To please many is bad. </i> Schiller</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ2RZRreTFyPG6TKE5tSiqU4VQwpAHULchqD1vMocvvx7GYEBp7ghKwINCqx7XGoZa8IHL1vpIrrOEnWknFMocDhumCdx2U3lbWfjAReYdu1ZjYvrbU1GijobYUi0NZMBNqBN-L5210nBG/s400/klimt-nuda-veritas-1899.thumb.150x0x0x0x100x0x0x0.jpg" width="100" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Klimt - Nuda Veritas, 1899</td></tr>
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The Greeks called the people from Kmt, Aegyptos, their culture, "Kemetic". They didn't believe in death, but rather that we were always coming back and forth from the unknown to the actual. And the translation of the ancient, funerary Egyptian Papyrus, commonly known as, "The Book of the Dead" is more accurately translated: "Book of Coming Forth by Day". Hey, <i>you don't know whether you're coming or going. </i>That's a line from Lil' Wayne song, featuring Bruno Mars. </div>
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I do digress. Back to my "Diary of Beauty."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiObJXkib8xBK0ZFo77l97o-ZgCYXcOHEd-SjHqmHvzs9nn9KAybQtKzBwZcyOkyNMtJPLUNGnZ18CGOaEy20RiOLlrRUGCOBht70cbMaz8zr30zt3MSC5BKmzow3aoag2B7G8ZpSUM8V/s1600/ChateauHydrangea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiObJXkib8xBK0ZFo77l97o-ZgCYXcOHEd-SjHqmHvzs9nn9KAybQtKzBwZcyOkyNMtJPLUNGnZ18CGOaEy20RiOLlrRUGCOBht70cbMaz8zr30zt3MSC5BKmzow3aoag2B7G8ZpSUM8V/s640/ChateauHydrangea.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chateau de Charras - May, 2015</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4HEKUta9Q47vg45jSRt3xmYuYOr6AJvoj6DljUSjeZW2VS2KOU3maRuAmXpDYwBbX14rX7WN1DFNmH2dkwDVe9hUDZepExBVx-JTPSQip19X83CiLGgAthcbXCddf6iSeuAvFA4HNR5qr/s1600/Bee%2526blossom2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4HEKUta9Q47vg45jSRt3xmYuYOr6AJvoj6DljUSjeZW2VS2KOU3maRuAmXpDYwBbX14rX7WN1DFNmH2dkwDVe9hUDZepExBVx-JTPSQip19X83CiLGgAthcbXCddf6iSeuAvFA4HNR5qr/s320/Bee%2526blossom2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3SiTYUvaGJe0nG1-ISWFW3v8hYZvkvXhG_Zp26DRVREa1-P1zA5AxyLDHY-34BEeUY8DxRt1WwdVePCZ-B0dDFzHbkt9ZQ5rOIolCCNKfHKZOjEaFLwU8ktuD9PP9dtsNG_YTytAlflg/s1600/HydrangeaChateau.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3SiTYUvaGJe0nG1-ISWFW3v8hYZvkvXhG_Zp26DRVREa1-P1zA5AxyLDHY-34BEeUY8DxRt1WwdVePCZ-B0dDFzHbkt9ZQ5rOIolCCNKfHKZOjEaFLwU8ktuD9PP9dtsNG_YTytAlflg/s200/HydrangeaChateau.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<i>"...Yes, the Spring-time needed you for sure. Many stars waited for you, so that you'd notice them. A wave from the past swelled up for you, or, as you passed by an open window, a violin presented itself to you.</i>" First Elegy</div>
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PIED BEAUTY</div>
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Gerard Manley Hopkins</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Village of Charras, Wood Sculpture</td></tr>
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Glory be to God for dappled things â </div>
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For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; </div>
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For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; </div>
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Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finchesâ wings; </div>
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Landscape plotted and pieced â fold, fallow, and plough; </div>
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And ĂĄll trĂĄdes, their gear and tackle and trim. </div>
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All things counter, original, spare, strange; </div>
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Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) </div>
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With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; </div>
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He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: </div>
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Praise him.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hay Bales - Grassac</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guiness at Le Pontilou</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Siesta - Vincent Van Gogh</td></tr>
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"...And distant places give us refuge in territories where our own histories aren't so deeply entrenched, and we can imagine other stories, other selves, just drink up quiet and respite...the bigness of the world is redemption..." Rebecca Solnit from, <i>The Faraway, Nearby </i></div>
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Beauty gives me a sense of belonging, not to any particular group or religion, or even to family and friends, but to life itself. The poet, Robert Haas, said "to learn not to be a stranger is the burden of the Duino Elegies." What makes me feel like I belong here is seeing laundry drying in the sun; or sharing a moment of mutual joy with the cashier from Grand Frais over an extravagant head of Italian lettuce and a tomato. </div>
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In <i>Beauty and the Soul</i>, Piero Ferruci describes "<i>Bella da morire - Beautiful to die for.</i> <i>A feeling we have when we come face-to-face with beauty, we feel ready to die, as though we have now seen and felt all that is worth seeing and feeling. We perceive beauty because we are free from worry and regret, or discontent. We feel so complete and fulfilled, happy almost beyond capacity, we could die at that moment. It springs from an intense love of life and a state of total surrender, which, by one of the strange paradoxes of beauty, allow us, as we say in Italy, to exclaim: 'Bella da morire'."</i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Quinta at La Grande Metairie</td></tr>
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I had a true bella da morire experience long ago, hiking in the Ventana Wilderness with my girlfriend. We became lost for over three days, bushwacking thru brambles and bushes, running out of water in 100 degree temps. At twilight on the fourth night (with all hope of rescue gone) a couple of moist swallows left, (shades of "The Treasure of the Sierra Madre"), I felt a sense of peace and quiet ecstasy settle on me as the warm breezes danced around the Madrones. I'm ready to die, I told my friend. I hasten to add, she was not ready to join me! In the end, we found water and I shed another skin. I'm glad I didn't die then, there was so much more I would have missed. </div>
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And now it's time for another adventure in shedding skins - The Chariot is waiting, the Wheel of Fortune is Spinning and the Karmic Key of Destiny is at hand. Once the Chariot starts moving there is no turning back. It's my Hermit year & Pallas Athena is at my side, along with a whole cast of guides and wonderful characters. I'm blessed with many Anam Caras (soul friends) and wise owls.</div>
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I'm vanishing into pencil dust & ink smudged notebooks - "of all the paths you take in life make sure some of
them are dirt." Unknown </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBF8n1PBMpubnW7163DdHDanw1D37lJD8OVKP4idMIJcEAAFpj2yBXFeGoKsYHYb8Gnm9h2spo1p96bWQ4_MNCzUjGMqfyiTEnDfeA8iHzGB2qvocCtWBws_AKsGTtjrHUV0GYrwk82JKa/s1600/french-dk-rudy0-150-Fool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBF8n1PBMpubnW7163DdHDanw1D37lJD8OVKP4idMIJcEAAFpj2yBXFeGoKsYHYb8Gnm9h2spo1p96bWQ4_MNCzUjGMqfyiTEnDfeA8iHzGB2qvocCtWBws_AKsGTtjrHUV0GYrwk82JKa/s320/french-dk-rudy0-150-Fool.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm insane for the light"</td></tr>
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A poem my brother, Mark, wrote for me; I will keep it close at hand. </div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: HelveticaNeue,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,Arial,Lucida Grande,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Three Things</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">The Wind, the Water and the</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Moon.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Cards in the deck of </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Infinity.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">You, crooked smile, subtle</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">hands, wise,
illuminated, and</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">windblown.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Rain visits you, like</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">tears, like a</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">baptism.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">But it is always the</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Moon that reminds me of</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">you.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Silver when it wishes and</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">amber and</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">yellow and even</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">blue.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">You turn the night into</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">kindness.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">You bring the</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">tides home and send them</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">out again to visit the</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">oceans. You consummate the</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">air.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: HelveticaNeue,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,Arial,Lucida Grande,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Moon. Water.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Wind.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: HelveticaNeue,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,Arial,Lucida Grande,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Light. Truth.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: HelveticaNeue,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,Arial,Lucida Grande,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Love.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: HelveticaNeue,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,Arial,Lucida Grande,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: HelveticaNeue,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,Arial,Lucida Grande,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">These are the cards that I see in your</span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: HelveticaNeue,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,Arial,Lucida Grande,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">eyes. In your</span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: HelveticaNeue,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,Arial,Lucida Grande,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">touch. In your</span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: HelveticaNeue,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,Arial,Lucida Grande,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">smile.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: HelveticaNeue,Helvetica Neue,Helvetica,Arial,Lucida Grande,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5MnRlgGhBAu_Tb9IcQj7VKqDl9WDdql2H4iffufnUR2fN5cZkR2Lhha-cVgVvxm3SoD_2f9YozmWBGV8qq9T43etdX9VuTE4K8OlX0hPkwxM-7Dyp76MU090YQwnUWf9qS3BAEOcX6l2/s1600/Head+lagrandesave2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw5MnRlgGhBAu_Tb9IcQj7VKqDl9WDdql2H4iffufnUR2fN5cZkR2Lhha-cVgVvxm3SoD_2f9YozmWBGV8qq9T43etdX9VuTE4K8OlX0hPkwxM-7Dyp76MU090YQwnUWf9qS3BAEOcX6l2/s320/Head+lagrandesave2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stone head in wall at La Grande Metairie</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><i>Poetry makes nothing happen. It survives in the valley of its saying.</i></span></div>
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W.H. Auden</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM3ww9kYakOsbP-faK6WAJqXW15Xu5h8Yow48yHZJ6HwB_bVdhaRdtIY4dybNnx4rguS4K0fubhphEXwIgcMkhU25Dp8JEAJ6cV2l4YhSW24c_KOEP9KbqCjCjCbdIFxVclMVE2S0MKnbC/s1600/Jaume+Plensa+Yorkshire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM3ww9kYakOsbP-faK6WAJqXW15Xu5h8Yow48yHZJ6HwB_bVdhaRdtIY4dybNnx4rguS4K0fubhphEXwIgcMkhU25Dp8JEAJ6cV2l4YhSW24c_KOEP9KbqCjCjCbdIFxVclMVE2S0MKnbC/s320/Jaume+Plensa+Yorkshire.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tree Love - Jaume Plensa - Yorkshire Sculpture Park</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<i>Beauty is the true Priestess of individuation</i> - John O' Donohue, Irish Poet </div>
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To be continued in: "The Holy Longing in Cumbria - Part II - Divine Thoughts & Augurs, Omens, Murmurations" coming soon. I'm taking a "poetry dream-ladder to God." </div>
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"Something moves without moving" - Lazaris </div>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-14495163783853631282015-05-31T16:32:00.000-07:002015-06-02T02:14:26.338-07:00ARRETEZ, REGARDEZ, ECOUTEZ - Moths Drinking the Tears of Sleeping BirdsThere's grace in the mundane - <br />
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Twenty scarecrows in the fields of Rougnac, a few kilometers down the road. Only the French would take the time to dress up a load of sticks and hay.<br />
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SNAIL</div>
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I stuck to the road,</div>
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fell under the tire's spell!</div>
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Fuji climb cancelled.</div>
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Homage to Kobayaski Issa, master Haiku poet</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Selfie with Sheep - Le Pontilou</td></tr>
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I'm a myopic introvert wandering around the campagne. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somebody could use a new coat</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New born - Le Pontilou</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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The spring lambs were consorting and cavorting in the lush greenness. Tiny ones in the fields, mewling and glassy eyed,
startled at their own birth. There was a cacophony of country sounds converging...hum of bees, the insistent Cuckoo, church bells, barking
dogs on a hunt, a tractor several fields over, roosters crowing, bird
songs I couldn't identify and beneath it all, murmur of wind. It was the first time in my life i heard "sound" itself, layered like a parfait, nothing taking dominance. A small orchestra, all
playing the same Chorale tuned to the key of spring.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8X2rf0XqUOESLK4oFlklhy2Roxrn8pyIONa8bEmIFxw7-LJo58k4NCAjWXKs3mFiGcx-zJqMtT5POaKD-m6NGkpkHHxlKtwcx40iRg9GR9ymMVcZxJHYzcT0VIsiKJlQhFeI3Uddra0Zg/s1600/Newborn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8X2rf0XqUOESLK4oFlklhy2Roxrn8pyIONa8bEmIFxw7-LJo58k4NCAjWXKs3mFiGcx-zJqMtT5POaKD-m6NGkpkHHxlKtwcx40iRg9GR9ymMVcZxJHYzcT0VIsiKJlQhFeI3Uddra0Zg/s200/Newborn.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome to the World</td></tr>
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The scent of wild coriander was all along the roads, but I could never track the plants down. I came across a herd of cows in Le Grande Brassac.<br />
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As I rode my bike along the fence, a large group of calves chased me for a a few meters. I stopped my bike and faced them. Staring, clumped together, they came closer and closer, but not too close to the <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">clĂŽture Ă©lectrique. We knew, two-legged and four-leggeds, what could happen! Communion with calves, a singular moment. Then they went back to their "nursery". Fat hawk on spool of hay kept watch. </span></span></div>
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Maybe because Dad showed up</div>
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The lad below was by himself in a field near the cows - low maintenance livestock.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3NIypyRPgx-ffkhGVl1ONcU1muVfrCNzoIXLgGeuU_GgnfCjeF_xiVvYP51PB3ho6v_o6c3JSGmHrRxA4nFrc1BKGKxXI76oybfrS40o8MqtsQHGLoXlv24_sqwQgI9Y91b7YCY_Qb-F/s1600/in+a+field+near+Brassac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3NIypyRPgx-ffkhGVl1ONcU1muVfrCNzoIXLgGeuU_GgnfCjeF_xiVvYP51PB3ho6v_o6c3JSGmHrRxA4nFrc1BKGKxXI76oybfrS40o8MqtsQHGLoXlv24_sqwQgI9Y91b7YCY_Qb-F/s320/in+a+field+near+Brassac.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">The Eighth Elegy (a portion of)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>With all their eyes the creatures gaze into the Openness.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>But our eyes are as if reversed and completely encirled it</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>like snares, obstructing its free movement.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>What is out there, we know only from the faces of animals;</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>because early on we make the infant turn around and make him</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>look backwards to see what was in the past rather than the </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>Openness, that lies so deep in the faces of animals. Free from</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>death. We, alone, see that; the free animal always has its destruction</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>behind and god in front of it, and when it moves, it moves in eternity,</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>like a flowing spring. We never have, not even for a single day, that</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><i>pure space in front of us, in which the flowers endlessly unfold.</i>..</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Rainer Maria Rilke - from the Duino Elegies</span></div>
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April showers brought May flowers and the Great Peacock/Emperor Moth, saturnia pyri. In french it is called le grand paon de nuit. Supposedly it is extinct in many parts of Europe, so it is a joy to see one and have it look back at you with those eyes. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEism4Cf3PrnIiXI-OinwoYAUC9OnzURKIxovTwE1pUi6CCMiR6LI4NcLGPjlJ0S48vdsBi7wDKtWCg2efd-jv_GoWwwJHwZHXlVX_m85ew1XN1RQULjtAgrpeZtZNXQi0tNZRf3Z2Y17Qwp/s1600/1280px-Saturnia_pyri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEism4Cf3PrnIiXI-OinwoYAUC9OnzURKIxovTwE1pUi6CCMiR6LI4NcLGPjlJ0S48vdsBi7wDKtWCg2efd-jv_GoWwwJHwZHXlVX_m85ew1XN1RQULjtAgrpeZtZNXQi0tNZRf3Z2Y17Qwp/s400/1280px-Saturnia_pyri.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Grand Paon de Nuit</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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The moth brought back memories of the year we lived in a Gare (old railway station) in Savigny-sous-Faye, the Vienne. It was quite rustic, and we were helping with the renovations. I had a room/office on the second floor with elegant floor to ceiling windows, but no curtains or screens. In the day time, the hornets, bees, flies & acrobatic spiders would join me. If I was lucky a praying mantis might show up. On hot summer nights I would leave the windows open, and all manner of night creatures would fly in, but mostly bats and moths. It was a little like being in a Guillermo del Toro film - Pan's Labyrinth.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbrTCDLK-R-HCCHPEs5VX4yfaAtsXQuvBMuF6n0XsAXLTbi6YixTwAMipMe1YAe5SpSfwtCqi7rJN2NJtRsALAL5LRGMzfAh_IH6hz8wsWgqutXgQOFKwDM4TGF-MsMxjowPe4MjQPU347/s1600/Pan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbrTCDLK-R-HCCHPEs5VX4yfaAtsXQuvBMuF6n0XsAXLTbi6YixTwAMipMe1YAe5SpSfwtCqi7rJN2NJtRsALAL5LRGMzfAh_IH6hz8wsWgqutXgQOFKwDM4TGF-MsMxjowPe4MjQPU347/s200/Pan.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-ZOsbomVEhjmLL1_PoUI2ctLtBr1imQxMwomO0HhA21lS9c1Ks1lfeTKnCMvW8_873bCAEiz-BGoisi5H81wb-AjFGVf1nv9c9CgDY3LRe6whxfagmqqpdO18c6CkCMbO1Oh3ceoKohr/s1600/600full-pan%2527s-labyrinth-screenshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-ZOsbomVEhjmLL1_PoUI2ctLtBr1imQxMwomO0HhA21lS9c1Ks1lfeTKnCMvW8_873bCAEiz-BGoisi5H81wb-AjFGVf1nv9c9CgDY3LRe6whxfagmqqpdO18c6CkCMbO1Oh3ceoKohr/s320/600full-pan%2527s-labyrinth-screenshot.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pan's Labyrinth Screen Shot</td></tr>
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I didn't mind the moths so much; they have the power of the whirlwind, the ease of movement in the shadows and the big ticket items of transformation/metamorphosis, plus the Voyante's stock and trade: hearing spoken and unspoken
messages. On the other hand, there is an old German myth that if a bat flies into your house, the devil is after you. I felt like Tippi Hedren in the "Birds". One night after falling asleep near my laptop, hundreds of moths flew in. When I awoke, there were strange little jewels all over my laptop. They looked like tiny pearls. Eventually I realized they were moth eggs. I took some photos, but they are long gone, along with that laptop. </div>
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Here is a better photo from Charles Krebs:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFcQOHjz5LZcfTi20cy2NaISVrXrGzZbaUO6o6LYAx_yq3IKwq0TAiD2k7sE4HQELu4N9GAwlvM7tbodaprPbmTHJ1KhRz1ZTB9CV46pFmdYbijCp14VkISsZBJxo9XjaXD8Ab7BFg9Iw4/s1600/moth+eggs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFcQOHjz5LZcfTi20cy2NaISVrXrGzZbaUO6o6LYAx_yq3IKwq0TAiD2k7sE4HQELu4N9GAwlvM7tbodaprPbmTHJ1KhRz1ZTB9CV46pFmdYbijCp14VkISsZBJxo9XjaXD8Ab7BFg9Iw4/s400/moth+eggs.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moth Eggs</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I read a piece in Rebecca Solnit's, <i>The Faraway Nearby</i> a while back, about moths drinking the tears of sleeping birds. Some moths feed at the eyes of deer and elephants, water buffalo. "There are crocodile tears and moths that feed upon them. In the forests of Southeast Asia several species feed at the eyes of human beings." This was documented by entomologist Hans Banziger, and reported in <i>Remarkable New Cases of Moths Drinking Human Tears in Thailand</i>.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZgmXpNzI1LB1_sVE6tgqWJ6v_TlYlhmqYGPbLc4FDMKdbV3nfi4JYj8dls1zTeOw97OGk0KhJkn1TCMifqXAW_OjTJSrZbJchDNBK1FI2n23DZ3O3W-xhKWrUKMKCsgo4kgczsbMyrfk/s1600/butterflies-caiman-tears-s2048x1386-p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZgmXpNzI1LB1_sVE6tgqWJ6v_TlYlhmqYGPbLc4FDMKdbV3nfi4JYj8dls1zTeOw97OGk0KhJkn1TCMifqXAW_OjTJSrZbJchDNBK1FI2n23DZ3O3W-xhKWrUKMKCsgo4kgczsbMyrfk/s400/butterflies-caiman-tears-s2048x1386-p.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Butterflies/bees drinking crocodile tears from Caiman - Photo Carlos de la Rosa</td></tr>
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"He photographed one drinking from his own right eye with its furry wings outspread, looking like a tremendous tear or a misplaced brooch or a flower petal, an ornament invading his face...the word for teardrinkers is lachryphagous." Solnit tied this together elegantly, connecting feeding on sorrow, heartbreak, empathy, pop songs, delicate grief, sadness, the blue like dusk, with the reminder that all things are ephemeral. But all I could think of (with a shiver) was what else those moths were doing all night long besides laying eggs. I do remember my eyes felt rather dry. <br />
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Back to the mundane. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP7jsXyp9G0voKtiqtkjvupVppBu6kVy8zQYJ6ucRnBAHKDYNuCbHuuwZ8F9mWbM47vV0OEACz5i1Maouk3AtDnnsok3e8vxm6OvNCZjQc00Khk9Fxx9QTXxKGaBQlkUiY0ZcrJ46Vz4C0/s1600/Rhubarb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP7jsXyp9G0voKtiqtkjvupVppBu6kVy8zQYJ6ucRnBAHKDYNuCbHuuwZ8F9mWbM47vV0OEACz5i1Maouk3AtDnnsok3e8vxm6OvNCZjQc00Khk9Fxx9QTXxKGaBQlkUiY0ZcrJ46Vz4C0/s320/Rhubarb.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rhubarb from Jacs garden</td></tr>
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<span class="uficommentbody">At my own kitchen window this morning, a friend's
gift of early rhubarb simmering away, I thought of how rhubarb was
traditionally harvested by candlelight in the forcing sheds in the UK, to get
the sweetest, tenderest stalks; I then thought of all the writing that gets
done in the "dark" by candlelight, or the silvery light of the moon. Though more likely by the blue light of the computer screen. We're rendering one way or another. "Rendering" - a word with many meanings. In French, it usually means covering up a beautiful old stone wall with plaster, or processing/melting down the carcass of an animal. </span><br />
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<span class="uficommentbody">Blossoms arrived on schedule this spring...</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOn3rgGHc_0gZm9hFYPjfVs9ZZDAkdOFmdkeETkhked70ho5r6VDF_5IWHKtuGM4vNScz8uOkdVgQYErQPPO8KYG9SXhcCN4Me02JF8QmH-Ak35es5v9mKDjwOL4gfGKHkaZbXoC7_sIJq/s1600/blossoms+falling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOn3rgGHc_0gZm9hFYPjfVs9ZZDAkdOFmdkeETkhked70ho5r6VDF_5IWHKtuGM4vNScz8uOkdVgQYErQPPO8KYG9SXhcCN4Me02JF8QmH-Ak35es5v9mKDjwOL4gfGKHkaZbXoC7_sIJq/s320/blossoms+falling.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our secret garden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We threw some parties in the Cherry Orchard; it was like a Chekhov play without the Russians.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtpmZujUyNHm85STxn0yH4OGevNBz0RH06CQU8TQtxwyS4dT6z9gmUCpts2oiST1-CXwltLWGXsppVlKVU3b1d9Mdp4CkxJtDpPUTur24gzJlvSb85-cV64KaWriHUkDH18JCuzvyYQy4/s1600/Orchardparty2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtpmZujUyNHm85STxn0yH4OGevNBz0RH06CQU8TQtxwyS4dT6z9gmUCpts2oiST1-CXwltLWGXsppVlKVU3b1d9Mdp4CkxJtDpPUTur24gzJlvSb85-cV64KaWriHUkDH18JCuzvyYQy4/s320/Orchardparty2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Usual Suspects</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8nz62pN6joN_4SqPicHDTehuvwS1N9ARWte8SxxBtWmG-2X09rwH6YJMBw71KyXFlUwi90ZrDkiLLPmguL1GVMYKrL_st0whraWvwZ2tDxfXasV-vC_-1k-aHDqCehhqcspcfpqhys1_/s1600/Sara%2526Jodie2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8nz62pN6joN_4SqPicHDTehuvwS1N9ARWte8SxxBtWmG-2X09rwH6YJMBw71KyXFlUwi90ZrDkiLLPmguL1GVMYKrL_st0whraWvwZ2tDxfXasV-vC_-1k-aHDqCehhqcspcfpqhys1_/s200/Sara%2526Jodie2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady Sara & Jodie</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #c27ba0;"> </span><i><span style="color: #c27ba0;">All Russia is our orchard. The earth is so wide, so beautiful, so full of wonderful places. Just think, Anya. Your grandfather, your great-grandfather and all your
ancestors owned serfs, they owned human souls. Don't you see that from
every cherry-tree in the orchard, from every leaf and every trunk, men
and women are gazing at you? if we're to start living in the present
isn't it abundantly clear that we've first got to redeem our past and
make a clean break with it? And we can only redeem it by suffering and
getting down to real work for a change.</span> </i>Chekhov<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj39_tlKzuoGfwNETSvZzoJEu6fspIqSYnKTfMa3HjlTmLp5oYUJ3wOD9SmbWq30anPVLgcFhPeTiat7sfTjR9oCM7g6dCRy7BeYNUaTYXViLf3H4TdkeFedpgr3UUDlJtJIRGYK3euUSpT/s1600/partys+over.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj39_tlKzuoGfwNETSvZzoJEu6fspIqSYnKTfMa3HjlTmLp5oYUJ3wOD9SmbWq30anPVLgcFhPeTiat7sfTjR9oCM7g6dCRy7BeYNUaTYXViLf3H4TdkeFedpgr3UUDlJtJIRGYK3euUSpT/s400/partys+over.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Party's Over</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn7JnTvC1CW8b3rB-yMbc8vs_RXM-jFAwpz2RWskgDzIkAc9RvfLuQWN2pTEwiULru1fATHvNVwZPon6zvYva6bSIansr1Wwr967-4AUEte4w26oBdgkSvSNgc1QoBB12Odv_QwW972ide/s1600/Tangledflowers%2526vines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn7JnTvC1CW8b3rB-yMbc8vs_RXM-jFAwpz2RWskgDzIkAc9RvfLuQWN2pTEwiULru1fATHvNVwZPon6zvYva6bSIansr1Wwr967-4AUEte4w26oBdgkSvSNgc1QoBB12Odv_QwW972ide/s320/Tangledflowers%2526vines.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwj7OgxBcREtWWp6Ilbl1d36itb4z8N2DUUYepG4hywHPnP8i0L8ZCsod28-n3aje9fc9iE6E144kryEEjHH9dJJpIOEpK_bFHJ1Fw3NbGjTXtqAoYwew_IUG0IS9y7KTPKLRoXgcxS-rO/s1600/Sundowninorchard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwj7OgxBcREtWWp6Ilbl1d36itb4z8N2DUUYepG4hywHPnP8i0L8ZCsod28-n3aje9fc9iE6E144kryEEjHH9dJJpIOEpK_bFHJ1Fw3NbGjTXtqAoYwew_IUG0IS9y7KTPKLRoXgcxS-rO/s640/Sundowninorchard.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sundown in the Orchard</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<i>Getting down to real work for a change.</i>..I read Tarot at the Spring fayre at Le Marquisat again this year and Jake & John made me my own Tarot Casbah. It was raining, but I was tucked in the back of the garden with all the geese, horses, dogs, self-important chickens, gargoyle presiding over it all. I had a conga line of clients, so it was a wonderful day. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhonZg73bIUxdTHNVQNtOCakUOGnAtEbcbffkuB4MQO6d8egGoK_EDoU6BokYTjxkM9q_-ej5sWVliB_Nl8B3bv8giRY0KcFZgLV2vuCYmmSVewr3-sQDN9pZkbh6-rUPna58-F6eWvMwL-/s1600/Jaketarot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhonZg73bIUxdTHNVQNtOCakUOGnAtEbcbffkuB4MQO6d8egGoK_EDoU6BokYTjxkM9q_-ej5sWVliB_Nl8B3bv8giRY0KcFZgLV2vuCYmmSVewr3-sQDN9pZkbh6-rUPna58-F6eWvMwL-/s200/Jaketarot.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jake holding down the fort</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8SSFp6AsGwpmbrhpCe-UMshKaoT6qwMiWfOB4ml2dpUOnJix_yYtVKZtTi8aumX84NjVtakBM4q_UGaMsSYkRpLH3UjRBe24j5TlA8H48Bou9D0n9nEF2YgJeYUqwaZ_72ZiYxaVPgYrm/s1600/TarotreadingMonicaLemarquisat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8SSFp6AsGwpmbrhpCe-UMshKaoT6qwMiWfOB4ml2dpUOnJix_yYtVKZtTi8aumX84NjVtakBM4q_UGaMsSYkRpLH3UjRBe24j5TlA8H48Bou9D0n9nEF2YgJeYUqwaZ_72ZiYxaVPgYrm/s200/TarotreadingMonicaLemarquisat.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading for Belle Italianne, Monica</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Csx2bYb50TkFY3y9cEyHNRgWpngWf3l2_Sqc2EKjGNPWfHYF5N88ckuR2dav4EymQUZEST7O62dGu18plzDknwSTFT1bKdyCHtRR5Xo8j95M6bzjxBkrTC-aCWA9L7FgDs1Lx5jcL1dg/s1600/Selfimportantchicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Csx2bYb50TkFY3y9cEyHNRgWpngWf3l2_Sqc2EKjGNPWfHYF5N88ckuR2dav4EymQUZEST7O62dGu18plzDknwSTFT1bKdyCHtRR5Xo8j95M6bzjxBkrTC-aCWA9L7FgDs1Lx5jcL1dg/s320/Selfimportantchicken.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Self-important chicken</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In May I was invited to read at Le Perroquet Vert spring fayre in Chalais. It was another rainy day and not a great turnout, but as my English grandfather, George Bray, was fond of saying: "Some days chickens, some days feathers."<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKOzWQVtNh9qCQ47pB9Yf7RTHI5GCDPXZvCXYBrcmc7fmGiGKQFej0m4mzN6r1lkrCU6y624ICKMI1sYGoxq-PpC7w21RrR7aLFxbPZKko_xSDV9RIKinkJzZD8B0Hf8OIaNyKAdnDCS4/s1600/Gargoylelemarquisat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKOzWQVtNh9qCQ47pB9Yf7RTHI5GCDPXZvCXYBrcmc7fmGiGKQFej0m4mzN6r1lkrCU6y624ICKMI1sYGoxq-PpC7w21RrR7aLFxbPZKko_xSDV9RIKinkJzZD8B0Hf8OIaNyKAdnDCS4/s400/Gargoylelemarquisat.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My companion at Le Marquisat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS2Qo_vVgh5jYqtLS8iK9aVRSjIe0NzB9utWSB76i3D792A9Gn2TQXfehB1sv9ORo8SCcZhEd26yU0P83JNg7AIv-M0P9GrW5okAUPeKFLTpKbLkjRUH6Bk0yQLgqeG37j4lGQWnYZ6GhI/s1600/Pomegranate+on+stone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS2Qo_vVgh5jYqtLS8iK9aVRSjIe0NzB9utWSB76i3D792A9Gn2TQXfehB1sv9ORo8SCcZhEd26yU0P83JNg7AIv-M0P9GrW5okAUPeKFLTpKbLkjRUH6Bk0yQLgqeG37j4lGQWnYZ6GhI/s320/Pomegranate+on+stone.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pomegranate on Stone - Persephone's Gift</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #e06666;">Gaston Bachelard on Doors, from "The Poetics of Space":</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">
"On May nights when so many doors are closed, there is one that is just
barely ajar. We have only to give it a very slight push! The hinges
have been well oiled. And our Fate becomes visible."</span></div>
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*Watch for the Strawberry Moon (called the Rose Moon in Europe) June 2nd, aka flower moon, honey moon, planting moon, hot moon. The June full moons so named by the North American native Algonquin tribes, signaling that the strawberries were ready to be picked (strawberries not native to Europe, hence the Rose Moon). We'll be picking cherries!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTPgo2GJx1jTAID_brIW9fXVoRKpNhRd6gChVXT1hvhOPcvueJ9kIRrA9ZeM39GdSXoaQ0vYAlCno8jsG5tAJHZf5L0IUXOi0vQtvZ09DTbLHLKr2Kc3iBAFz8O6yVjbTTzaooUc_j3Q-p/s1600/20140613_moon-rises-over-rome_53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTPgo2GJx1jTAID_brIW9fXVoRKpNhRd6gChVXT1hvhOPcvueJ9kIRrA9ZeM39GdSXoaQ0vYAlCno8jsG5tAJHZf5L0IUXOi0vQtvZ09DTbLHLKr2Kc3iBAFz8O6yVjbTTzaooUc_j3Q-p/s400/20140613_moon-rises-over-rome_53.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose Moon over Rome 2013 - Fillipo Monteforte, Getty Images</td></tr>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-80984249273469779952015-04-05T14:19:00.000-07:002015-04-06T02:57:36.590-07:00TRANSCENDENCE - Printemps<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><b></b></span></span></div>
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<i><span class="ecxApple-style-span">Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.</span></i><br />
<span class="ecxApple-style-span"><i>It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.</i></span><br />
<span class="ecxApple-style-span"> - Mary Oliver</span><br />
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<span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="color: #080000;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/23988.Mary_Oliver" target="_blank"></a></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVAp2CquG3tVqHAyhyphenhyphenOq1STnISoYcvGQTSk11xf2PsI2QH5ERL2iJB9FTM7fD7Xh1h_L0yu0HjyqNPQ9NqwtefTL4J_tbllton4_PO3Mw7r_u5-BZLkmlexesSDHftAIDYMnzQXnhC2I4/s1600/Warsaw+angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVAp2CquG3tVqHAyhyphenhyphenOq1STnISoYcvGQTSk11xf2PsI2QH5ERL2iJB9FTM7fD7Xh1h_L0yu0HjyqNPQ9NqwtefTL4J_tbllton4_PO3Mw7r_u5-BZLkmlexesSDHftAIDYMnzQXnhC2I4/s1600/Warsaw+angel.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warsaw Angel - Photography by Marzena Ablewska-lech</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;">Wait, for now.<br />Distrust everything, if you have to.<br />But trust the hours. Haven't they<br />carried you everywhere, up to now? <br />Personal events will become interesting again.<br />Hair will become interesting.<br />Pain will become interesting.<br />Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.<br />Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,<br />their memories are what give them<br />the need for other hands. And the desolation<br />of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness<br />carved out of such tiny beings as we are<br />asks to be filled; the need<br />for the new love is faithfulness to the old.<br /> <br />Wait.<br />Don't go too early.<br />You're tired. But everyone's tired.<br />But no one is tired enough.<br />Only wait a while and listen.<br />Music of hair,<br />Music of pain,<br />music of looms weaving all our loves again.<br />Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,<br />most of all to hear,<br />the flute of your whole existence,<br />rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.
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<span style="color: #f4cccc;">Galway Kinnell</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggv9GI53rpzRhLcptclTkUPMOhyXc5C1lE9qLlRjj5bT-L5F1eQ_-6XWbfoKaxZR8Zwoyrhj_NqViBTPPmDY5g0Az3vQ71zRNe3t5aBXeTdmQ9do7yGh_w_zpS9YJwVIrU9Xtc0C0Rg_en/s1600/Lartigue+women+alone+at+table.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggv9GI53rpzRhLcptclTkUPMOhyXc5C1lE9qLlRjj5bT-L5F1eQ_-6XWbfoKaxZR8Zwoyrhj_NqViBTPPmDY5g0Az3vQ71zRNe3t5aBXeTdmQ9do7yGh_w_zpS9YJwVIrU9Xtc0C0Rg_en/s1600/Lartigue+women+alone+at+table.jpg" height="346" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacques Henri-Lartigue, Autochrome</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<i>Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.</i><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Kim Mott's "<i>study on three stages from opening flower of the Maple tree</i>"</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiFxmte_pKNCrd_gXLhwf3Vv_4gmRi6KMyhsPO4pu5SImcKSOIjiIbdKQgYsiLcZTnoaspPmOPL4aXdvTYmNudhySCyhfsAr_EUAR8dlYRO9kfF30O8rAwNCK4fJpRiI4WDZSIxRmYxGzZ/s1600/Study+maple+tree.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiFxmte_pKNCrd_gXLhwf3Vv_4gmRi6KMyhsPO4pu5SImcKSOIjiIbdKQgYsiLcZTnoaspPmOPL4aXdvTYmNudhySCyhfsAr_EUAR8dlYRO9kfF30O8rAwNCK4fJpRiI4WDZSIxRmYxGzZ/s1600/Study+maple+tree.JPG" height="320" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kim Mott - Idaho artist, poet, steward of the land</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimXazll1Z0lE51kFmg00m4bGOf-JDgSt0Z22zlurKDCqIk0svHx5d-ckIfmKR8VdzFvker40Ph8Vw6ZSfwZtpndvDrrCK7IwKe045Td2QnZvgsxvdIBYNeHq2Oi8NnW0W0btWAuEYa9r7W/s1600/Tree+-+jodes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimXazll1Z0lE51kFmg00m4bGOf-JDgSt0Z22zlurKDCqIk0svHx5d-ckIfmKR8VdzFvker40Ph8Vw6ZSfwZtpndvDrrCK7IwKe045Td2QnZvgsxvdIBYNeHq2Oi8NnW0W0btWAuEYa9r7W/s1600/Tree+-+jodes.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Italy Tarot Tour 2012 - The Tree of Life</td></tr>
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"Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth?... When the
morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?" - from the Book of Job</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmUn74TOj63clmVmLeVvH5th2XM-rLH27Wi4kq_PBuI6Xb26k1lpQEwNHI4yjIE9FbjPdRv_7EuVUkhZHFG9xEM8VtwQxXl5Qtnl92lhQz6-xtdMRwOYOr12bLYgqRC0adcs-DpOeey_y/s1600/hornet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmUn74TOj63clmVmLeVvH5th2XM-rLH27Wi4kq_PBuI6Xb26k1lpQEwNHI4yjIE9FbjPdRv_7EuVUkhZHFG9xEM8VtwQxXl5Qtnl92lhQz6-xtdMRwOYOr12bLYgqRC0adcs-DpOeey_y/s1600/hornet.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTOUihEpZzClpeGHKXgJJBDbfpH0fq3uHLEFXaXVc0CMf140Tysm4jFjqrPoASZvk59Bcjy_LxKTNXcaWDggFy6LSmWVCRBewSTpd6XwJUQXqVMFbXbCRl8DkZ65_29X8cTHDHQO-WhdW/s1600/hornet2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTOUihEpZzClpeGHKXgJJBDbfpH0fq3uHLEFXaXVc0CMf140Tysm4jFjqrPoASZvk59Bcjy_LxKTNXcaWDggFy6LSmWVCRBewSTpd6XwJUQXqVMFbXbCRl8DkZ65_29X8cTHDHQO-WhdW/s1600/hornet2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the orchard - Chateau de Charras</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<i>Secondhand gloves will become lovely again</i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9LrL9h9mfkZKBIIJssDP319gPiygRbuXUdTbOHr22T4mRtEyz0J4w9vIgS3jtGbC7nzLlNhQ4AukzInEQ3btCEWyafzhVnEXLii5g2EnzI74jA1VCr0LKKXjjrQrfJhfXVZvJ8IDHw3D/s1600/Meg+Colby+1952+vintage+glove+fashion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9LrL9h9mfkZKBIIJssDP319gPiygRbuXUdTbOHr22T4mRtEyz0J4w9vIgS3jtGbC7nzLlNhQ4AukzInEQ3btCEWyafzhVnEXLii5g2EnzI74jA1VCr0LKKXjjrQrfJhfXVZvJ8IDHw3D/s1600/Meg+Colby+1952+vintage+glove+fashion.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meg Colby, 1952 Vintage Glove Fashion</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT1QvikDTmRLJBkjYeQOzX8RIIZpIfYX0tr7ULmO5oBfWgA-gYGZaiSuLQdTf15l-72Bf7ydSIr0wIWhgh_kVeQUPq0Fq8NaD_bY2RE6FltPpvqZGhEYL2-b-Bl9gVRJGdD7ncl1-l6dW5/s1600/glove+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT1QvikDTmRLJBkjYeQOzX8RIIZpIfYX0tr7ULmO5oBfWgA-gYGZaiSuLQdTf15l-72Bf7ydSIr0wIWhgh_kVeQUPq0Fq8NaD_bY2RE6FltPpvqZGhEYL2-b-Bl9gVRJGdD7ncl1-l6dW5/s1600/glove+hat.jpg" height="200" width="151" /></a></div>
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<i> their memories are what give them the need for other hands</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibcNhKu39OVwc23pRDQ_YZM3m7xK89TpOuDfzYghd-bl27-99puYPxYUsJVHsyvOA4nUWQuFX6VzuvoMRDECDRmWDxSZQjbP0ToCWx-SrWUItP3xdvaSruDdq5FYPrHKH_dWJyWMpBrNj_/s1600/Lartigue+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibcNhKu39OVwc23pRDQ_YZM3m7xK89TpOuDfzYghd-bl27-99puYPxYUsJVHsyvOA4nUWQuFX6VzuvoMRDECDRmWDxSZQjbP0ToCWx-SrWUItP3xdvaSruDdq5FYPrHKH_dWJyWMpBrNj_/s1600/Lartigue+hands.jpg" height="320" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacques-Henri Lartigue</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i>And the desolation of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness carved out of such tiny beings...</i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzALUE6ARi8cbj7nSp5MgS0mCz0SMrb5lwUbmiGe4ylb_M6t-HBybvnYalzDaOMhYHLsGiJrivfG9nMFuyK-G-bbEv60shrvzLlNCLCUH0z_OXcOiLjp5HK6-HIS3FDNLjC5lj3i0z-n2/s1600/Sculptures+5th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkzALUE6ARi8cbj7nSp5MgS0mCz0SMrb5lwUbmiGe4ylb_M6t-HBybvnYalzDaOMhYHLsGiJrivfG9nMFuyK-G-bbEv60shrvzLlNCLCUH0z_OXcOiLjp5HK6-HIS3FDNLjC5lj3i0z-n2/s1600/Sculptures+5th.jpg" height="200" width="111" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maire, 5th arr. - Paris</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnn9op9uYzGtXO1bhnYB7c8G3QDZXWG8o96JYZa2iFD_K8XTtHkhv2BbaJXsPYbPZW8qgwmzv_hfJTWvmzQyguLBPjsybfBh9AQoN9ERp-DmVGBOmLuJieut29af1sY3KyY_AsLhUBcV23/s1600/Love+Garden+Cluny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnn9op9uYzGtXO1bhnYB7c8G3QDZXWG8o96JYZa2iFD_K8XTtHkhv2BbaJXsPYbPZW8qgwmzv_hfJTWvmzQyguLBPjsybfBh9AQoN9ERp-DmVGBOmLuJieut29af1sY3KyY_AsLhUBcV23/s1600/Love+Garden+Cluny.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Love Garden - Cluny, Paris </td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>...the need for the new love is faithfulness to the old.</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1awYqm3Qquad4AK-DCN_NcKjOod-HUhiv9W5FL6DwC3Opoxy39aHRfFyZi2KfZyHoC0BRK-tY3t4c5YzN15XY_6jD1BQmiaZ5gYz-JumchDqxBVlXrIS-dj5flO0DeUGjhRW39pYGUiM/s1600/mOntparnasse+lovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1awYqm3Qquad4AK-DCN_NcKjOod-HUhiv9W5FL6DwC3Opoxy39aHRfFyZi2KfZyHoC0BRK-tY3t4c5YzN15XY_6jD1BQmiaZ5gYz-JumchDqxBVlXrIS-dj5flO0DeUGjhRW39pYGUiM/s1600/mOntparnasse+lovers.jpg" height="320" width="219" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Montparnasse Cemetery - Paris</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Wait. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Don't go too early.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gWirmXem0_6lX8h-hPbKVv7zqKcy7XSb94wBjUQBPACEgpFhIGYHigKCvQkSjaWw6VcUwCNvMYDfKMcBxPXUXdi1iCEIWcDMUg_tplXhSfxFeF0rJy6VPbAU-MUQLzq6-vXfURjgkmmc/s1600/lartigue_13+sexy+by+window.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gWirmXem0_6lX8h-hPbKVv7zqKcy7XSb94wBjUQBPACEgpFhIGYHigKCvQkSjaWw6VcUwCNvMYDfKMcBxPXUXdi1iCEIWcDMUg_tplXhSfxFeF0rJy6VPbAU-MUQLzq6-vXfURjgkmmc/s1600/lartigue_13+sexy+by+window.jpg" height="400" width="390" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacques-Henri Lartigue</td></tr>
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You're tired, but everyone's tired. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKURMFOT7h3PC36oamYrSIDJZSjb_XrZuY-8rpRJdxXjmvbcOIrxB3BzauzAgpP2v-_vZNiMzXf3UiXiO5sLemAC-0PikJPQtEG0YxtfPfvTD-CSwy2FCJZ2WKjAdmftZ8UQUHdBJHqzzZ/s1600/Alice+Vegrova.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKURMFOT7h3PC36oamYrSIDJZSjb_XrZuY-8rpRJdxXjmvbcOIrxB3BzauzAgpP2v-_vZNiMzXf3UiXiO5sLemAC-0PikJPQtEG0YxtfPfvTD-CSwy2FCJZ2WKjAdmftZ8UQUHdBJHqzzZ/s1600/Alice+Vegrova.jpg" height="220" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alice Vegrova</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Only wait a while and listen.<br />
Music of hair. Music of pain. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_ug03XNqBjA53lMgsZpj65ZArKMLU2g0-7SD5Sixo-855f3kdCgcFOTCIw_slVSKD4lbG99109xTTiJrPLIVC_6Dq3SlqYHaJGOQ6zoJi7J4KmaONvHeb2ET1NtIgABByvqeSFPWTayy/s1600/the_piano_by_meaniebeanie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_ug03XNqBjA53lMgsZpj65ZArKMLU2g0-7SD5Sixo-855f3kdCgcFOTCIw_slVSKD4lbG99109xTTiJrPLIVC_6Dq3SlqYHaJGOQ6zoJi7J4KmaONvHeb2ET1NtIgABByvqeSFPWTayy/s1600/the_piano_by_meaniebeanie.jpg" height="248" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Piano by Meanie Beanie -Franz Liszt, Hungarian Rhapsody #2</td></tr>
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Music of looms weaving all our loves again. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Ys0R9HleUFowN4hIQkgQosG7mBubbGA2f4PUjeS4XUIIo3Vw-o8RJXyJNPTQL7LtqB5NOR4NLx4jdJ4-86Qp3v-DwGseQRFXg4p5o1u5d4zwowHnQTPkT4fiPKDtojmbeacvrTEHinxB/s1600/mallika.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Ys0R9HleUFowN4hIQkgQosG7mBubbGA2f4PUjeS4XUIIo3Vw-o8RJXyJNPTQL7LtqB5NOR4NLx4jdJ4-86Qp3v-DwGseQRFXg4p5o1u5d4zwowHnQTPkT4fiPKDtojmbeacvrTEHinxB/s1600/mallika.jpg" height="320" width="177" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">April 5, 2013 - Mallika & Jacques - Paris, Le Mariage</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLYN-fPq1M4J8VnIBmOZ-s1j4mKjeTSQljAUjWO6vprojm39A39yesXzxO8uRhNvsFo2jhdEkVExG44bSV8wpSk7INAe3VtALLj4-GDJJ88BuTz4UeXegkMnuFXKhcLUEbedwq5fMQCDz/s1600/Swans+Mallika.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLYN-fPq1M4J8VnIBmOZ-s1j4mKjeTSQljAUjWO6vprojm39A39yesXzxO8uRhNvsFo2jhdEkVExG44bSV8wpSk7INAe3VtALLj4-GDJJ88BuTz4UeXegkMnuFXKhcLUEbedwq5fMQCDz/s1600/Swans+Mallika.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mallika Henry - Luxeumbourg Gardens, Paris</td></tr>
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<i>Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,</i><br />
<i>most of all to hear, </i><br />
<i>the flute of your whole existence, </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkG5XiL-j3pzRr_VOtIrh7AMI3X4XDMWCszfg_kpsExineCY3yT0EJKEC2aSPlDHsL-0fuKhVLVHfCQ6sjt0m-VNclHvwpi3yN6qgx44DMmqMA8RVGXqDR24okuvE_6R2mjV5sKPfALKp/s1600/Blow+that+Horn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkG5XiL-j3pzRr_VOtIrh7AMI3X4XDMWCszfg_kpsExineCY3yT0EJKEC2aSPlDHsL-0fuKhVLVHfCQ6sjt0m-VNclHvwpi3yN6qgx44DMmqMA8RVGXqDR24okuvE_6R2mjV5sKPfALKp/s1600/Blow+that+Horn.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luxeumbourg Gardens, Paris </td></tr>
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<i>rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgVW0LDgUJ1xmi4SVtRAEVUC-Ra7bBFILffIs5uOk4QzDZEJAwfTm3FzsIJHs-R8iN-vrIZn9dE1SDvBmtj4L7uaklG6cqBG2LINaap4AFusnTKxcKNOX682yZbZktCF7kcI3duE30bpQR/s1600/Gladys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgVW0LDgUJ1xmi4SVtRAEVUC-Ra7bBFILffIs5uOk4QzDZEJAwfTm3FzsIJHs-R8iN-vrIZn9dE1SDvBmtj4L7uaklG6cqBG2LINaap4AFusnTKxcKNOX682yZbZktCF7kcI3duE30bpQR/s1600/Gladys.jpg" height="307" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gladys Spencer, Dance Hall Music Star, died 1931, age 34 - City of London Cemetery</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-sdSNBK5tPlzyN07c8WbH8MFUvAj_j5xJOTB1kQ1OO2eVhyphenhyphenGwnvroxihhzftf-QYnV7Qg1EfEATM8WgIMUuV0DzYvv3QezB1AzmFd4av4bmwzXy3Wba_VIfhrYPenmYwV83lalCEAUD3/s1600/Skeleton+flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-sdSNBK5tPlzyN07c8WbH8MFUvAj_j5xJOTB1kQ1OO2eVhyphenhyphenGwnvroxihhzftf-QYnV7Qg1EfEATM8WgIMUuV0DzYvv3QezB1AzmFd4av4bmwzXy3Wba_VIfhrYPenmYwV83lalCEAUD3/s1600/Skeleton+flower.jpg" height="320" width="218" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skeleton Flower - Diphylleia grayi</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><b>A poet</b> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">A poet is someone <br />Who can pour Light into a cup<br />and raise it to nourish your<br />beautiful parched
holy mouth</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">--Hafiz</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdNaEx15zsDH1WsWyAOKpX5CpLa7uojaJGIf3PkFjo-doleEGUXlzdnUZiU-glu88cA09yQY12mQac0GK_oxjIcTIgcTwgWpOAGySrQELMMCz0ItAOmpLwcermqwB73GKt3O-mivhjCJT/s1600/480_140.-c-Izis-Bidermanas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdNaEx15zsDH1WsWyAOKpX5CpLa7uojaJGIf3PkFjo-doleEGUXlzdnUZiU-glu88cA09yQY12mQac0GK_oxjIcTIgcTwgWpOAGySrQELMMCz0ItAOmpLwcermqwB73GKt3O-mivhjCJT/s1600/480_140.-c-Izis-Bidermanas.jpg" height="268" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Izis Bidermanas - Paris - "Happiness and Nothing Else"</td></tr>
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Dedicated to Mallika Henry, 1951 - 2013. She loved wolves & married one: Monsieur Jacques Loup, April 5, 2013<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9nVh0wt6tetDByapB1W6-CaXRqVmdQHfw01wrECc8sRbVDY2zdAIGMl-aq2KPUfIZLpf0MPNhrR3xlt3QKc5pELyYo2S4TQF5zBBLClrNOf9kwL2wnu-1PbFpSzZWxfMbAufKVkwb4J3/s1600/fire-trine-702x336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9nVh0wt6tetDByapB1W6-CaXRqVmdQHfw01wrECc8sRbVDY2zdAIGMl-aq2KPUfIZLpf0MPNhrR3xlt3QKc5pELyYo2S4TQF5zBBLClrNOf9kwL2wnu-1PbFpSzZWxfMbAufKVkwb4J3/s1600/fire-trine-702x336.jpg" height="191" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blood Moon, lunar eclipse April 4, 2015</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3xYx4F_Nly6x8AicrJu3tZV03nLf15GUIV_6s2uS2qRi2Fn-dgw7u7F3GAMVZJytlr64fDZqxBNrhty7vIqd26FOPkSf-na4gu6ghUR6gdF6-d4Cqc34zF8_isqj7qecD40l5JbCD3DP4/s1600/blood-moon-with-wolf-300x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3xYx4F_Nly6x8AicrJu3tZV03nLf15GUIV_6s2uS2qRi2Fn-dgw7u7F3GAMVZJytlr64fDZqxBNrhty7vIqd26FOPkSf-na4gu6ghUR6gdF6-d4Cqc34zF8_isqj7qecD40l5JbCD3DP4/s1600/blood-moon-with-wolf-300x300.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Event Chronicle, "Fire Trine, Blood Moon, Gateway to Love"</td></tr>
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<br />Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-65962154773723114502015-03-28T15:17:00.000-07:002017-03-23T09:45:36.668-07:00It rains HEARTS in Soudat & rains in HEARTS in Paris - Adieu Pierre<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span>
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<span style="color: orange;">This entry will pour down like rain and meander like a river...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFHbCYQEG00S2b_f4wQvMnDQoPywV47tOnO08ERk-VX1z1M-lQkDuJ4rmohQHUUlEeKs3Gc-HhrRgXiW7Z_pNa_nuQxVkFzRNQdIwZevvhzGJP-C9uRKs4PPRiuZxQy5mNknw5G7E5Hy9/s1600/hearts+Soudat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFHbCYQEG00S2b_f4wQvMnDQoPywV47tOnO08ERk-VX1z1M-lQkDuJ4rmohQHUUlEeKs3Gc-HhrRgXiW7Z_pNa_nuQxVkFzRNQdIwZevvhzGJP-C9uRKs4PPRiuZxQy5mNknw5G7E5Hy9/s1600/hearts+Soudat.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soudat, France - March 2015</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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A couple of weeks ago I motored to Soudat, a tiny commune in the Dordogne, approx. 30 minutes away, to do some tarot readings. Arrived a bit early with "le temps de ne rien faire" (time to do nothing) so I wandered around the hamlet in the rain taking photographs. The place was festooned with metal hearts on barns, sculptural hearts; painted hearts on the sides of buildings, and more hearts on the walls of the school. Asked a local I bumped into, "what's with all the hearts?" He said that they'd had a festival of "Hearts" a few years ago and these were what remained. Enchanting.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQx45zz0xbZv2Gqr0tLOlBD31rtqbVk3_n7YTeUEyGcLv1DP_BwS4H4D6yg7q0Jg-3wfSD4WfQ44SDSEEo_buhTBaBkO4uhI0kk6GkUrrEZzHdiMUci6gATk6OytqTBKZvv-bS9nhkiQbs/s1600/Cherub+Soudat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQx45zz0xbZv2Gqr0tLOlBD31rtqbVk3_n7YTeUEyGcLv1DP_BwS4H4D6yg7q0Jg-3wfSD4WfQ44SDSEEo_buhTBaBkO4uhI0kk6GkUrrEZzHdiMUci6gATk6OytqTBKZvv-bS9nhkiQbs/s1600/Cherub+Soudat.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cherub, Soudat - March 2015</td></tr>
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In Paris, the rain is harder to bear, not romantic, just grey, extra
wet & unyielding. I snapped a fragment of Paul Verlaine's poem on a
wall somewhere in the 20th arr. "There is weeping in my heart like the rain falling on the city."
Somebody named "Marty", must have been feeling triste when he scribbled
Verlaine's poem on the wall, or maybe he lost his umbrella. I know how
sad that made me when I lost mine and had to walk 20 city blocks to
Enrique's Pantheatre in the pouring rain. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-yLh40uxJ4icAxdsqYHT61SUVRby6qiZp7pOEWAQEDpoqljRGVbphHTqUnTNVhs3arsutQaAD_GXSXlipCcdOMo4L1cFweWg2cTO73NqGPzjS92D_jCmx2UqQAQzV3J0S0semmkj-3s5P/s1600/It+rains+in+my+heart.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-yLh40uxJ4icAxdsqYHT61SUVRby6qiZp7pOEWAQEDpoqljRGVbphHTqUnTNVhs3arsutQaAD_GXSXlipCcdOMo4L1cFweWg2cTO73NqGPzjS92D_jCmx2UqQAQzV3J0S0semmkj-3s5P/s1600/It+rains+in+my+heart.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">from Romances Sans Paroles - 1874</td></tr>
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Verlaine
was a study; a life careening back and forth between naive innocence
and criminality. In his last years, the Prince of Poets, spent most of
his royalties on a pair of middle-aged prostitutes. He also frequented a
gay man, Bibi-la-Purée, (sounds a little like a dog food, doesn't it?)
who was famous for stealing umbrellas (hmmm, maybe that's what happened
to mine!). At the same time Verlaine was being celebrated as one of
France's leading poets, he was snoring in slums, later spending 18 months in
prison after shooting Rimbaud in the wrist. In and out of hospitals,
suffering from cirrhosis, gastritis, rheumatism, diabetes, he continued
to drink, and when Andre Gide visited him in Broussais hospital,
Verlaine told him he was working on a "series of masturbatory poems". No wonder his heart was weeping!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93wfQeiHEo7GFiM9FvVO0ugOoFPpmdZre08BvorR5X207qI-rd17yJxB8T0dvlebSgc9fGhwXlljzPVWcnOedT6Uuhb6VXFi79YHw25smrMBqVV0pj7_cGG_1LLK0w37SWEymJPKBIdY-/s1600/Paris+rain.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93wfQeiHEo7GFiM9FvVO0ugOoFPpmdZre08BvorR5X207qI-rd17yJxB8T0dvlebSgc9fGhwXlljzPVWcnOedT6Uuhb6VXFi79YHw25smrMBqVV0pj7_cGG_1LLK0w37SWEymJPKBIdY-/s1600/Paris+rain.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paris in the rain</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I prefer seeing Paris thru the window, like Chagall did<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYHYhmkMjUpMFM4-w_LDe9CJsLd2B5tBfuM4VpIMkB58XQYxzxluRGHjDC7ohpaX-zyi8ImsV7VuIRsixz__yRy6i914_FdhPuqnNPDkEMQjDiWe7E7J9g07xnoPBhYuPjqlPpXlETp8T/s1600/artofourtime-1024.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYHYhmkMjUpMFM4-w_LDe9CJsLd2B5tBfuM4VpIMkB58XQYxzxluRGHjDC7ohpaX-zyi8ImsV7VuIRsixz__yRy6i914_FdhPuqnNPDkEMQjDiWe7E7J9g07xnoPBhYuPjqlPpXlETp8T/s1600/artofourtime-1024.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paris Through the Window, Marc Chagall - 1913</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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How hungry we are for color when each day is grey. <br />
<br />
March came in like a mewling lion. Three days in a row I pulled <i>Lethe, Four of Water</i>, from Ellen Lorenzi-Prince's Dark Goddess Tarot. Lethe is the Greek Goddess of Forgetfulness and one of the five rivers of Hades, also known as Ameles Patamos, the river of unmindfulness. In classical Greek, the word Lethe literally means, oblivion, forgetfulness, concealment. I'd pulled this same card two years ago, in November, when we were entering the time of darkness, hibernation. At the Equinox, we are moving into the light. I found it perplexing that more people commit suicide in the springtime. There's a theory that the "rebirth" accentuates a feeling of hopelessness in contrast with all the new life bursting forth. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbifcVb4DQ-lU0trNb83bgfhdmpp2GcS31S_0b7mCMOU-PXwJcdO623fNggIFMPCEKTkMltuoS1TzJ8m06g5v9di5CknFUEXIhokHxI2oG78RwZXidWBmu6Laie6sZIwfj6m8-HyVhYF8D/s1600/Lethe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbifcVb4DQ-lU0trNb83bgfhdmpp2GcS31S_0b7mCMOU-PXwJcdO623fNggIFMPCEKTkMltuoS1TzJ8m06g5v9di5CknFUEXIhokHxI2oG78RwZXidWBmu6Laie6sZIwfj6m8-HyVhYF8D/s1600/Lethe.jpg" width="174" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">darkgoddestarot.com </td></tr>
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What was she trying to tell me? I know how forgetful I am already. I like Ellen's take on it: "Let the memory of evil be washed away." How serene we might be if we remembered our joys & let the sorrows go down the drain or be taken by the river. Ovid wrote that the Lethe river <i>flowed through the cave of Hypnos, where its murmuring would induce drowsiness. </i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKlA-__h6K30p3okaBu8M3I4zpgaxgOZNiugua3c9RSLkWGR3qFL8eaz6CTmqgmCefSyF6DI4tTSiFsyWN79tDfOWj74r-TUtGuFMIcSjLnL20DfqrtJ2eu9OTxIfKqpWYGBucd5BVrSF/s1600/Sarah_Moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXKlA-__h6K30p3okaBu8M3I4zpgaxgOZNiugua3c9RSLkWGR3qFL8eaz6CTmqgmCefSyF6DI4tTSiFsyWN79tDfOWj74r-TUtGuFMIcSjLnL20DfqrtJ2eu9OTxIfKqpWYGBucd5BVrSF/s1600/Sarah_Moon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah Moon, Photographer</td></tr>
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<br />
So far this March, I've had more demand for Tarot readings than January & February combined. There is a pervasive feeling out there of being "dispossessed". It's true that there are the perennial assaults of law suits, ill health, divorces, and leaking roofs etc., but as Maria Popova says in Brain Pickings: <i>"There are also darker undercurrents of philosophical lamentation."</i><br />
<br />
From David the Dreamer: Extraordinary 1922 children's book illustrated by Freud's cross-dressing niece, Tom. <i>The kind of book that reads you as you read it. </i>www.brainpickings.org<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpVe_vfzlp6tb5nx-gkhRlbUVMZL4BlSYbTRabjwzZK_OLym2uYCQh2FE6l1KSyCxaSN8TZ0qzerMmBenTV1UU_CKbYzijdVIRyj29MBS3VXRZfsoqEaGJ0k_bbSWkDgrMtCiuAO4Wp6K/s1600/davidthedreamer10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpVe_vfzlp6tb5nx-gkhRlbUVMZL4BlSYbTRabjwzZK_OLym2uYCQh2FE6l1KSyCxaSN8TZ0qzerMmBenTV1UU_CKbYzijdVIRyj29MBS3VXRZfsoqEaGJ0k_bbSWkDgrMtCiuAO4Wp6K/s1600/davidthedreamer10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David the Dreamer: His Book of Dreams, Tom Seidmann-Freud Illustrator</td></tr>
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<i><br /></i>
<i>There is something very disorienting about being out of sight of land in
a small boat, especially when you find out, with a sinking heart, that
you donât know which way to row to get home again. It is like getting
lost anywhere else, only much worse; for there isnât any Policeman or
Kind Lady to help you, and, although a lot of people you donât know all
looking at you at once is bad enough, nobody at all looking at you makes
you feel even more serious. Very-Little-David felt serious indeed⊠He
told himself sensibly that it would do no good to cry, but he did cry.
So there you are. </i>Ralph Bergengren<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRL2T_gEGEHNLLTAzrEqi_Xw9-mMxMRHwvFqxKKh2uE5EusEmF6_P1KpJqKwQ2tRr20zoBSrd6yZlcnlb6mbGMsZ14SHJD1Eql9BHhA7ATqeqbsL3DXBsOcDh_O1C0NSr3yYhTYn0dN5z/s1600/davidthedreamer9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIRL2T_gEGEHNLLTAzrEqi_Xw9-mMxMRHwvFqxKKh2uE5EusEmF6_P1KpJqKwQ2tRr20zoBSrd6yZlcnlb6mbGMsZ14SHJD1Eql9BHhA7ATqeqbsL3DXBsOcDh_O1C0NSr3yYhTYn0dN5z/s1600/davidthedreamer9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David the Dreamer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
We feel out of control of some essential element of our lives. Sometimes I think we corner ourselves with edicts and broomsticks of dictatorial beliefs. I like this piece from Wendell Berry called "The Real Work": <br />
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">"It may be that when we no longer know what to do<br /><i>
</i>we have come to our real work,<i><br />
</i>and that when we no longer know which way to go <i><br />
</i>we have come to our real journey. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i></div>
Celebrate the befuddlement, the awkwardness, the hesitation and the blockages, how about that! <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtck0zqvQOKkt6CDktdQiHJaGiz2CaurNF-CjzqELlrSdLuk39brDeUrjVOLsHS9YdRr9hnO6QnwxiBMv_9oBxkXig4-rZjpjeXZThyFpPTIM-Ytv9ZGMPWR_TYaxBCA4aSyHbb7Tui7jN/s1600/lartigue_6+horse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtck0zqvQOKkt6CDktdQiHJaGiz2CaurNF-CjzqELlrSdLuk39brDeUrjVOLsHS9YdRr9hnO6QnwxiBMv_9oBxkXig4-rZjpjeXZThyFpPTIM-Ytv9ZGMPWR_TYaxBCA4aSyHbb7Tui7jN/s1600/lartigue_6+horse.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacques Henri Lartigue</td></tr>
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Or, go ahead and cry <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjci6yijLKyLyWEzRWWQihJqx1F-VGZhKieIy5jDo_madq79Yd5BWi2wR8B1l7iDKWjnpUquq2jmVERKsorQssk2dJ9eyEIz5NzmcUnzRqygz_3TYyRZxVx_Jhd0tCaUuawwqwr9QOAiw_V/s1600/emotions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjci6yijLKyLyWEzRWWQihJqx1F-VGZhKieIy5jDo_madq79Yd5BWi2wR8B1l7iDKWjnpUquq2jmVERKsorQssk2dJ9eyEIz5NzmcUnzRqygz_3TYyRZxVx_Jhd0tCaUuawwqwr9QOAiw_V/s1600/emotions.jpg" width="163" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #f6b26b;">Through the rain and the tears, there's always Tarot, the cards like a Lighthouse, guiding us in the dark, thru the storms, helping to avoid shipwrecks. The last few months, I read at an Abbaye, a horse ranch, at Festivals in Aubeterre, Vertaillac, Chalais, Brossac, Abjat-sur-Bandiat, in Paris, Bordeaux, on-line, on Skype, cell phone, on a train, the metro, in a cafe, in a converted donkey shed. I read for French, Dutch, Germans, English, South Africans, Scottish, Irish, Americans, four little French boys (my favorites). Oh, so many stories and aren't we Story People, a riff inspired by Antonio Machado, from my friend Jeanne:</span><br />
<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Aren't we story people</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
picking up the story </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
as we can,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
picking up the ship too</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and carrying it across</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
as we can</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
carrying </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and being carried</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
& being </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
cared for by story.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jeanne Bennion (Ruffles)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>"Todo queda</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Todo pasa,</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;">
</span>
<div style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Pero lo nuestra es pasar.</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;">
<div style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Pasar haciendo caminos,</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Caminos sobre el mar." </b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>everything remains,</i></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>everything passes</i></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>but ours is to pass,</i></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>to pass making/ creating/ shaping roads,</i></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>roads across the sea // the </i></b></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>ocean. </i> Antiono Machado<i><br /></i></b></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWigjZFOm5veKsWkaltu5qNERvsxMGDRmoqEpLBgy5bRo5Hy0FKBWMyGP8M212mCOl-1YxLl8-8RrVEQTviRwWOZ_WR2aZ-QHWHOAOz5Frtl50QWBmuwcM9mMZKIp1GLYLrB8vtFPQsg_/s1600/Aubeterre+Marche.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWigjZFOm5veKsWkaltu5qNERvsxMGDRmoqEpLBgy5bRo5Hy0FKBWMyGP8M212mCOl-1YxLl8-8RrVEQTviRwWOZ_WR2aZ-QHWHOAOz5Frtl50QWBmuwcM9mMZKIp1GLYLrB8vtFPQsg_/s1600/Aubeterre+Marche.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aubeterre-sur-Dronne - converted donkey shed</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheUai45yzPmzdXrueiRd_C924WRRdQ_NsncqX9F7OQZqUBm8ql8PgnMpMsok8tWpOle-gASwYMsbwEKZLb951RvnSyMCcRpu1Zmk7tEr2BqNabU6bshJ266i0_NPmAli5MDXLkuktieP_n/s1600/beautiful+Trish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheUai45yzPmzdXrueiRd_C924WRRdQ_NsncqX9F7OQZqUBm8ql8PgnMpMsok8tWpOle-gASwYMsbwEKZLb951RvnSyMCcRpu1Zmk7tEr2BqNabU6bshJ266i0_NPmAli5MDXLkuktieP_n/s1600/beautiful+Trish.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading at Vertaillac for beautiful Trish from Studio Lavalette </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQrqQY4GeYydpfpQXroVU_apzRVMHv9tScc_2YeTXXtZdrUzuOeJVvv13iZWyvHF4Jnaidmg43dvxfR16AX_qt84slRgjWw3KtGcF7s3L-aal6zW6DBHi0Mj0jDjT4sMr4s_iyDHAx8BT/s1600/Cavalier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjQrqQY4GeYydpfpQXroVU_apzRVMHv9tScc_2YeTXXtZdrUzuOeJVvv13iZWyvHF4Jnaidmg43dvxfR16AX_qt84slRgjWw3KtGcF7s3L-aal6zW6DBHi0Mj0jDjT4sMr4s_iyDHAx8BT/s1600/Cavalier.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gkt4R87MpkftxeFYKUWkm0UXs0L4ENRYRtfyLvslqZfsDKyS47jSstvafGpNhTrq6TrZ6NRulbmR2VRN5mrAvS6pnJ1RswasDOCWBrvN80S-XdM74aHZbdtcx0mgn1LYMpz7RCtcrl0V/s1600/Chalais.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9gkt4R87MpkftxeFYKUWkm0UXs0L4ENRYRtfyLvslqZfsDKyS47jSstvafGpNhTrq6TrZ6NRulbmR2VRN5mrAvS6pnJ1RswasDOCWBrvN80S-XdM74aHZbdtcx0mgn1LYMpz7RCtcrl0V/s1600/Chalais.jpg" width="148" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chalais</td></tr>
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<br />
My four adorable french boys, full of mischief and cupcakes. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6TjqXK7JnmuutIq7Wv6fgJwnRUyoPNGISAwfiHlQquGdoopZ-Dcle5CI4oCrGzE5MkM24h1bVkIvVmI4br6yGEDR-lcopKoLMiw76vOg51-XAJlWKI9kR3oSr6SUhTZOLr_zD6EtVPIW/s1600/A+special+querent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6TjqXK7JnmuutIq7Wv6fgJwnRUyoPNGISAwfiHlQquGdoopZ-Dcle5CI4oCrGzE5MkM24h1bVkIvVmI4br6yGEDR-lcopKoLMiw76vOg51-XAJlWKI9kR3oSr6SUhTZOLr_zD6EtVPIW/s1600/A+special+querent.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A special querent - Abjat-sur-Bandiat</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8VEkbXsMhCZMDJGfia8dPXEFG8W996LF1LoXiyl_KIwzNzuF9aqBxCGxQY3O86W4V9-T3KykfXB2MxRxPZY_apTDCuSl8qoMjmXSB73MfIx_am1sw8qaejmnPE0JO-pw8bEhs3ymGlZw/s1600/FionaAbbaye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8VEkbXsMhCZMDJGfia8dPXEFG8W996LF1LoXiyl_KIwzNzuF9aqBxCGxQY3O86W4V9-T3KykfXB2MxRxPZY_apTDCuSl8qoMjmXSB73MfIx_am1sw8qaejmnPE0JO-pw8bEhs3ymGlZw/s1600/FionaAbbaye.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading for Fiona - Abbaye de Boschaud, Villars</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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At the Abbaye (which Fiona declared a true <i>bijou</i>), we heard our first Cuckoo of the spring and the elusive Hoopoe Bird. Here's a haiku by the famously belligerent, Japanese poet, Buson:<br />
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The mountain cuckoo?<br />
I have no idea what's up<br />
with that fuckin' bird.<br />
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Here's Fiona imitating the Hoopoe Bird; I wish I had a video clip:<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AZbqnEPuqgcdP1QoBHevHhFVWOV6IY2YzDmAMrbuf6g4rO3bt54q32St9YrjKOexMEP8nrSEXYBNaL33CEyCMjHeHW1FlKrJO4BRQfoNi_e17iJYsES0GAb5izbSyDk3W0hdH0VQtcYE/s1600/Fiona+Hoopoe+Bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-AZbqnEPuqgcdP1QoBHevHhFVWOV6IY2YzDmAMrbuf6g4rO3bt54q32St9YrjKOexMEP8nrSEXYBNaL33CEyCMjHeHW1FlKrJO4BRQfoNi_e17iJYsES0GAb5izbSyDk3W0hdH0VQtcYE/s1600/Fiona+Hoopoe+Bird.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fiona - Abbaye de Boschaud</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAaQgaemKPePTUZC9waNRtDJ_US8OXktO6i93-DDmAn7VAz86fhw7Ez9k3uVysrlNtWNNS6iS6ZsqhWIgHw05tkuK9raWjLinJNoRvYeKBC3yiTQZ3VS1xBBGE90Sf2kDyK6ye7e1HNq0/s1600/Hoopoebird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAaQgaemKPePTUZC9waNRtDJ_US8OXktO6i93-DDmAn7VAz86fhw7Ez9k3uVysrlNtWNNS6iS6ZsqhWIgHw05tkuK9raWjLinJNoRvYeKBC3yiTQZ3VS1xBBGE90Sf2kDyK6ye7e1HNq0/s1600/Hoopoebird.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hoopoe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgasdwtzl10mXvxkifQDbhBs9N1z9ZmIAZYdlrqZVVkqukIbfLMFCvKRdlJa1HO2cGx93ZVX6YRm6nmecokP50zeMxrN93CyvyoX7AsB_-a_mamTfz0FKUeVQenhmXMF2c_U628sy_VajLm/s1600/Abbaye+de+BoschaudRudy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgasdwtzl10mXvxkifQDbhBs9N1z9ZmIAZYdlrqZVVkqukIbfLMFCvKRdlJa1HO2cGx93ZVX6YRm6nmecokP50zeMxrN93CyvyoX7AsB_-a_mamTfz0FKUeVQenhmXMF2c_U628sy_VajLm/s1600/Abbaye+de+BoschaudRudy.jpg" width="170" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Communing with the Spirits</td></tr>
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This blog is dedicated to Pierre Mittaud, our French Fairy Godparent who "entered another room" on March 11, 2015. The ghost of loss is upon us & it's "raining in our hearts." Now you are a "beam of light," but then you always were. Our favorite Pierre disant (saying) "Are You Crazy?!"<br />
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We will never forget you, beloved Pierre. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtn1D4u5NL-qrN1lnmR-yKmZSlZ3qlTwVv2RP1klqmhmF7g_ZCv2nPV1vOd2bDzu7H01DvHI0NsfjkkcSuZYLcF4bULFcw__VBwu-P8LdkK4Kc8Y13fSayMSG_lagz0r0s6z_c705XWs4o/s1600/Pierre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtn1D4u5NL-qrN1lnmR-yKmZSlZ3qlTwVv2RP1klqmhmF7g_ZCv2nPV1vOd2bDzu7H01DvHI0NsfjkkcSuZYLcF4bULFcw__VBwu-P8LdkK4Kc8Y13fSayMSG_lagz0r0s6z_c705XWs4o/s1600/Pierre.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pierre at home - Savigny-sous-Faye</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryBkBWZQI4lHWxtBrG_zSxWGpayCAXhvGVrDdJuew5sLP3sKItaS-DmebuFVmtadkuyKNRorKFo50ZS4otfeNMq80ncghx_5fbprQrpFrnhc0xQDUqa88BF9b2VzinEKyBV5qIL4UJMa5/s1600/Kevin+Ruthanne+Skyler+Mona+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryBkBWZQI4lHWxtBrG_zSxWGpayCAXhvGVrDdJuew5sLP3sKItaS-DmebuFVmtadkuyKNRorKFo50ZS4otfeNMq80ncghx_5fbprQrpFrnhc0xQDUqa88BF9b2VzinEKyBV5qIL4UJMa5/s1600/Kevin+Ruthanne+Skyler+Mona+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skyler, Mona, RA & K - Our last happy time together with you, Pierro</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRGzKwXzp9QepDX3FYhJXoNSTX_Kkfs0NsNtQHgYmLY1MA_Wuj-nedplCSJj3TzOk-RLD8MDm3WpY_FE2B-4L9HEPWzNcsHSwfcEVdUUdy4MccDG8pGibQh9oMHPGSdpc15_yxIPjJba1V/s1600/SarahMoonI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRGzKwXzp9QepDX3FYhJXoNSTX_Kkfs0NsNtQHgYmLY1MA_Wuj-nedplCSJj3TzOk-RLD8MDm3WpY_FE2B-4L9HEPWzNcsHSwfcEVdUUdy4MccDG8pGibQh9oMHPGSdpc15_yxIPjJba1V/s1600/SarahMoonI.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah Moon</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Note: I am booked up for private readings till Mid-May - I will be reading again at Le Marquisat annual Spring Arts & Crafts Fayre, Gardes le Pontaroux, April 26th, 10 - 5 p.m.<br />
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<br />Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-49728923944020696962015-03-10T16:37:00.000-07:002015-03-10T23:31:46.127-07:00REALITY UNADORNED & Morning Glow: Reflections<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> I know that when I die, I will become a beam of light. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
- Albert Einstein</div>
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO_norxnWkJWy1iop6X3JGy8KTFmIXmTN_MecDSwWvCNtdf-jRklbIDAJ8lsMQNoHLefgU9cG_BjYGriWpxmOvJ-3420dd7PZR7xXHzSXzfc02Q3rUPbJTeUMPrq01lwI-s5iHeIr-mBir/s1600/Marie+Gervais.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO_norxnWkJWy1iop6X3JGy8KTFmIXmTN_MecDSwWvCNtdf-jRklbIDAJ8lsMQNoHLefgU9cG_BjYGriWpxmOvJ-3420dd7PZR7xXHzSXzfc02Q3rUPbJTeUMPrq01lwI-s5iHeIr-mBir/s1600/Marie+Gervais.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marie Gervais - 106 years young - Le Pontillou</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<i>Childhood slips quickly away,</i><br />
<i>faces fade without names, only</i><br />
<i>a few lifetimes visible on the periphery.</i><br />
<i>You can hardly keep track of now,</i><br />
<i>it's illusory eternity.</i> - Morning Glow: Reflections<br />
Stewart S. Warren <br />
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<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> </span><i><span style="color: #f9cb9c;"> Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a persistent one. </span> </i>Albert Einstein <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yLGgwiH9zSrRWdV66rr_x84qRx-FeTfRFB571PeCTm_xqholPqVsly_XVLnBF_XVFeXVr4B09GKJ6_i0_v2QMXc5_DIu_PDfibnnvO30d8IK19NvnQrINZhKUk-Z-QJgajwLuni0hr2D/s1600/Madame+Le+Pontillou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yLGgwiH9zSrRWdV66rr_x84qRx-FeTfRFB571PeCTm_xqholPqVsly_XVLnBF_XVFeXVr4B09GKJ6_i0_v2QMXc5_DIu_PDfibnnvO30d8IK19NvnQrINZhKUk-Z-QJgajwLuni0hr2D/s1600/Madame+Le+Pontillou.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend Madame S. - Le Pontillou</td></tr>
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<i>The hands that turned the first earth,</i><br />
<i>the hands that watered the sprouts,</i><br />
<i>the hands that raised themselves in praise,</i><br />
<i>the hands that knew what leavening was,</i><br />
<i>For an instant--this particular loaf. </i><br />
Morning Glow: Reflections<br />
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<span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: yellow;"> <span style="color: #f6b26b;"> <i>We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.</i></span></span><br />
Carl Sagan<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbDO1tVhSi1yy91tid80KziVhKNTNWNf4Ys97G6mEMIw5pjCxGR8klytA2nX1rERn6JtYPmsnbqD2Ir4St05IFhUgh3TGzxullh4oji5fRUrnUfNyzYs-KOz8IMllD08VkNsBexSWo-uF/s1600/Man+with+Hay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbDO1tVhSi1yy91tid80KziVhKNTNWNf4Ys97G6mEMIw5pjCxGR8klytA2nX1rERn6JtYPmsnbqD2Ir4St05IFhUgh3TGzxullh4oji5fRUrnUfNyzYs-KOz8IMllD08VkNsBexSWo-uF/s1600/Man+with+Hay.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monsieur Gervais - Le Pontillou</td></tr>
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I'd been thinking about light a lot, because there was so little of it. It rained steadily most every day from November thru February. One day in mid-February, there was a break in the clouds. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzYTCqCjRE2YDHSrLN9mU79Pa3ITeQ2k7Jkvbsnk05uABD528-fzzFW2M4oZqgPdsGJMsZf3TabnX-fBl7a5IExMi7UrnsF2QZZdeEzOOmmHjQktiLnZbUl3JRjPbmz4wbtNSqKXix5hp/s1600/-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzYTCqCjRE2YDHSrLN9mU79Pa3ITeQ2k7Jkvbsnk05uABD528-fzzFW2M4oZqgPdsGJMsZf3TabnX-fBl7a5IExMi7UrnsF2QZZdeEzOOmmHjQktiLnZbUl3JRjPbmz4wbtNSqKXix5hp/s1600/-.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chateau de Charras</td></tr>
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I pedaled to Le Pontillou, a farm outside of Doumerac, to visit Madame S. She had invited me to tea weeks earlier, but the rain, the cold inside my chest, had kept me indoors. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHeVu3ddS8_TZFBK1H0x2ox-_4fTqkIV6zJtmq740XSwUw9_ZskZ3acbe56WDbdhjoHljgmuK7E8XVcrnZh8Xp4SASN0ccW6ITdW3vwxouVCL8W_-XwrQAMytZfhR0TuihcAWK4EJvoo2W/s1600/theriver_sanna14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHeVu3ddS8_TZFBK1H0x2ox-_4fTqkIV6zJtmq740XSwUw9_ZskZ3acbe56WDbdhjoHljgmuK7E8XVcrnZh8Xp4SASN0ccW6ITdW3vwxouVCL8W_-XwrQAMytZfhR0TuihcAWK4EJvoo2W/s1600/theriver_sanna14.jpg" height="400" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The River - Alessandro Sanna</td></tr>
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<i>The River, </i>by the Italian artist, Alessandro Sanna, is a book about the seasons and the different kinds of
experiences and stories that each season brings, and about our connection to place, as well as the connections between geography, setting, and the stories we tell. <i>The River</i> is also about the flow of time, which flows like the river, and carries us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivv2B-k5EgcWT9GdCEZaXcYuu7iJH_eWVUHo1E28N5-mM6BfAmACB7CJePZp06ciB7RsBtRXOcLe7llHIkwjTSBTl09oq_GAKMdMbkfNC4uDqk21RPdoj9qc7RTVfX6OXwjaq8gS0NRmjF/s1600/theriver_sanna3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivv2B-k5EgcWT9GdCEZaXcYuu7iJH_eWVUHo1E28N5-mM6BfAmACB7CJePZp06ciB7RsBtRXOcLe7llHIkwjTSBTl09oq_GAKMdMbkfNC4uDqk21RPdoj9qc7RTVfX6OXwjaq8gS0NRmjF/s1600/theriver_sanna3.jpg" height="640" width="422" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The River - Alessandro Sanna</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<i>When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy</i> - Rumi<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5aEMKutbwLkou4z-O1JPZMeqmrz7ngPFIEss3MsNkvJejQVAjOqp4AEeBLI1RrsyNKzT8sJCc8F3CQVXA2NmXZaZzH5ohzBlzCJxBUA_1XjXvKTYNp2Y6gRkKeNWRVCmnfYD4uxqP4hGf/s1600/106+years.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5aEMKutbwLkou4z-O1JPZMeqmrz7ngPFIEss3MsNkvJejQVAjOqp4AEeBLI1RrsyNKzT8sJCc8F3CQVXA2NmXZaZzH5ohzBlzCJxBUA_1XjXvKTYNp2Y6gRkKeNWRVCmnfYD4uxqP4hGf/s1600/106+years.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poster on frigo</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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When I arrived, Madame was tending to her rabbits and chickens, and readying her garden patch. In her early 90's now, she manages the farm by herself. In the kitchen she had orchids lined up and seed packets organized. Minette, her cat, jumped right onto my lap. Recently I learned that Minette is slang for "puss," young teenage girl - Attention! Can also mean "muff diving". As Minette purred away, I was sure Madame didn't have a clue about her lascivious background.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0pkoaNH8kpnrql8DpjO7an-uuXDSaHX8s3Wk_MyrESJu_TLlAdUyhNcrnWWfsr7Ja7T45hoDdJ-8ykbub3c7pykisHmk3F1sPg7OBYnLQYmI1Wh9XvsfcSuXsEAsmUYz_XXztKepIbdj/s1600/cat+with+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0pkoaNH8kpnrql8DpjO7an-uuXDSaHX8s3Wk_MyrESJu_TLlAdUyhNcrnWWfsr7Ja7T45hoDdJ-8ykbub3c7pykisHmk3F1sPg7OBYnLQYmI1Wh9XvsfcSuXsEAsmUYz_XXztKepIbdj/s1600/cat+with+hat.jpg" height="320" width="276" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minette</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Madame's farmhouse is enormous, large enough to have housed the main family and all their extensions, brothers and sisters, <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">belles-sĆurs</span></span> and <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">beaux-frĂšres, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews. I took a picture of the family tree, the Gervais line growing right out of the trunk, the branches of La Farges, Baruches, Tricards, Barrets, Brejouards, Reytoins, all flourishing right there on the wall. </span></span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><br /></span></span>
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguk4eY_n9Ivj23xz8-rl1thOxU6v9iQD9bgJ1btIe56ic2Tplc55zWhRa24d_lIzIzeaXZRMFx-FjNGyuxgPoLTypNXPq-x7Yx0GBBY4FpzFkI1kv06EAxrXs0VEqNPfenm3I3TLlfiyO7/s1600/Family+tree+Gervais.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguk4eY_n9Ivj23xz8-rl1thOxU6v9iQD9bgJ1btIe56ic2Tplc55zWhRa24d_lIzIzeaXZRMFx-FjNGyuxgPoLTypNXPq-x7Yx0GBBY4FpzFkI1kv06EAxrXs0VEqNPfenm3I3TLlfiyO7/s1600/Family+tree+Gervais.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gervais Family Tree</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"></span></span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">
Then we went to a section of the house I'd never seen before,
another dining room and salon. On the front of a large china
cabinet was a blown up photo of Marie Gervais. I thought it looked
familiar; then I saw the affiche (poster) on the refrigerator from
the gallery/Vernissage I'd attended in 2012 at La Tour Saint-Jean in Marthon. Her great-nephew, Franck Brudieux had paid hommage to Marie for her 106 years on the planet.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJnho0M1lpGpSCQ6W4g9l7J0JuFBwViqHDjkSncYSXGwCqwqA2JB9Rk7fZIrNQFa2vKNI7uNUSQZR8xNT-zt9xMmMAJKOFPmIxUWRDLBvlrEGR4ROUXTJSWuymLgfpkWZ715Rutl9hzot8/s1600/Franck+Brudieux.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJnho0M1lpGpSCQ6W4g9l7J0JuFBwViqHDjkSncYSXGwCqwqA2JB9Rk7fZIrNQFa2vKNI7uNUSQZR8xNT-zt9xMmMAJKOFPmIxUWRDLBvlrEGR4ROUXTJSWuymLgfpkWZ715Rutl9hzot8/s1600/Franck+Brudieux.jpg" height="205" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Franck Brudieux</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And the fruits of her life...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvmavT2zniShxkYl154Spq_mJF72CTuiHevS5cer78_qN66IPhoItbeyb3bl7b_r9b_VdrFC2Ft2tolCd0Pc0SQ0taQ-eeDGMGd9VBUnY8xrPlExhVOwOaC2Ik9vnuGK2hrnNAHwlKMkA/s1600/Vernissage.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvmavT2zniShxkYl154Spq_mJF72CTuiHevS5cer78_qN66IPhoItbeyb3bl7b_r9b_VdrFC2Ft2tolCd0Pc0SQ0taQ-eeDGMGd9VBUnY8xrPlExhVOwOaC2Ik9vnuGK2hrnNAHwlKMkA/s1600/Vernissage.JPG" height="306" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCH8dJru_u0N9QxNNkWcBiUqWh8l6mQI96DCp0er4SZxYTfIrl5yua3Ciz4_aOFKjWdlemOvxsM8Osrl1dwrxKwt93SVEh93ktxk2mgFPg7bedh5MS7AOMm929FUWaNLYFc-YLaLUMnukR/s1600/fruitgervais.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCH8dJru_u0N9QxNNkWcBiUqWh8l6mQI96DCp0er4SZxYTfIrl5yua3Ciz4_aOFKjWdlemOvxsM8Osrl1dwrxKwt93SVEh93ktxk2mgFPg7bedh5MS7AOMm929FUWaNLYFc-YLaLUMnukR/s1600/fruitgervais.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Tour Saint-Jean Vernissage 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Alors pourquoi Marie?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Eight years old at the beginning of the First World War, over time, in spite of herself, she became a symbol, a representative of another world, that of early aviation, suicides linked to the shame of being a single mother, and a certain idea of the sacrifices of the peasantry. From her window at Le Pontillou, she had seen men go to war, the effects of consolidation, rural exodus, and the arrival of the mechanization of agriculture, steadily knitting through it all.</span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">All this time I'd been getting to know Madame S., I never connected her
with Marie Gervais, who was her adored belle-soeur, sister-in-law. Madame showed me photo albums of the early days of the farm, the men bringing in the hay, les chasses, photos of the hunt. I remembered the very day, three years ago, when I was biking along & stopped for a chat with Madame as she was taking her walk, and she told me her sister-in-law had died - she was now all alone. But there was no self-pity or even great sadness, rather the forbearance that I've come to expect and appreciate in the French character. </span><br />
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f9cb9c;">Her nephew, who became an "urban", a city dweller, recalled his vacations at Le Pontillou, when Marie was still there, "part of the landscape, equal to herself, unperturbed." At the crossroads that are called "The Pearl," Marie was always waiting at the end of the white gravel road Franck traveled on his bicycle -- the same gravel road that I traveled to see Madame S. Men, like "rocks," had shaped this small hamlet in their image and Franck had tried to "freeze-frame" twenty years of stability and happiness, as he watched their small world disappearing. </span><br />
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<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji5BzcgxyC67S7ZFT7kA0aNHSuoF3_5SEWxP8Jp04VwymezR1ZjHIb_Prfkn65_u7RywK55qE7dnR5S-m9FqyfqW5mXl9l5miL4t8W9ZaxkXtyXlJFG6wH2YIN3taS85Q6R7998uaBClQs/s1600/royal10eiv_takedown.PNG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji5BzcgxyC67S7ZFT7kA0aNHSuoF3_5SEWxP8Jp04VwymezR1ZjHIb_Prfkn65_u7RywK55qE7dnR5S-m9FqyfqW5mXl9l5miL4t8W9ZaxkXtyXlJFG6wH2YIN3taS85Q6R7998uaBClQs/s1600/royal10eiv_takedown.PNG.jpg" height="240" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It's ironic, because much of the time, Kevin and I feel as though we are living in very <i>rural </i>France, where life is simple, old ways are honored, a "Reality Unadorned." Another persistent illusion!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1a_rnQS4Zoo1i5emBfQVbMdHSim5mO7LOZlirH-pcAybLKVBkInepJRHkoFqUbkZBBgDe7pSZ-hNArXzR3BpXzNEK2Gl4bHyUFi6ghNl84Cij4Q_M-ENTy9DYit5ARNTi7wJZBt8gXYuv/s1600/Eugene-Atget-29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1a_rnQS4Zoo1i5emBfQVbMdHSim5mO7LOZlirH-pcAybLKVBkInepJRHkoFqUbkZBBgDe7pSZ-hNArXzR3BpXzNEK2Gl4bHyUFi6ghNl84Cij4Q_M-ENTy9DYit5ARNTi7wJZBt8gXYuv/s1600/Eugene-Atget-29.jpg" height="320" width="244" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eugene Atget</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In
Paris, in 1924, an American artist, Berenice Abbott, working as an
assistant in Man Ray's studio, stumbled across some photographs by an
elderly French neighbor of Man Ray's, Eugene Atget.<br />
<br />
"The impact was immediate and tremendous. There was a sudden flash of
recognition - the shock of <i>reality unadorned</i>. The subjects were not
sensational, but nevertheless shocking in their very familiarity. The
real world, seen with wonderment and surprise, was mirrored in each
print. Whatever means Atget used to project the image did not intrude
between subject and observer."<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63waSOKULUE-QTnfOhpRlwkGbPGjDQhqnvNOEnCU-2z_WvSxlGSdgjgaBcevA_df5W-Mvysf_Qfs9Ury8NB2_lSdLxvMYASHp3MFL6FS4Xzi4Sf_vg636TIHPFQ6VF1Uyl7HXT4T0pjcc/s1600/Berenice+abbott.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63waSOKULUE-QTnfOhpRlwkGbPGjDQhqnvNOEnCU-2z_WvSxlGSdgjgaBcevA_df5W-Mvysf_Qfs9Ury8NB2_lSdLxvMYASHp3MFL6FS4Xzi4Sf_vg636TIHPFQ6VF1Uyl7HXT4T0pjcc/s1600/Berenice+abbott.jpg" height="320" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Berenice Abbott</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Photography can only represent the present. Once photographed the subject becomes part of the past.</i> Berenice Abbott</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJyo1IREIYPGKdAMKizXLmPd6V7vA_xcRVs0z4DL9dngZtrWD7JJGe5DuLGxBG5UP8__caARIx88HC-szWjSzkdHBfbd_JnXcPqsmkMU0Zok8Y6HBP77qRWoql2xln-9oeg3vU64vzER9/s1600/berenice-abbott-american-1898-1991-light-through-prism-cambridge-massachusetts-from-the-series-science-1958-1961-gift-of-harry-and-jean-burn-1985-47-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJyo1IREIYPGKdAMKizXLmPd6V7vA_xcRVs0z4DL9dngZtrWD7JJGe5DuLGxBG5UP8__caARIx88HC-szWjSzkdHBfbd_JnXcPqsmkMU0Zok8Y6HBP77qRWoql2xln-9oeg3vU64vzER9/s1600/berenice-abbott-american-1898-1991-light-through-prism-cambridge-massachusetts-from-the-series-science-1958-1961-gift-of-harry-and-jean-burn-1985-47-3.jpg" height="267" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Berenice Abbott - Light thru Prism</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
At the tender age of 16, Einstein imagined chasing after a beam of light.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2NAMp7RPKXLcx-Ks8qWNvqwy21ijkunqDNyt8CYwB_oBfg6GgJ5kR0i0GZ0CJs6A2ax14XcC5n9WgAnBaQlnghTfeu3Xyf0uDZohxpGspVHEZUoTWkPqoz49htPWMgafgy31HPk7mfRL/s1600/light-beam-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2NAMp7RPKXLcx-Ks8qWNvqwy21ijkunqDNyt8CYwB_oBfg6GgJ5kR0i0GZ0CJs6A2ax14XcC5n9WgAnBaQlnghTfeu3Xyf0uDZohxpGspVHEZUoTWkPqoz49htPWMgafgy31HPk7mfRL/s1600/light-beam-3.jpeg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Wherever there is light one can photograph - </i>Alfred Stieglitz</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
On Sunday, as we wandered thru Charras' annual Brocante, my psyche was flooded with the artifacts & remnants of an Old World, epitaphs of the rural exodus - some treasures and loads of junk. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgLUYVOf1BEQ17tfQuWaFM7WqJr5nDlh0FWMRQ4j5Ipb7Od1CR_0Bo5R8Hs1bfUUaqxs7cWC8wK2YQsrFRdOkrrsOyCweLyR9V8NIdzU1_FnQUXbZo5DECUQLULvaQKoxaShX8RwWrvfnA/s1600/Brocante+fox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgLUYVOf1BEQ17tfQuWaFM7WqJr5nDlh0FWMRQ4j5Ipb7Od1CR_0Bo5R8Hs1bfUUaqxs7cWC8wK2YQsrFRdOkrrsOyCweLyR9V8NIdzU1_FnQUXbZo5DECUQLULvaQKoxaShX8RwWrvfnA/s1600/Brocante+fox.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brocante, Charras March, 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There is only one loss - only one.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I follow it down passageways, </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> past the necessity of shattered time. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i></div>
<i><i>At each new iteration</i></i><br />
<i><i>and spontaneous release, </i></i><br />
<i><i>a moment of freefall and doubt.</i></i><br />
<i><i><br /></i></i><i><i><br /></i></i><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCK-eCbfrDSKljx17iANDQA1_3ncoDZPplb9uJIdu-a_yqeOHG6oNuvEtXvMTHuTKYLi8Vv8cgocon5fQ9awyntKS0PIrbDC3iZvqqePpvkDn_4aQUXaioaBEQCesYEIx2OD0hf6ZExwnc/s1600/sunflowers+jan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCK-eCbfrDSKljx17iANDQA1_3ncoDZPplb9uJIdu-a_yqeOHG6oNuvEtXvMTHuTKYLi8Vv8cgocon5fQ9awyntKS0PIrbDC3iZvqqePpvkDn_4aQUXaioaBEQCesYEIx2OD0hf6ZExwnc/s1600/sunflowers+jan.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Villebois-Lavalette, Sunflowers in January 2015</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</i><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<i>
</i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I try to hold on to what </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>was before - to no avail. </i></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeqzYb23H_sI2gFfPToDsky70_YEMx2uNSarDiTILymgW0CLEtFBO75mgKjnhYeW1-JXN_wJDAZKH6e2XxJjrEzW0z0xVsrfXUUEYLUiqBCbbJpc4P31MShdyysDCKisFl9s-HLoL7dLqo/s1600/Fortress+at+VilleboisJan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeqzYb23H_sI2gFfPToDsky70_YEMx2uNSarDiTILymgW0CLEtFBO75mgKjnhYeW1-JXN_wJDAZKH6e2XxJjrEzW0z0xVsrfXUUEYLUiqBCbbJpc4P31MShdyysDCKisFl9s-HLoL7dLqo/s1600/Fortress+at+VilleboisJan.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medieval Fortress, Villebois-Lavalette - January 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>In burned out towns and tired minds,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>in the circuit overload of commerce</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and consuming, what appears fragile</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>is growing from rock and steel,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>the new world pulsing, pushing</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>through the old. </i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirzq8kOcgCAbRGBGqrrXI8B933hacVI74NtpjlDeoHTlqKxjxd4yWUfKKauthXU82rBQsT8b8vTufnB8_B5NDdme62zMk437qu0i-bgAVFdrePF-Pak97IlMJjJiZX153-PBUccrnLkatb/s1600/The+first+Crocuses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirzq8kOcgCAbRGBGqrrXI8B933hacVI74NtpjlDeoHTlqKxjxd4yWUfKKauthXU82rBQsT8b8vTufnB8_B5NDdme62zMk437qu0i-bgAVFdrePF-Pak97IlMJjJiZX153-PBUccrnLkatb/s1600/The+first+Crocuses.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first Crocuses, Doumerac - March 2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSs5ury_M-Xucgwy8UmAD6n0CsTRPrioqvdDalu0l_4r8e9sqGaV6oAEBVPhraRsCDibSG-WLqlnCnB8J5akPa2YK5cQ2jGD0gqC7NLuWMf7hrGYF1sDIHeFei0o721BwC1qTwHFzvCbsH/s1600/Pierre-Jacques.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSs5ury_M-Xucgwy8UmAD6n0CsTRPrioqvdDalu0l_4r8e9sqGaV6oAEBVPhraRsCDibSG-WLqlnCnB8J5akPa2YK5cQ2jGD0gqC7NLuWMf7hrGYF1sDIHeFei0o721BwC1qTwHFzvCbsH/s1600/Pierre-Jacques.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mushroom Hunting with Pierre-Jacques in Vouzan, Nov.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><i>The light, sister asks,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><i>how does it come there in the sky?</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><i>An array of solar collectors, he says,</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><i>billions of human beings</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><i>and all Nature of creatures,</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b4a7d6;"><i>Together we make it so.</i></span></div>
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Morning Glow: Reflections</div>
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Stewart S. Warren </div>
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I was honored to write the foreword to Stewart S. Warren's latest poetry book, Morning Glow: Reflections. <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">C'est un livre</span> <span class="hps">pour les Ăąges.</span></span> It can be purchased on Amazon. </div>
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And will the self-promotion never end??! My Celtic Faerie Tales: <i>Now, Voyager</i>, about an orphaned Border Collie searching for his true home, have gone live at: magicaladventuresofvoyager.com</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wales - Pembrokeshire Coast</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><i><span style="color: #45818e;">NEVER LOSE A HOLY CURIOSITY</span> </i></span>- Albert Einstein</div>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-15824666414007123012015-02-27T09:54:00.000-08:002015-03-01T05:30:20.013-08:00REALITY UNADORNED, Slouching towards Bethlehem & Raining Cranes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Imagination is the eye of the soul </i></div>
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- Joseph Joubert (Recueil des Pensées de M. Joubert) </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Full Moon Over Charras - December 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVmFgYy-dunjlCuHK6pLmmN1FDW1avilw9A8HtCC-nXPKVcP4ke8BfSF8kRcygxjU2FWNyCYzN-WSLMpAkj4XA-wPGUFVHsgSAe2B0AxxXf7rFl2iKGEEuyBC-Bkavu1vAG6zuCaR3zImJ/s1600/sky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVmFgYy-dunjlCuHK6pLmmN1FDW1avilw9A8HtCC-nXPKVcP4ke8BfSF8kRcygxjU2FWNyCYzN-WSLMpAkj4XA-wPGUFVHsgSAe2B0AxxXf7rFl2iKGEEuyBC-Bkavu1vAG6zuCaR3zImJ/s1600/sky.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charras Sky - December 2014</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKul-oche5QVt0Ge2068yucfP7jkC7uM-fpu9izXLLh7qoc5VawlQMDNeGbghHbMwdkwWy4XUXEj9GQEdGr8bu5-tNZLsLamQfJoeLfaOVkbkbdwv-3fyZd4npHH_b-hYMjztuVJHGFbW/s1600/On+the+way+to+Vertaillac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKul-oche5QVt0Ge2068yucfP7jkC7uM-fpu9izXLLh7qoc5VawlQMDNeGbghHbMwdkwWy4XUXEj9GQEdGr8bu5-tNZLsLamQfJoeLfaOVkbkbdwv-3fyZd4npHH_b-hYMjztuVJHGFbW/s1600/On+the+way+to+Vertaillac.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Slouching Towards Bethlehem" - Dawn on the way to Vertaillac - December</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><i>"...The darkness drops again; but now I know that twenty centuries of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, and what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"</i> W. B. Yeats</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jISgYdJP_yT98OQ3j3h4aPG6_azx0IcbM8iVECLm_-VQQPUppCrDmTSOZ7vgfHprzrxyK90JU-3-sNfD-HULGhBMxEOtm00CN1iOunTwn-0IoqdBBDktW7Cm0TnoIvUTYE4SOiAJj9np/s1600/Cranes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jISgYdJP_yT98OQ3j3h4aPG6_azx0IcbM8iVECLm_-VQQPUppCrDmTSOZ7vgfHprzrxyK90JU-3-sNfD-HULGhBMxEOtm00CN1iOunTwn-0IoqdBBDktW7Cm0TnoIvUTYE4SOiAJj9np/s1600/Cranes.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cranes still flying south - January 2015</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Ginger - February 14, 2015 </td></tr>
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I know. I know. It's February, my missing Valentine's day, notwithstanding, I'm still in love with you, dear readers, though I've been unfaithful. I promised you Alchemy & A Paris Hangover - Part II, but it's nowhere to be seen. Each time I set about spilling my guts, poised to share the further adventures of the époustouflante (breathtaking) dreamscape that is Paris, the world changed once again. Montmartre + the inaugural opening of the renovated Picasso Museum + the Catacombs + Sacré coeur + Lapin Agile... now blurred and diffused. And to be fair, Joan d'Arc, Niki de St. Phalle, and Napolean are a hard act to follow.<br />
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So let's see if I can perform a little alchemy and transmute the ordinary days of my simple country life into something of merit. Mais avant, a few photos of my last days in Paris before all the leaves tumbled down and the cartoonists fell.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCYaEBeIYEYLlXTVnwrfuFrWzTJeNCcyOFTmtVBttrXAwiRhTdZXFzvERsXBmqqEtvZVeCVcl_qKbNUJgaR23fwPTynkE5rIqSsqE2C6UV75IDbCoAI90-H1oxhqZB7SOSQ_M87KppHkO3/s1600/Place+Marcel+Ayme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCYaEBeIYEYLlXTVnwrfuFrWzTJeNCcyOFTmtVBttrXAwiRhTdZXFzvERsXBmqqEtvZVeCVcl_qKbNUJgaR23fwPTynkE5rIqSsqE2C6UV75IDbCoAI90-H1oxhqZB7SOSQ_M87KppHkO3/s1600/Place+Marcel+Ayme.jpg" height="185" width="200" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monsieur Dutilleul - Sculptor Jean Marais</td></tr>
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Without Mila, our Venezuelan friend, Dermot, Marsha and I would never would have shook hands with the sculpture above: <i>Le Passe-Muraille</i>, homage to the writer, Marcel Aymé, depicting his anti-hero, Monsieur Dutilleul, from one of his stories, <i>"The Man Who Walked Through Walls"</i> (later made into a film). Dutilleul discovered he had an unusual talent to be able to walk thru solid walls, but sadly, instead of using his power for good, he abused and lost it, ending up forever stuck in a wall. I hate it when that happens!<br />
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But you have to admit that loafer he's wearing is truly "luxe de l'esprit"* - luxury of the moment. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadjSoM7KH0wn-7g-i1dznLUHYObf3eRJ0W75Ro7Rc-SOm1KkO9tRgBtTYLhYroJj_pE6iucBxKSAbAFVDRU_3jOs_lHBFq47_FqLM9-YN5BabkS1BK_BwjPDPkjNbz7OWeHzrt-jB9LtT/s1600/Mila+with+a+golden+handshake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadjSoM7KH0wn-7g-i1dznLUHYObf3eRJ0W75Ro7Rc-SOm1KkO9tRgBtTYLhYroJj_pE6iucBxKSAbAFVDRU_3jOs_lHBFq47_FqLM9-YN5BabkS1BK_BwjPDPkjNbz7OWeHzrt-jB9LtT/s1600/Mila+with+a+golden+handshake.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mila - Montmartre</td></tr>
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Here's Mila giving him the golden handshake - it's supposed to bring you good luck (so maybe you can walk thru walls too). *wink wink, Mike.<br />
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Another treasure Mila led us to was the "I love You Wall" - The initiative of Frédéric Baron is engraved in this long chain of silent passions. It is a meeting place and a space where love comes together in every language on 612 enameled lava tiles. The shape of the lava tiles echo the sheets of paper on which
Baron wrote his texts. The splashes of color on the fresco are fragments of broken hearts; the Wall bringing about a reunification of humanity torn apart - a place of reconciliation.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSHNDt7DPQGL0rQM72BkIPm8Xc-OiJCG9vaxixeJU7eYBvRqkd5awr5hpK1TRRrievwtKxLol63qpNnUp2s5mW7z7paONpF0l3KLW2gtzIXf7dxIuOLVGBXdcgK3kGqh8Car_u68wcv8tL/s1600/I+love+you+wall+large+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSHNDt7DPQGL0rQM72BkIPm8Xc-OiJCG9vaxixeJU7eYBvRqkd5awr5hpK1TRRrievwtKxLol63qpNnUp2s5mW7z7paONpF0l3KLW2gtzIXf7dxIuOLVGBXdcgK3kGqh8Car_u68wcv8tL/s1600/I+love+you+wall+large+(2).jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I Love You: The Wall" - Butte Montmartre, Paris</td></tr>
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A disciple of Phileas Fogg, Baron dreamed of a trip around the world in 80 "I Love You's." He started by asking his brother to write "I love you," then neighbors, Arabs, Portuguese, Russian, Hawaiian, Irish, etc. Eventually he filled three notebooks with "I love you" written a thousand times in 300 different languages. Claire Kito, an oriental calligrapher assembled the script. Maybe it is not as architecturally imposing as Venice's Bridge of Sighs or the Taj Mahal, but it certainly is as romantic. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGv8QupRrGK5EIvpx-R52imcGE-Lh1w2d8y1T4liOIWT7zadTR5I1q_8fK9uUxJ3s1onM1rnzva7rkCmwMUh6EZRX1fpfxWMBCuBB40UcvsgLeMpWpgsW6J0vCI0QncGORtL7Y_IXEIAM5/s1600/I+love+you+wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGv8QupRrGK5EIvpx-R52imcGE-Lh1w2d8y1T4liOIWT7zadTR5I1q_8fK9uUxJ3s1onM1rnzva7rkCmwMUh6EZRX1fpfxWMBCuBB40UcvsgLeMpWpgsW6J0vCI0QncGORtL7Y_IXEIAM5/s1600/I+love+you+wall.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to point out "I love you" in Gaelic for Dermot & Kevin, but it's up too high</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGvkSBxEwqMDbeay2Xt5D1da9e5xMtB3KrQsGMAF7VOnrURt9MIE5tRW15n-rFaCsJVCGJh3_IZUQyO7eCTQzo7jZ6vyn404_Q0CTMEwOzM89nyYBwfXXFpJJe0ykxhCLqklf42ED_blL/s1600/Marsha+I+love+you+Wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjGvkSBxEwqMDbeay2Xt5D1da9e5xMtB3KrQsGMAF7VOnrURt9MIE5tRW15n-rFaCsJVCGJh3_IZUQyO7eCTQzo7jZ6vyn404_Q0CTMEwOzM89nyYBwfXXFpJJe0ykxhCLqklf42ED_blL/s1600/Marsha+I+love+you+Wall.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marsha, pointing to Hungarian "I Love You" for Lorenc</td></tr>
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But here's my favorite part of the Wall - Wallflower Rita Hayworth's thought bubble:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CA2HCaAT5FRXRuxkwKlEne4UcT3fg04oSSK3LzxFYdKR-TUUO4B2YPoExHGtO-P18rb9ZQ7gbz-hW5aE2WCFid6TYGwb75FQNoMUJFxfUsxL2_4Ebc-T9h7RQOoYITOX_r8spCWwT8y4/s1600/Desordre(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CA2HCaAT5FRXRuxkwKlEne4UcT3fg04oSSK3LzxFYdKR-TUUO4B2YPoExHGtO-P18rb9ZQ7gbz-hW5aE2WCFid6TYGwb75FQNoMUJFxfUsxL2_4Ebc-T9h7RQOoYITOX_r8spCWwT8y4/s1600/Desordre(1).jpg" height="401" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love is messy, chaotic...so let's love!</td></tr>
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I became intrigued by the rubbed out figure to the right. Was it supposed to be a man looking messy? A bit of research led me to a street photographer's blog: Sab's Secret Paris (Sab Will, www.parissetmefree.com). Therein he revealed it was originally Ava Gardner up there with a thought bubble that said: "Soyons raisonable... exigeons l'impossible, a quote from Che Guevera, "Let's be reasonable...demand the impossible." <br />
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Sab (a fine detective) tracked down the artist, Rue Meurt D'Art (Jean Marc Paumier), who had the original Ava rolled up in the back of his studio. The master of "Collage Sauvage," Rue earned the title for his zealous, revolutionary sticking of stuff all over the walls of the 20th arr., which reached its savage peak on May 28, 2011, the 140th anniversary of the two month long siege by the Paris Commune in 1871. It's a rich and complex chunk of history which made me so weary reading through it that I am cribbing Sab Will's pithy summation: "The Commune was a two-month attempt at some sort of rule by the working classes, which ended in disaster, chaos and bloodshed."<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitq5Og4whGSpXyRLO06gFktsHfThFhztfidMe2TIx1ZqJ6hUVS1DV9XjE8Kh4RBSo1IrNKU97zbua_Fz405E7O5bp2iI7tZMVMnWPchd0b8Lt5PW81tG8pNGKr1oCc21wVQ0LlZ1IFLc_N/s1600/Dead+of+the+commune.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitq5Og4whGSpXyRLO06gFktsHfThFhztfidMe2TIx1ZqJ6hUVS1DV9XjE8Kh4RBSo1IrNKU97zbua_Fz405E7O5bp2iI7tZMVMnWPchd0b8Lt5PW81tG8pNGKr1oCc21wVQ0LlZ1IFLc_N/s1600/Dead+of+the+commune.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aux Morts de la Commune 21-28 Mai, 1871, Photo Sab Will</td></tr>
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At the wall above, in Pere La Chaise cemetery, 147 brave communards fought in the mud with their bare hands, were lined up against the wall and executed. In all an estimated 30,000 commune members fell, many of whom were women. This ended what was dubbed, Semaine Sanglante, the Week of Bloodshed. The group in the photo are singing <i>Le Temps des Cerises</i>, a revolutionary song dedicated to a nurse who supposedly died during the bloody week. It's a beautiful song, and you can hear Yves Montand singing it on You Tube if you need a good cry. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKaj_bnp1xyA-cfNMqc98m0ATLKV4C6X7maADKIouwEhnx7RTJn8poCOqBD0IJ5ssj6nUyj5hOB0XOqeEpzchxvQWUIbV8JYWPXmvCyjHktkJJ-hmrqeRmTvzFX-MTffmuAt7oVD4QnSK/s1600/commune+women.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKaj_bnp1xyA-cfNMqc98m0ATLKV4C6X7maADKIouwEhnx7RTJn8poCOqBD0IJ5ssj6nUyj5hOB0XOqeEpzchxvQWUIbV8JYWPXmvCyjHktkJJ-hmrqeRmTvzFX-MTffmuAt7oVD4QnSK/s1600/commune+women.jpg" height="320" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Women of the Commune - Les Morts - Photo Sab Will</td></tr>
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I discovered the graphic account below by the English journalist, Archibald Forbes, who recorded the aftermath of the Commune in an article in The Daily News, 26 May, 1871:<br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><i>"When I returned, the communists were at their last gasp in the
ChĂąteau d'Eau, the Buttes de Chaumont and PĂšre-Lachaise. I visited
PÚre-Lachaise, where the very last shots had been fired ⊠the ghastliest
sight was in the south-eastern corner where, close to the boundary
wall, there had been a natural hollow.</i><i> The hollow was now filled up by dead. There they lay, tier above
tier, each successive tier powdered over with a coating of chloride of
lime - two hundred of them patent to the eye, besides those underneath
hidden by the earth covering layer after layer. Among the dead were many women ⊠faces distorted out of humanity
with ferocity and agony combined. How died these men and women? Just
yonder was where they were posted up against that section of pock-pitted
wall ⊠and were shot to death as they stood or crouched.â</i></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpja7W91m3Mldmle8cvnXPqJmUTHETjETbkVi61CuLg57rZBCaDPTn4NPtSN_Bo80aisa4oMliu4raulG5Vlr8ay7yz43BtpsazAqMkuMJDLMpdlBdsDlzTu3r-vUVtLDxjnI7yQyuFd1K/s1600/Victims.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpja7W91m3Mldmle8cvnXPqJmUTHETjETbkVi61CuLg57rZBCaDPTn4NPtSN_Bo80aisa4oMliu4raulG5Vlr8ay7yz43BtpsazAqMkuMJDLMpdlBdsDlzTu3r-vUVtLDxjnI7yQyuFd1K/s1600/Victims.jpg" height="297" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Victimes des Revolutions, 1909, Paul Moreau Vauthier - Outside Wall Pere La Chaise</td></tr>
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And for those of you rabid Eco-Warriors, lest you think Rue is degrading the landscape or has much in common with the Graffiti Artists, who indelibly mark their territories, you'll be happy to know, that slowly, (if by weather) or quickly, (if by random officials) the gluey collages degrade and disappear.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwyFA6dES54QjjDpeCsBH9A9dJ7zPrLd5BZ4P9NbLZ-R5zaKr2lYv7JeH_mdjyz9nZJdIp4aeZllI49LwjGdvvdOGcJFEzeg1CRwlIUXb6TUfv3IQ9o-mQwJ_r2-mEy3ewLuj3EzMS8cY/s1600/Ava+Gardner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIwyFA6dES54QjjDpeCsBH9A9dJ7zPrLd5BZ4P9NbLZ-R5zaKr2lYv7JeH_mdjyz9nZJdIp4aeZllI49LwjGdvvdOGcJFEzeg1CRwlIUXb6TUfv3IQ9o-mQwJ_r2-mEy3ewLuj3EzMS8cY/s1600/Ava+Gardner.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ava Gardner reasonably demanding the impossible</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvGc7fHR1ybMyshFSK-Y78NSpHtH4xwj3j7ceSSrAaEQmn87K8O5iiWe1g2-yZvgDsaKtiZ9pKYS3jCC7UQqDf-QpCMJ25KI_QoNHnsAygNJf1uriIs2mfDbfpvYf5VQkibhhVQPSb3oCZ/s1600/Rue+Meurt+D'Art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvGc7fHR1ybMyshFSK-Y78NSpHtH4xwj3j7ceSSrAaEQmn87K8O5iiWe1g2-yZvgDsaKtiZ9pKYS3jCC7UQqDf-QpCMJ25KI_QoNHnsAygNJf1uriIs2mfDbfpvYf5VQkibhhVQPSb3oCZ/s1600/Rue+Meurt+D'Art.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rue Meurt D'Art (Jean Marc Paumier)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGwcLG6g9DbIjhnFy6yYSFxGpYaEX9wd3an8gpxyzgTXZkUDlHchUqgN955hRDgfr8Z9g9oplSBG3gujnaEj4b_3ZXpBUOdcrXp_CgW-U1IZgb0By346kMl5HdeTqOVTBcgeOyJezkTdm/s1600/Rue+meurt+d'art_9932+a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGwcLG6g9DbIjhnFy6yYSFxGpYaEX9wd3an8gpxyzgTXZkUDlHchUqgN955hRDgfr8Z9g9oplSBG3gujnaEj4b_3ZXpBUOdcrXp_CgW-U1IZgb0By346kMl5HdeTqOVTBcgeOyJezkTdm/s1600/Rue+meurt+d'art_9932%2Ba.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rue Meurt d'Art changing Ava's thought bubble</td></tr>
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Ava went from "demanding the impossible" to "alors aimons"...maybe Beaudelaire was right when he wrote in "Les Fleurs du Mal" : <i>The form of a city changes faster than the heart of a mortal</i>.<br />
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Well, that wasn't a very cheery patch of history, started out so fun-loving. Perhaps I'll pull a rabbit out of my pan. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVIY-LDAqDgWBf-xd7uQPOm7bvGrESnCdQIYFVdxm4iaKQzz49DqBaxCVZ8eOauzJB_1q6ui0_6jEyBplfI6jKq_qDL5SDRS90bEf1Z2zNX602yb_0Y9VAhYQYrEYixMWgiGVWTMc3T77/s1600/15-le-lapin-agile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVIY-LDAqDgWBf-xd7uQPOm7bvGrESnCdQIYFVdxm4iaKQzz49DqBaxCVZ8eOauzJB_1q6ui0_6jEyBplfI6jKq_qDL5SDRS90bEf1Z2zNX602yb_0Y9VAhYQYrEYixMWgiGVWTMc3T77/s1600/15-le-lapin-agile.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabaret au Lapin Agile (The Nimble Rabbit Cabaret) - Montmartre Cabaret, 18th arr.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPN4k-UdexymF3FgVhb5x2WsJ3aKxIX_HN_3VwUUmCOnWRX8JBvcYe317vAF5kmgeMNTk4XB_MbFxCAWjU1HHpOCgLyU_haUoILbYTAVfKFU8I4-1fh9NIpW_FykdmhnrWhP_OvmuXrBT/s1600/LapinAgile03.GIF" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPN4k-UdexymF3FgVhb5x2WsJ3aKxIX_HN_3VwUUmCOnWRX8JBvcYe317vAF5kmgeMNTk4XB_MbFxCAWjU1HHpOCgLyU_haUoILbYTAVfKFU8I4-1fh9NIpW_FykdmhnrWhP_OvmuXrBT/s1600/LapinAgile03.GIF" height="252" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interior ca. 1880 - 90</td></tr>
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I know this is going to reveal a trĂšs grand slice of my cultural ignorance, but I didn't know that <i>Lapin Agile </i>was a real place. I thought Steve Martin a clever bunny for coming up with the concept and the play. Finding out the authentic history does not make him any less clever, but he did have some good stuff to work with. Originally called the Cabaret des Assassins, it was a favorite watering hole for struggling artists and writers like Picasso, Modigliani, Appolinaire, Utrillo, Ernest Heminway, Henry Miller, also had its fair share of pimps, eccentrics, anarchists, students from the Latin Quarter and the Bourgeoisie, always up for a bit of slumming.<br />
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I would have loved to hang out there for the evening, drinking Pernod, jabbering about art, and carving my initials into the table top, but it was closed and one needs reservations for everything these days. Oddly, despite all the tourism, the place still seems to retain its original charm, and looking at the posted menu, even the prices seem more in line with the last century. Paris manages to be so enduringly optimistic, or as one cynic asked: is it just a city in love with its own myths? <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEYeAhZv_5lVkjMeHKKvm5-x-YfUCGFHOnpxmaDqScfSt_L6qcgTUbQom_5Y7oS7pY5HIHKK23Ui_Wr5RU_EHsLkfY2ariN-dQ-nRLv_NqnrNDzbNkWoR9jo5jHsKf2bn-aKFSv2ekgb9u/s1600/Me+&+Marsha+Lapin+Agile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEYeAhZv_5lVkjMeHKKvm5-x-YfUCGFHOnpxmaDqScfSt_L6qcgTUbQom_5Y7oS7pY5HIHKK23Ui_Wr5RU_EHsLkfY2ariN-dQ-nRLv_NqnrNDzbNkWoR9jo5jHsKf2bn-aKFSv2ekgb9u/s1600/Me+&+Marsha+Lapin+Agile.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me & Marsha hopping about</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhciFkkdEmqoT-qLn0AMyLROjtuygcW2AfrDcM1ErDZNRgr-OjKOVBf4kBEsqvZqHIiADdHporH1lShK4IYhr1F1Tm1efXBdwdBYbCP_n2PiCX1GKFJPXx_4_Iij5xBdjaDZTtFm7EE4WGG/s1600/1905+Pablo+Picasso+-+Les+Noces+de+Pierrette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhciFkkdEmqoT-qLn0AMyLROjtuygcW2AfrDcM1ErDZNRgr-OjKOVBf4kBEsqvZqHIiADdHporH1lShK4IYhr1F1Tm1efXBdwdBYbCP_n2PiCX1GKFJPXx_4_Iij5xBdjaDZTtFm7EE4WGG/s1600/1905+Pablo+Picasso+-+Les+Noces+de+Pierrette.jpg" height="230" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picasso - Les Noces de Pierrette, 1905</td></tr>
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Next time: Slouching Towards Christmas Fetes/Events = Tarot, Tarot, Tarot, more rains, more cranes, & Unadorned Reality<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Blake- Prophecy</td></tr>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-70954321342309536562014-11-25T17:02:00.001-08:002014-11-25T23:57:51.705-08:00ALCHEMY & A Paris Hangover - Ăa vaut la peine, Part I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: yellow;"><br /><span style="color: #f1c232;"><br />ALCHEMY: Any seemingly magical process of transmuting ordinary materials into something of true merit. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f6b26b;"><span style="color: #f1c232;">"Tarot is a finite system of infinite possibilities"</span> </span>- J. Philip Thomas</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybL1NcL_2ahC3bfNPUaDX-OHcJS5ICNYsdN9HNPIXqQ_QbC03vJOGSyKUPZyHXh92PeziEBZLJUgHO-gioBxHz0xQqq86nuNCROYmzBuZtL1RnAK4BXQ_SzCaP08OawHtro3VWMRkrM0W/s1600/Alchemy+JPhilip+(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgybL1NcL_2ahC3bfNPUaDX-OHcJS5ICNYsdN9HNPIXqQ_QbC03vJOGSyKUPZyHXh92PeziEBZLJUgHO-gioBxHz0xQqq86nuNCROYmzBuZtL1RnAK4BXQ_SzCaP08OawHtro3VWMRkrM0W/s1600/Alchemy+JPhilip+(3).jpg" height="640" width="382" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tarot de Paris - J. Philip Thomas </td></tr>
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1325 - 1375; Middle English Alkamie, from Old French alquemie, from Medieval Latin alchymia, from Arabic al - the + kimiya; chemistry from Late Greek, Khumeia. <i><span style="color: #c27ba0;">"He wondered by what alchemy it was changed, so that what sickened him one hour, maddened him with hunger the next." </span> </i>(Marjorie K. Rawlings)</div>
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Motto<i>: Nutrisco et Extingo</i> - I nourish & I extinguish - The crest and salamander amidst flames on the Tarot de Paris Alchemy card, is the badge/emblem adopted by Francois 1er, King of France, 1515-1547. It refers to the medieval legend of salamanders living in flames. The ancients, dating back to Pliny & Aristotle believed that salamanders could extinguish the flames with their bodies as virtue could triumph over the fires of passion.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMrgVX5iPW_4QEd70wVnvKX6jVcoOp-4-sd37dZumIuwOkA_dHCA4K7u1llk0bGae4apfc6mu8T9KoNXDmEwoQbeJIwWKz07A0saA5UJ-mrAz4G7zyuI4z0ufhr1DWA29KI6z_hhPNm2Y/s1600/salamanders_performing_alchemy_by_go_insane-d3fgnet.png.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMrgVX5iPW_4QEd70wVnvKX6jVcoOp-4-sd37dZumIuwOkA_dHCA4K7u1llk0bGae4apfc6mu8T9KoNXDmEwoQbeJIwWKz07A0saA5UJ-mrAz4G7zyuI4z0ufhr1DWA29KI6z_hhPNm2Y/s1600/salamanders_performing_alchemy_by_go_insane-d3fgnet.png.jpg" height="315" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salamanders performing Alchemy by Go Insane.deviantart.com</td></tr>
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Francis was born in a chateau, died in a chateau; built and restored many in between, most notably Chambord, Fontainebleu, Blois, and the Louvre. He installed hundreds of salamanders throughout his residences; Chambord has 800 carved into the ceiling of the main hall. At Fontainebleu, they are on chairs, facades, carved upon gilded wainscoting, modeled in stucco above picture frames, on fireplaces. The ones I am particularly fond of, are both in the gallery at Fontainebleu - the gold charmer below, and the one on the forehead of the fantastical Royal Elephant fresco. You can't quite make it out, the emblem with the plumes sprouting fire - easier to see the stucco one above, between the angels, surrounded by flames. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salamander - Galerie - Fontainebleu</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Royal Elephant - Galerie - Fontainebleu</td></tr>
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Whenever I am lucky enough to score a trip to Paris along with a cozy place to stay (thank you Dan, Mila & Marsha), I choose a card from one of my favorite decks: the "Tarot de Paris", step into my Nancy Drew persona, and try to ferret out the statues & monuments that Thomas collaged onto each card. He has given clues to the whereabouts of many of the elements, but has admitted he has forgotten quite a few. It's like a treasure hunt and even when I come up empty handed or photograph-less, I have discovered new facets of the gem & mystery that is the "eternal" Paris. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mila & Dan's 14th Arr. apt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk9f7MuM8qOQ2NfIxHtoJfphdRX6oPaRbT6v_Jxp8GzuNGvtMqJBUdbrJ7LkHzvILnH-4T3iqUcu-w5_JgQeHePS8htauVGVOBgxF4RYoldSbUaWJS0fvLyjiHxzNsBQOPoQZCpIaxhMtX/s1600/SciSource_BN0370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk9f7MuM8qOQ2NfIxHtoJfphdRX6oPaRbT6v_Jxp8GzuNGvtMqJBUdbrJ7LkHzvILnH-4T3iqUcu-w5_JgQeHePS8htauVGVOBgxF4RYoldSbUaWJS0fvLyjiHxzNsBQOPoQZCpIaxhMtX/s1600/SciSource_BN0370.jpg" height="320" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
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The genesis and creation of Thomas's deck: 3500 photographs, twenty years in the making (though sixteen of those years were not spent physically working on the deck) is best described in an interview he gave to Aeclectic Tarot's Alex B. Crowther:* <i> </i></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="color: orange;"><i><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">"My highest intentions were to draw fresh parallels between the mystical art/architecture of Paris and its intimate influence on tarot in history while allowing the city to expose its subtle mysteries...my views on the cross pollination of Paris and Tarot were formed during the experiential process of physically 'walking thru the city and the symbols' taking photos for the TDP deck. As improbable as it may sound, the city's veil was lifted before me and I was allowed to briefly glimpse the subliminal forces that have sustained its existence over thousands of years. What I saw was an eternal Paris - a living archetype - fashioned by revolutions of chaos, creativity and conservatism." </span></span></i></span></span></div>
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- J. Philip Thomas - www.tarotdeparis.com</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La France Renaissante - France Reborn, Le Pont de Bir-Hakeim </td></tr>
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With Mila as my tireless guide and companion, we quickly found the statue that Thomas had photographed for his Alchemy card above. "France Reborn" is on the island next to the Bir-Hakeim bridge in the 15th arr. The rider astride the horse is Jeanne d'Arc, a political symbol in France since the time of Napolean. A channel named Lazaris told me many years ago that I had been burned at the stake for heresy, so I feel a special kinship with Joan; an additional charge against her was "cross-dressing" - they didn't pin that one on me. She was burned at the stake in 1431 at the age of 19. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSpmYhgyoKwPJwKBiUQcZeqXSg6JP5-Y4CFfm5SAcRP68pGZSUPAjHxCPP77mpPjdpAARks693Ajc-8GjbqZl9kDB4iD-UUNVD0efjeIZnGj1Jg2B7vyflmAaCw8l7bMLmaEefKsFFqYdh/s1600/Jeanne+D'arc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSpmYhgyoKwPJwKBiUQcZeqXSg6JP5-Y4CFfm5SAcRP68pGZSUPAjHxCPP77mpPjdpAARks693Ajc-8GjbqZl9kDB4iD-UUNVD0efjeIZnGj1Jg2B7vyflmAaCw8l7bMLmaEefKsFFqYdh/s1600/Jeanne+D'arc.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ixkpuUFQBJ8iyWCkapb66IOoYOsgFA15b0Jf46fHQjrpASkHuvHYr4Bik8C0ZRwlMs3wp5dPVOm_3lcdjs8LYOeU15IjArZslr1XY3M9XWgFfMF47Ek51c5m_zWwwsGrI0jtVXtN6tHM/s1600/Jeanne4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ixkpuUFQBJ8iyWCkapb66IOoYOsgFA15b0Jf46fHQjrpASkHuvHYr4Bik8C0ZRwlMs3wp5dPVOm_3lcdjs8LYOeU15IjArZslr1XY3M9XWgFfMF47Ek51c5m_zWwwsGrI0jtVXtN6tHM/s1600/Jeanne4.jpg" height="262" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeanne d'Arc</td></tr>
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Bonus shot of Japanese couple posing for wedding photographs - love the red dress!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hzTM82bxYp_vaXPeN7TeapXLnxIgn5KchJrFA0dAHIS_0uu00NWr9XhLvAojFq4NWn3sEIPoQ1BH5dSJZDNc2FKFyBdI41rli2uy01BhtLvcZPO4p9Z__QSUpRIt7DeugxTHxCqFgQTm/s1600/Japanese+couple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hzTM82bxYp_vaXPeN7TeapXLnxIgn5KchJrFA0dAHIS_0uu00NWr9XhLvAojFq4NWn3sEIPoQ1BH5dSJZDNc2FKFyBdI41rli2uy01BhtLvcZPO4p9Z__QSUpRIt7DeugxTHxCqFgQTm/s1600/Japanese+couple.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Seems unfair to place Jeanne so near to the happy couple, but she's earned her place in history.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmuMSshkC1rywBT1P5JrwTP3SUygvg8zU-NU8E0NezHefkE2DDsvDNcszMIRABVl2q0N2qIaHWCacFBRJyfGYWk47E0dx3xrJY19L26oJ-Sr6ZKoAfoojgtArIU8P-1o2h-CgT5bhB0oN/s1600/640px-Stilke_Hermann_Anton_-_Joan_of_Arc's_Death_at_the_Stake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmuMSshkC1rywBT1P5JrwTP3SUygvg8zU-NU8E0NezHefkE2DDsvDNcszMIRABVl2q0N2qIaHWCacFBRJyfGYWk47E0dx3xrJY19L26oJ-Sr6ZKoAfoojgtArIU8P-1o2h-CgT5bhB0oN/s1600/640px-Stilke_Hermann_Anton_-_Joan_of_Arc's_Death_at_the_Stake.jpg" height="400" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joan of Arc Death at the Stake by Herman Stilke - 1843</td></tr>
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Next I dragged Mila to the <span class="nickname">MusĂ©e de lâArmĂ©e at the </span>HĂŽtel national des Invalides to find the salamander emblem that Thomas hinted was on one of the canons amongst the 500,000 artifacts of military hardware, armor and weapons in the collection. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0tsVuL6B-nkhrhBwkshA4Ek9LvMO5o76A2m618cal1r1KItDRhi2cCa482zH-u2nbtqmcsYT_LZWxQCLHsuYwxY3jJ85jmjZLpFmLFvwhwpJ4_hMB6qW7CutvysMKDDiOFe6XWBS0Uuc/s1600/Musee+de+l'Armee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0tsVuL6B-nkhrhBwkshA4Ek9LvMO5o76A2m618cal1r1KItDRhi2cCa482zH-u2nbtqmcsYT_LZWxQCLHsuYwxY3jJ85jmjZLpFmLFvwhwpJ4_hMB6qW7CutvysMKDDiOFe6XWBS0Uuc/s1600/Musee+de+l'Armee.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="nickname">MusĂ©e de lâArmĂ©e</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me & my Arsenal</td></tr>
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We took dozens and dozens of photos, mais hélas, could not find the salamander "badge". Oh la la, I never thought I could fall for a canon, but I did. They are works of art, created and christened by individual artisans, with names like Le Souffleteur (the boxer of ears) made by J. <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="en"><span class="hps">Bérenger,</span></span> 1772, and Le Gentil, 2782 kg of canon par Jean Maritz, 1746.<br />
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Time to say goodbye to the canons & all the pretty horses...<br />
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And the <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">papier mùché</span></span> Napolean...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Napolean's Tomb</td></tr>
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Time to get some caffeine & "faire la queue" (stand in line) for Niki de St. Phalle at the Grand Palais<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnCWlHDXRXXysd0XFBiDeFKPm-4VYs_LVW_e1-K5PLGWTlljlljaT4bZLLWaNb8xAUWnrwlZNIYeuGkPlUlkiuIlTK9pFO0NEPP-xQ_gGHAtuVv91Fr9Rk-gASHhWFqmIU0ppAYEkaHl0O/s1600/Niki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnCWlHDXRXXysd0XFBiDeFKPm-4VYs_LVW_e1-K5PLGWTlljlljaT4bZLLWaNb8xAUWnrwlZNIYeuGkPlUlkiuIlTK9pFO0NEPP-xQ_gGHAtuVv91Fr9Rk-gASHhWFqmIU0ppAYEkaHl0O/s1600/Niki.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I want to go ever deeper into the poetry of it" - Niki de St. Phalle</td></tr>
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...to be continued in Part II<br />
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Upcoming tarot events for those in France:<br />
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I will be reading cards at <span style="color: orange;">Le Perroquet Verte Noel Fete in Chalais, November 29th</span><br />
and at <span style="color: orange;">Aubeterre-sur-Dronne Christmas Market on Nov. 30th</span> - Cartomancy & Tarot<br />
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Happy Thanksgiving to our friends in USA, save us some leftovers. <br />
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<br />Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-30805065914001306252014-10-17T08:20:00.000-07:002014-10-19T23:03:56.836-07:00Simply OCTOBER - RĂ©colte ce que tu sĂšmes - Harvest what you sow <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqPe2hKpUJY-kU2Olf-Gtqtkgp_lUUpAaTV2W4Ri-sYLvDSb1Hdz-I8Us8a296iwSYcl6GlrwfyY6gEBH_RgDMRGHIy8KoChmbsYdaMsH-anzZ9uFeF7ekBoVj7aaoIDcvLlXN0OL60By/s1600/Beecornflower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrqPe2hKpUJY-kU2Olf-Gtqtkgp_lUUpAaTV2W4Ri-sYLvDSb1Hdz-I8Us8a296iwSYcl6GlrwfyY6gEBH_RgDMRGHIy8KoChmbsYdaMsH-anzZ9uFeF7ekBoVj7aaoIDcvLlXN0OL60By/s1600/Beecornflower.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bee on Cornflower - On the way to Honey Festival</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeCfuXVpvaGDAWpJcSyVp8EYnb_pbLGvFJq_WELynZhn2OXrCphtWn-OvGeamLiBvf74rVZTT9IsbaOwn12McqjdG0X1sIHP5LGqyvkXWF0mScuyPHFFJpH5BZV_38oJzLAnkz3-ZsEEF/s1600/GrapevinesMeunier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeCfuXVpvaGDAWpJcSyVp8EYnb_pbLGvFJq_WELynZhn2OXrCphtWn-OvGeamLiBvf74rVZTT9IsbaOwn12McqjdG0X1sIHP5LGqyvkXWF0mScuyPHFFJpH5BZV_38oJzLAnkz3-ZsEEF/s1600/GrapevinesMeunier.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Maine Meunier - Ferme Auberge - Chavenat, Honey Festival</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdTYxf2guXQyDqDsTQJs4__hH8sxt103l274aQfpgQ1CiK1iS9jkMBLKQCyg4WHgDGQ4GkhxMS4Uco_2ATpRZiweINt5TtQckxhfGenOYjO_NJQWaYlhf4g1XWjgjRU0_AEUj6mAUq7iS/s1600/Oak+leaves2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdTYxf2guXQyDqDsTQJs4__hH8sxt103l274aQfpgQ1CiK1iS9jkMBLKQCyg4WHgDGQ4GkhxMS4Uco_2ATpRZiweINt5TtQckxhfGenOYjO_NJQWaYlhf4g1XWjgjRU0_AEUj6mAUq7iS/s1600/Oak+leaves2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oak leaves - the Forest, Grassac</td></tr>
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Autumn glaze, fall leaves tumbling, the warm gossamer air still embracing us - biking at first light past fields of burnt orange, mixed with buffy tweeds & pale greens, violet ferns, magenta leaves and red roses hugging stone walls, purple grapes, mustards and gold leaf - October, I say it out loud and some melancholy creeps in - goodbye Indian summer.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Shed - Doumerac</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last roses - Doumerac</td></tr>
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<i>"Sometimes in our life, a door opens. We enter, and a new landscape
appears in front of us--a scene that is new, vaster and more striking
than anything we have ever been used to. Before we were contained in a
small safe place. We did not imagine this door existed. But once we
open it, we find beautiful views, hills and valleys, sunlit rivers,
mists like embroidery, wide spaces. Our life will never be the same."
</i>Piero Ferrucci from Beauty and the Soul<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roses against stone wall - Doumerac</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG5lOP5RQmtm7vMJH-pfAuWphCKMOv0YRK52rd8dqQEX_Kn4brITosMKvese7WocAseZ2BmqgmDM7fVTGy-O4L_6-svDn9zrMMF0JRfSgJyMa4U1DZnXJeBItvRw0PPmkZs7drB8GehvYe/s1600/Butterflykeep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG5lOP5RQmtm7vMJH-pfAuWphCKMOv0YRK52rd8dqQEX_Kn4brITosMKvese7WocAseZ2BmqgmDM7fVTGy-O4L_6-svDn9zrMMF0JRfSgJyMa4U1DZnXJeBItvRw0PPmkZs7drB8GehvYe/s1600/Butterflykeep.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Butterfly - Doumerac</td></tr>
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<i> Some say life is short, I say life is tall, grab a straw</i> - SARK<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Zz5MZviFCuKq4_a286qM4C32_kHUcmg1I23e7_30dMTSBiOK2qAtCoaanpNHz26GM5AdH8Du7DSSeMPYKmg3xsF7MWLBGokI8TbJW77TJPo6E3t9EYMLuQm10cLHmRTXutomzsuK_EKb/s1600/girl+spinning4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Zz5MZviFCuKq4_a286qM4C32_kHUcmg1I23e7_30dMTSBiOK2qAtCoaanpNHz26GM5AdH8Du7DSSeMPYKmg3xsF7MWLBGokI8TbJW77TJPo6E3t9EYMLuQm10cLHmRTXutomzsuK_EKb/s1600/girl+spinning4.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizY9bR8l1-_cYB9T_i9oiO17RuWUJHUZOXtwYruvLw46P66tg6nyNVn1y8RxQNrtR0GayMZmCn_JG7hUsnttw9a2-jwLMVDZkgs-SMb3im-aHJNzKQ4QcwOGvK_j1O7GGdnXgFMLeHxPrl/s1600/Girl+spinning6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizY9bR8l1-_cYB9T_i9oiO17RuWUJHUZOXtwYruvLw46P66tg6nyNVn1y8RxQNrtR0GayMZmCn_JG7hUsnttw9a2-jwLMVDZkgs-SMb3im-aHJNzKQ4QcwOGvK_j1O7GGdnXgFMLeHxPrl/s1600/Girl+spinning6.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XULOaWulS9-H3Mo3rrIC2KZNjtfoZhHfISeyBOCCDrjFyxbJCA3cOucdjd7bjX0FXYMCIEvpnDAX9YDnZC3AW9M3muJGHLx5F-jCZLi7ICiXP2hE-HTQyuZkkqcyIGOPs-PpsXhfZMvQ/s1600/Spinning+girl+update.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XULOaWulS9-H3Mo3rrIC2KZNjtfoZhHfISeyBOCCDrjFyxbJCA3cOucdjd7bjX0FXYMCIEvpnDAX9YDnZC3AW9M3muJGHLx5F-jCZLi7ICiXP2hE-HTQyuZkkqcyIGOPs-PpsXhfZMvQ/s1600/Spinning+girl+update.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girl Spinning - Hotel de Ville - Angouleme</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Circuit des Remparts - Angouleme</td></tr>
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The last few months my world has been blurry, as I've waited for eye surgery to burn off the cloud cover from my eyes. As I waited and waited and waited, my French friend Annie gave me a wonderful piece of advice, passed on to her from one of her belles-soeurs (sisters-in-law) "Accroche-toi aux branches - "Hold onto the branches...and so I have.<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Alone, in the slant of sun, back against a stone wall, I've watched days pass from light to shadow - like a cat curling into warmth. "</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I went to collect the few personal belongings which...I held to be invaluable: my cat, my resolve to travel, and my solitude."<br /> ----Colette</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/51575.Colette"><br /></a></span></span></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5ACDPw36_2EO9vHJYlJ-kwGRU7ZsQ33-elabyx97xCa6CvMUhfEujZMBz5l3xUNUnFzlqyLEs1MibtmzZcb6nwXzjgvTiDlt_hR0K60KSH4_wwkV_yfYbzbNTWuTqrIkUI3GdUWO62r4/s1600/Cat+in+sun3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5ACDPw36_2EO9vHJYlJ-kwGRU7ZsQ33-elabyx97xCa6CvMUhfEujZMBz5l3xUNUnFzlqyLEs1MibtmzZcb6nwXzjgvTiDlt_hR0K60KSH4_wwkV_yfYbzbNTWuTqrIkUI3GdUWO62r4/s1600/Cat+in+sun3.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cat - Jonathan & Nicole's house</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYo9mpA49IbNzmN4e6RUFqg6HcfwSQbVC7QAFMj95qLQn20mcvVsNI-nTPdlGQvY9EI2PQ_0g7-dy_rPVQYONV_Xii3oGiN87Oc4_6lq6iH6U85HBRh-HYBVarse06TJdl3vs68U9pe-_7/s1600/Cattail2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYo9mpA49IbNzmN4e6RUFqg6HcfwSQbVC7QAFMj95qLQn20mcvVsNI-nTPdlGQvY9EI2PQ_0g7-dy_rPVQYONV_Xii3oGiN87Oc4_6lq6iH6U85HBRh-HYBVarse06TJdl3vs68U9pe-_7/s1600/Cattail2.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cattails - field near Charras</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: orange;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRg13-bQIIiFQlGWvzmt03bcxrCZiVKfsyor05uLY5dHv7u01FaNet_DwvTKQ_cUL8Zds0K47gzYdqrpKYeqmTO77cH8VWnauYhW2ubdDrArRDuc36442fXWs8JxnZta4AdtyL7lJAwcRU/s1600/Thistle+tiny+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRg13-bQIIiFQlGWvzmt03bcxrCZiVKfsyor05uLY5dHv7u01FaNet_DwvTKQ_cUL8Zds0K47gzYdqrpKYeqmTO77cH8VWnauYhW2ubdDrArRDuc36442fXWs8JxnZta4AdtyL7lJAwcRU/s1600/Thistle+tiny+hands.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thistle - Tiny hands</td></tr>
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</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: orange;"><i> When our hands are alone, they open, like faces. There is no shore to their opening</i></span>. St. Gerard<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir0lQz-SWiz20QpX7dHXOvC4F3mTg_tZYEMnCHLHdlH4Hs8whidVr4JRrUeOx-ukfSCzw5mArxoAG6nplWTcg2dvvZoPW3ghT77-3yE1FENoEKKVY7tpsFnnlazTDOPqMpKfqvds6tgNhm/s1600/All+the+blue+canoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir0lQz-SWiz20QpX7dHXOvC4F3mTg_tZYEMnCHLHdlH4Hs8whidVr4JRrUeOx-ukfSCzw5mArxoAG6nplWTcg2dvvZoPW3ghT77-3yE1FENoEKKVY7tpsFnnlazTDOPqMpKfqvds6tgNhm/s1600/All+the+blue+canoes.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the blue canoes - Aubeterre-sur-Dronne</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpS7HwF-DkDA-uW4gCkCk5kZbAxUjcTnWRMuwfxsyBN152UBm_7c-6gcdy6YZmwZFvScaQUdzkuofHE0gzyW2_rRpmtVR6rqRpQ5qEowFqnm7qWx8JGegg9Ty4WKBpo_Y0NWJxoJfZaxCs/s1600/aubeterre+on+floating+dock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpS7HwF-DkDA-uW4gCkCk5kZbAxUjcTnWRMuwfxsyBN152UBm_7c-6gcdy6YZmwZFvScaQUdzkuofHE0gzyW2_rRpmtVR6rqRpQ5qEowFqnm7qWx8JGegg9Ty4WKBpo_Y0NWJxoJfZaxCs/s1600/aubeterre+on+floating+dock.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the River Dronne</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7E7kRci404MYzMYkupNQFi4T97a4BWHk_YPXqyjgP30uXgm64Ae_FdXtO-PbZLMerHqf4JyCZNRS6JxVYjfwcNLp6qRdxkjqdVyIhLDWGWES83I0H_3yhoiLuvrLuX79775BDaCJ69sD/s1600/Man+with+baby+Aubeterre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7E7kRci404MYzMYkupNQFi4T97a4BWHk_YPXqyjgP30uXgm64Ae_FdXtO-PbZLMerHqf4JyCZNRS6JxVYjfwcNLp6qRdxkjqdVyIhLDWGWES83I0H_3yhoiLuvrLuX79775BDaCJ69sD/s1600/Man+with+baby+Aubeterre.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Father & Baby daughter - Aubeterre-sur-Dronne</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDxY2LTivAycbaBbJTxDbTT8pyaeAkmj439p6XyN7f62Lnk2ESQH_IofWa78fyz5oNPKmrFLDLAb8YZDzuZIvwWRf0rcoAQsV5uzWWT8PRMrCOKkz4GEvEHC3Y3UtPmOC0DFaxFJ0Q4CC/s1600/Boy+Aubeterre2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDxY2LTivAycbaBbJTxDbTT8pyaeAkmj439p6XyN7f62Lnk2ESQH_IofWa78fyz5oNPKmrFLDLAb8YZDzuZIvwWRf0rcoAQsV5uzWWT8PRMrCOKkz4GEvEHC3Y3UtPmOC0DFaxFJ0Q4CC/s1600/Boy+Aubeterre2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lej2BFP5eZENJ-J5I6H5MvTDp60yyjscZ-ipFVqXZ3mdI-2HGzpiYjvOOPBUKjRy3ijbgYW_5A_Up_04bXVCRmZvec8BL-cvIlNpM7vWnSKKsU43KrYivVjlpDzfXlSL5mjeN4TwXYDj/s1600/Kev+bridge+Aubeterre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lej2BFP5eZENJ-J5I6H5MvTDp60yyjscZ-ipFVqXZ3mdI-2HGzpiYjvOOPBUKjRy3ijbgYW_5A_Up_04bXVCRmZvec8BL-cvIlNpM7vWnSKKsU43KrYivVjlpDzfXlSL5mjeN4TwXYDj/s1600/Kev+bridge+Aubeterre.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kevin - Bridge over the River Dronne</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOtjKZrvDFOoD_FPr3KFOdhBYotyVe-5B4sHV-Zu8Taeg9r8p3kxlZHe7-Q-f_slUk5dOqaE0kORDkm3DL0KILVYgPxAbD2SYkGa8-OlioSROqNOL2sQbVaRZPgfxilxZxBIbKB_A9J8ZD/s1600/Bridge+Aubeterre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOtjKZrvDFOoD_FPr3KFOdhBYotyVe-5B4sHV-Zu8Taeg9r8p3kxlZHe7-Q-f_slUk5dOqaE0kORDkm3DL0KILVYgPxAbD2SYkGa8-OlioSROqNOL2sQbVaRZPgfxilxZxBIbKB_A9J8ZD/s1600/Bridge+Aubeterre.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stone Bridge, Aubeterre-sur-Dronne</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"> From the Notebooks of Anne Verveine, VII</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Distance was the house in which I welcomed you.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">But it was in the river </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">that we became cadence, there where the current braided</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">together again, after the stone bridge stanchion parted the stream.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">It was to last only as long as the beauty lasted.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Do you believe in the soul?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Words torn from the void, wet and mewling,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Where we walked on the mountain, water</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">poured around us, surged up from the springs, seethed</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">down into rivulets, rocky streams, and one long blinding cascade:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">your kisses were an <i>eau-de-vie</i> and as bitter.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">I am poured out like water.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Distance is feminine in French.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">I held a knife to a man's throat and let him bleed quietly into a cup.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">What does "us" mean?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Coiled serpentine headdress of Leonardo's woman:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">you wanted her, I wanted you.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Chill sunlight flexing itself on the city river</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">gave me the emptiness I needed</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">to write these instructions: Sorrow</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">is a liqueur. Drink deep. We will all be consumed.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
--Rosanna Warren </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjan6IcgKPAw6NMPdqNZl4dVtKswLxdCWEOa8y2p6cS3tPBN2jNDKdmuNfPYfjnx99B25_mCWQjTr5RnF4tUz5MidoO11nQuizmAb5NWEQKqMNWUtgZJOVE5HUkTPnYttqhZbvZe03eQE1t/s1600/ParcParrot2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjan6IcgKPAw6NMPdqNZl4dVtKswLxdCWEOa8y2p6cS3tPBN2jNDKdmuNfPYfjnx99B25_mCWQjTr5RnF4tUz5MidoO11nQuizmAb5NWEQKqMNWUtgZJOVE5HUkTPnYttqhZbvZe03eQE1t/s1600/ParcParrot2.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parrot - Parc Colonial - Grosbot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkI4ixpaQeaFtp8-A67kQQeak1JhyphenhyphenowlmntmU2fMP6HfEjYFayxW5VjGGX97S5bLQX5vqOYnbYiYbYWd_CiSJ5d1wcsb4JsTjNaMIxTEFnP4vO7hMWsqw-M3XerIbeEK4d18KX8hig7ebg/s1600/Statue+PC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkI4ixpaQeaFtp8-A67kQQeak1JhyphenhyphenowlmntmU2fMP6HfEjYFayxW5VjGGX97S5bLQX5vqOYnbYiYbYWd_CiSJ5d1wcsb4JsTjNaMIxTEFnP4vO7hMWsqw-M3XerIbeEK4d18KX8hig7ebg/s1600/Statue+PC.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue - Parc Colonial</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglRh08RRDg8JKp0xfaoOPIW-kzvbOl48AnL56gx1R0qGNjXkXbvmXYHSsyuPk13SQQdAVAXyNsvlLucS3xVJSY8RGozRqjIRUkoGPLjAbI2zlUS42OFfRFD5IK8NS8Y2opkv1_Ld0adaYT/s1600/Rud+&+Toni+statue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglRh08RRDg8JKp0xfaoOPIW-kzvbOl48AnL56gx1R0qGNjXkXbvmXYHSsyuPk13SQQdAVAXyNsvlLucS3xVJSY8RGozRqjIRUkoGPLjAbI2zlUS42OFfRFD5IK8NS8Y2opkv1_Ld0adaYT/s1600/Rud+&+Toni+statue.jpg" height="320" width="284" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Antoinette & Moi - Parc Colonial</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPvCgBacteWVT4g9dkU0TCXF5H0_akbKmtKUCYvIGRCwXe_VNfOdEXFrR2RChYN8243rmC_RG95cih7yyoRTwymh0DwEBcJ5QfB2GxjiTAqdBkpTmnW_xaJiwgEF0g4HE6nyjWmWJdKgs/s1600/Berries+&+Bamboo+Parc+C.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaPvCgBacteWVT4g9dkU0TCXF5H0_akbKmtKUCYvIGRCwXe_VNfOdEXFrR2RChYN8243rmC_RG95cih7yyoRTwymh0DwEBcJ5QfB2GxjiTAqdBkpTmnW_xaJiwgEF0g4HE6nyjWmWJdKgs/s1600/Berries+&+Bamboo+Parc+C.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Berries & Bamboo - Parc Colonial</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I spent some time visiting animals; we seemed to be on the same wave length.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwi5HF4Cjh1UmnP43lXTxZx5vsEsw-QIvWUk64kyPemplzKtUpzbDFdJE6MbJZzkFGxx44xfie5YiT6YvFfmjw4h_Ybkthbww-Kv1eVKlou4cX7Cr0mdNaGzgMDUf1RHK3jRWbN4cfrIw-/s1600/Rasputin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwi5HF4Cjh1UmnP43lXTxZx5vsEsw-QIvWUk64kyPemplzKtUpzbDFdJE6MbJZzkFGxx44xfie5YiT6YvFfmjw4h_Ybkthbww-Kv1eVKlou4cX7Cr0mdNaGzgMDUf1RHK3jRWbN4cfrIw-/s1600/Rasputin.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rasputin - Le Maine Meunier - Chavenat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMIsAYzZlfunINRyMEhZY86OMTuFgxqG5fv0-7SbNqgIbgVKmMBhhBPB7JUoYxocQW24x1jz4W-1b_4B8Vi4CMgpKwpwWfVR_sx3yog2LwjNcc1cTdgpIWQi7fwXeM1NMrNBEmiliI1HMl/s1600/Kevin+&+goat+friend2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMIsAYzZlfunINRyMEhZY86OMTuFgxqG5fv0-7SbNqgIbgVKmMBhhBPB7JUoYxocQW24x1jz4W-1b_4B8Vi4CMgpKwpwWfVR_sx3yog2LwjNcc1cTdgpIWQi7fwXeM1NMrNBEmiliI1HMl/s1600/Kevin+&+goat+friend2.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kevin & Rasputin - Honey Festival - Chavenat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuJ8tjkSQ7-Oc-5qYQ7WQQxpvTEx0OU-YnmOrVybvvddOjL2CsI5MJ_ODO7aGRBmpMPza8ZQN-oumNhnWMvKo_qW5peMfITvKIffVUuAEUfHGLPx8hs2cvqhBj4p7KXPI6lZ1A5UOjVd-/s1600/Geese.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuJ8tjkSQ7-Oc-5qYQ7WQQxpvTEx0OU-YnmOrVybvvddOjL2CsI5MJ_ODO7aGRBmpMPza8ZQN-oumNhnWMvKo_qW5peMfITvKIffVUuAEUfHGLPx8hs2cvqhBj4p7KXPI6lZ1A5UOjVd-/s1600/Geese.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Geese, Chavenat Honey Festival</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFUYtixvkWg25kMBy1rxwbwLKs35rI3wb6XLrDa3y0CRaCiBmCusChabeos3ePv1IZ1ZMKvMPHAndfPJ5v3S-blDRR8yjVXeCfKBXAaijdJK5-blt26BLT7wLP0YvUjvjR2TN0hf9-XjA0/s1600/Lizard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFUYtixvkWg25kMBy1rxwbwLKs35rI3wb6XLrDa3y0CRaCiBmCusChabeos3ePv1IZ1ZMKvMPHAndfPJ5v3S-blDRR8yjVXeCfKBXAaijdJK5-blt26BLT7wLP0YvUjvjR2TN0hf9-XjA0/s1600/Lizard.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lizard - Doumerac</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
OCTOBER â cut up poem version</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
berries<br />
watched you sleep<br />
all summer long -<br />
ripened junipers<br />
changed<br />
to vinegar,<br />
longing itself <br />
eaten<br />
at dawn<br />
<br />
if that broken, yellow dog<br />
wakes again at twilight<br />
to turn into the bronze bobcat<br />
furry and sure<br />
climbing sixty foot trees<br />
following the cry of her tennis ball concert<br />
under a canopy of oak fingers<br />
you know she can't see Tammy's backridge fence,<br />
but she can still smell <br />
buckets of damp Eucalyptus earth clinging,<br />
hear the copper mushrooms<br />
dried to dust<br />
fallen -<br />
a train whistle vanishing<br />
through summer doorways.</div>
<br />
<br />
RA Martin<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrrvzBpEdmdd4xGy0EcRDodB5tIdbv4xEWPsmw66Mcc2Wc5NUPj8YK3KzvD3Ylf2rba8A3PFZtyx4JwilmpzlYNAp2N0HTkbZ3bfCV2EZ-HSbtRXfTVAT-eok5rEyRxbiJPcGt42HV-Zq/s1600/mushrooms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrrvzBpEdmdd4xGy0EcRDodB5tIdbv4xEWPsmw66Mcc2Wc5NUPj8YK3KzvD3Ylf2rba8A3PFZtyx4JwilmpzlYNAp2N0HTkbZ3bfCV2EZ-HSbtRXfTVAT-eok5rEyRxbiJPcGt42HV-Zq/s1600/mushrooms.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Champignons - Charras</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9GaYXQ9GMQS60NIYhsq6kb6iDgDmEqAN15EZRTrmhYXPflsjhTRej2Gznk-DiXqhkXpZQOhWqomCA3CsxMYlGJZfHtDTlJvGW6TCa0y9elKEaAldAr7WIdxtvOCNsmcJPRcLGBBFt1TG/s1600/Field+waiting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9GaYXQ9GMQS60NIYhsq6kb6iDgDmEqAN15EZRTrmhYXPflsjhTRej2Gznk-DiXqhkXpZQOhWqomCA3CsxMYlGJZfHtDTlJvGW6TCa0y9elKEaAldAr7WIdxtvOCNsmcJPRcLGBBFt1TG/s1600/Field+waiting.jpg" height="110" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After harvest, field resting, waiting</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix9t6yoQW6U03zerMC_LqePT0v0XNq8Vx0R3vs3WKK5WU8CslVhro6hhZzBeDxnnoftljIVKYGAuntrGM1fjGEPVVqGvvFbSXx45lkobukH8Us561UA4Haw3qr5RVRP6U6AlRPrU_FV2cT/s1600/Bike+ride+burnt+orange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix9t6yoQW6U03zerMC_LqePT0v0XNq8Vx0R3vs3WKK5WU8CslVhro6hhZzBeDxnnoftljIVKYGAuntrGM1fjGEPVVqGvvFbSXx45lkobukH8Us561UA4Haw3qr5RVRP6U6AlRPrU_FV2cT/s1600/Bike+ride+burnt+orange.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End of Day - Antennae waiting</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAySbqd_NevgwBH4A_aXDt8myWbuYc3_DbVMhttKqT5t8iA-TroYiAjVRe_u5y-vKOck_ys-TwS2HHfQHk_tqlV4BkTEIxkCC5VH2FlGuiyFtVY7-0Ln5OyQDmP1bGPnBmXLNGURvXWlV/s1600/Endofday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAySbqd_NevgwBH4A_aXDt8myWbuYc3_DbVMhttKqT5t8iA-TroYiAjVRe_u5y-vKOck_ys-TwS2HHfQHk_tqlV4BkTEIxkCC5VH2FlGuiyFtVY7-0Ln5OyQDmP1bGPnBmXLNGURvXWlV/s1600/Endofday.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset - Charras</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0Yy8zEQurWw_zvhm5mrOKKdiFpFUy84NZh3FPfAvEdehbZ8keKwK0_XX5HSKO-8Li-DikZnqamOfsaLDSVFsfJUNNVMGxsWgXqQDxsmcrt-SL_HCHqMJnJ7CwnaViBebbFbuzWQaxr2_/s1600/Tiny+Buddha+PC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0Yy8zEQurWw_zvhm5mrOKKdiFpFUy84NZh3FPfAvEdehbZ8keKwK0_XX5HSKO-8Li-DikZnqamOfsaLDSVFsfJUNNVMGxsWgXqQDxsmcrt-SL_HCHqMJnJ7CwnaViBebbFbuzWQaxr2_/s1600/Tiny+Buddha+PC.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny Buddha - Parc Colonial - Grosbot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSwlZab4k_R_-Ktb0tN0S1IakI1SUsDf1D-nWbLyadGWujHf_uKGOtGEfJjTVAZ64IndCOWe3jnNhSt6LtHsCWaOCrq20xWZLamUjaLuWw2T-wwFTgGTUuLe-f1-4oGS5CVpsUQCXvZjCL/s1600/Another+rose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSwlZab4k_R_-Ktb0tN0S1IakI1SUsDf1D-nWbLyadGWujHf_uKGOtGEfJjTVAZ64IndCOWe3jnNhSt6LtHsCWaOCrq20xWZLamUjaLuWw2T-wwFTgGTUuLe-f1-4oGS5CVpsUQCXvZjCL/s1600/Another+rose.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose - Doumerac</td></tr>
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Ever amazing, this world we live in... Technology IS Magic,<br />& today Ă la Johnny Nash:<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" style="direction: ltr;"></a><br />
<span style="color: magenta;">
</span><br />
<div id="ecxlyrics-body-text">
<div class="ecxverse">
<span style="color: magenta;"><i>I can see clearly now the rain is gone.<br />
I can see all the obstacles in my way.<br />
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind.<br />
It's gonna be a bright (bright) bright (bright) sunshinin' day.<br />
It's gonna be a bright (bright) bright (bright) sunshinin' day.</i></span></div>
</div>
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<br />
I will be in Paris October 20 - 26 doing Tarot readings, meeting up with Irish friends from Ireland Poetry Tour AND to see Niki de St. Phalle's show at the Grand Palais. Still some slots open for readings on the 25th - ramartin8@gmail.com.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCb_sIMkCpn6wckgHdq-hZOuJb-DW9Vg0-mJmMBV2ukwB71QWnlZtSVyRd6S3oduADOZ9HFnF9Ldo1shW2xPsA8sQkjHcfbl7tMqLV7iDtl2Zw1iMXI-ffRnwb3YBwwDX82co9vgTpaHUR/s1600/Ruthannedoll2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCb_sIMkCpn6wckgHdq-hZOuJb-DW9Vg0-mJmMBV2ukwB71QWnlZtSVyRd6S3oduADOZ9HFnF9Ldo1shW2xPsA8sQkjHcfbl7tMqLV7iDtl2Zw1iMXI-ffRnwb3YBwwDX82co9vgTpaHUR/s1600/Ruthannedoll2.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruthanne Doll - Made by Susan Andrews</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It says on the back: <i> <span style="color: orange;">Ruthanne, a real doll - her heart as big as the great outdoors</span></i><br />
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Susan gave me this doll sometime in 197? - I treasure it. It has gone around the world with me & Susan is still migrating too with her other Oiseaux Sister, Carolyn Fellman. Check out their amazing artwork and workshops: www.oiseauxsisters.com <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyxqc7sGoO1goKaF-3NasuuUloxgfSUHy0gPV23x-AEgQjzjpv6256hIR8cEN5gIIcS_BmxJuGcI-6Clyt6EaJXxDaWPVbsuxenzlWJ3Gq4Vcn0JASfJ1X3Td5ceXYvuWZT_hZSvsSxn6/s1600/Susan+Andrews.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyxqc7sGoO1goKaF-3NasuuUloxgfSUHy0gPV23x-AEgQjzjpv6256hIR8cEN5gIIcS_BmxJuGcI-6Clyt6EaJXxDaWPVbsuxenzlWJ3Gq4Vcn0JASfJ1X3Td5ceXYvuWZT_hZSvsSxn6/s1600/Susan+Andrews.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susan Andrews - Artist/Dollmaker</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc35AcQ_4U-P2v5jOLulBLBBHFJD0mzWyLz2IFk5MBJ8hyphenhyphenXwK4Rzt2nnjJ2xRbYYw91_ldtuwQJ0671UFRDUKtFcM-ten2EcuACyQVZribHgvwkZym-pWdO0F2pIKlbT8cuqninCiQ8Y_U/s1600/new_work.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc35AcQ_4U-P2v5jOLulBLBBHFJD0mzWyLz2IFk5MBJ8hyphenhyphenXwK4Rzt2nnjJ2xRbYYw91_ldtuwQJ0671UFRDUKtFcM-ten2EcuACyQVZribHgvwkZym-pWdO0F2pIKlbT8cuqninCiQ8Y_U/s1600/new_work.jpg" height="167" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From July 2014 Summer Retreat - Moravia, New York</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-44000236123993239502014-09-23T08:43:00.000-07:002014-09-24T08:43:50.003-07:00EQUINOX & Notre Anniversaire de Mariage<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">When I trace at my pleasure the winding to and fro of the heavenly bodies,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">I no longer touch the earth with my feet. I stand in the presence of Zeus himself</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><i>and take my fill of ambrosia.</i> Claudius Ptolemy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">30+ years, but who's counting? </span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhY0bZuNHfKAIcL2aiPI6RFUMZa3d9VFmTqDUftfULUGBFL7vCzXCrSxTmnXhe11qImaoBizA7SlHpX01zE97CPkFQLa89PlnYJkO7PEtYMMebvg5bv-o71ShioQt6_kWISq00YfjO20Yo/s1600/Wedding+Photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhY0bZuNHfKAIcL2aiPI6RFUMZa3d9VFmTqDUftfULUGBFL7vCzXCrSxTmnXhe11qImaoBizA7SlHpX01zE97CPkFQLa89PlnYJkO7PEtYMMebvg5bv-o71ShioQt6_kWISq00YfjO20Yo/s1600/Wedding+Photo.jpg" height="200" width="145" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kevin, Gregory & I</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOnMTU7jf64g4x6JeZmL6fdtibJ4GI39qn7R0kIgVXl2_nPGrP4orxd_hEu3TYiNXlCZCj9VD9h5j-17M4o65NE4P6aO1bsH5uqhIxgoic19OsZZ1kt6xSQgzoF-89uiTpVF2kwJHxmIKe/s1600/lovers+door+knocker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOnMTU7jf64g4x6JeZmL6fdtibJ4GI39qn7R0kIgVXl2_nPGrP4orxd_hEu3TYiNXlCZCj9VD9h5j-17M4o65NE4P6aO1bsH5uqhIxgoic19OsZZ1kt6xSQgzoF-89uiTpVF2kwJHxmIKe/s1600/lovers+door+knocker.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eugene Aget - The Lovers Doorknocker, Paris</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdupe7nQXOjeDr8dNiWmnYk-qMBV0BAawRFOEpyJmIBgi61d3X_PULx9Eg1P0BjpHUH_tghodPZn7wLd-aKjDFfUmo3fJ8S8mGqY6txEMVCWTn0OfOdcZsNnJOS3FJXPEOIyVNbv3qyxWI/s1600/the_lovers_marseille_camoin_jodorowsky_lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdupe7nQXOjeDr8dNiWmnYk-qMBV0BAawRFOEpyJmIBgi61d3X_PULx9Eg1P0BjpHUH_tghodPZn7wLd-aKjDFfUmo3fJ8S8mGqY6txEMVCWTn0OfOdcZsNnJOS3FJXPEOIyVNbv3qyxWI/s1600/the_lovers_marseille_camoin_jodorowsky_lg.jpg" height="200" width="106" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lovers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: orange;">The last of the bees are<br />out extracting the last of the pollen from the lavender in our tiny garden. <br />I will miss their industrious hum in the afternoons... </span><br />
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...and the last of the roses & their hips<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQ2O9JAwF1pOE4PvqDMlPn_J5AJMhoKrcFu0p_cK_2uIyA5sPQqFPM1gzIg5coZwdS-ivjnIS6Djf6KSTAJZfrONPZorQLATLwgAU_Nj2xMoAK2SfFexsN7fH5gkketo4rcP7XZNWvt-t/s1600/garden+rosehips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQ2O9JAwF1pOE4PvqDMlPn_J5AJMhoKrcFu0p_cK_2uIyA5sPQqFPM1gzIg5coZwdS-ivjnIS6Djf6KSTAJZfrONPZorQLATLwgAU_Nj2xMoAK2SfFexsN7fH5gkketo4rcP7XZNWvt-t/s1600/garden+rosehips.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosehips, Delphiniums, Tomatoes</td></tr>
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Feeling the snap of fall, classic chilly mornings - by midmorning, the bright sun warming us like a good claret, elongated afternoon shadows falling across the fields and roads. I'm still making rose hips tea and picking cherry tomatoes - we're like merry grasshoppers sipping the last days of summer; a premature fall, orchard apples falling on our heads.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBiVn3oBOaHS5RFDhk1QOe7oUKa9wSNJ3Ub1MrO5OiQdOFR2i-ss4wzDI7NmBoiepWxRpiJwyMZBETAiD1QV-DLTumxI7UxikBrHdQfEChucM27zJnOynBARndw6YrgyXNREVH0LJh6_r/s1600/Wedding+group+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBiVn3oBOaHS5RFDhk1QOe7oUKa9wSNJ3Ub1MrO5OiQdOFR2i-ss4wzDI7NmBoiepWxRpiJwyMZBETAiD1QV-DLTumxI7UxikBrHdQfEChucM27zJnOynBARndw6YrgyXNREVH0LJh6_r/s1600/Wedding+group+photo.jpg" height="256" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our wedding, Inverness, Ca. Richard & Francine's Garden</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #b4a7d6;">I see the fall colors of a California wedding in the photo, mauves
and dove greys, creams and beiges. The priest (gay he was) now long
departed, with his moustache and yellow flower. After he performed our
ceremony, he celebrated in a leather bar. I see our brothers, Mark
& Greg, big smiles in the photo. Our friend's garden in Inverness,
oh so long ago. And now those guests do seem like dreams, some of them
still arriving, others gone forever. And that September day the Gods were indeed
present, presiding over the ceremony, in the trees and in the music, the
wedding song sung by Elizabeth and Denise, the poems read, and the life
that unfurled in front of us. They were like the Medieval choristers
(thank you Ruffles) who made the garden sing with their harmonics; their
voices lifted in ethereal notes, pleasing all the Gods. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #b4a7d6;">I
pull my memory away from "nostalgia," acute homesickness, sentimental
longing, relocating it to my Memory Palace where love and affection have
eternal rooms to inhabit, infinite beds to lie in, to sleep and dream.
I think of how memory lives on in us, reseeding itself like the
gardens; to be borne again on Demeter's shoulders, with fresh hope, resting &
readying the ground for the next harvest of poetic dreams. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiorwFH0JQOMJpXvJhVOCEmdgISxw27YRT43MoL6Q-LOr0N4tcOPw-xrlT3Lj5mnbobDAokHeEZKxJiZaga2UZaGSN22ZZLZNQZ1NigMW5P20U6-4KIfNDonqXWcOlfIYc8BrbFDdqwYOy3/s1600/Memory-Palace-App-16x9-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiorwFH0JQOMJpXvJhVOCEmdgISxw27YRT43MoL6Q-LOr0N4tcOPw-xrlT3Lj5mnbobDAokHeEZKxJiZaga2UZaGSN22ZZLZNQZ1NigMW5P20U6-4KIfNDonqXWcOlfIYc8BrbFDdqwYOy3/s1600/Memory-Palace-App-16x9-1.jpg" height="223" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sky Arts Ignition: Memory Palace - a work of fiction by Author Hari Kunzru</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQqygiEm9umOtbhxsEJQU06ZEQlhZPvuTO-cMqUc5Ffa6m5-f9RdqLqHh08_XXyQIDaa9xS93yF5CZKq4S73ZdL25OCmEOJ1-rLCaBJ_P6mHZPxqrbxrRuun9stOWMH6LhdkCYHXpJNxO/s1600/Lampshade+Lovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXQqygiEm9umOtbhxsEJQU06ZEQlhZPvuTO-cMqUc5Ffa6m5-f9RdqLqHh08_XXyQIDaa9xS93yF5CZKq4S73ZdL25OCmEOJ1-rLCaBJ_P6mHZPxqrbxrRuun9stOWMH6LhdkCYHXpJNxO/s1600/Lampshade+Lovers.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mini Memory Palace - The Lovers Sandpainting*</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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* Sandpainting - gift from Kim Mott, Idaho Artist/Poet/Gardener/Dreamer<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: orange;"><i>You were once wild here. Don't let them tame you</i>.</span></span></span> Isadora Duncan</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span>Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-14323163044638487102014-08-31T09:53:00.000-07:002014-09-14T07:59:11.124-07:00THE GHOST MONTH, The Smell of Old Dust & The Fifth Chamber<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My Algerian friend, Annie, told me that the French call August the Ghost Month. I'd never heard that before, though I had heard of the Hungry Ghost Festivals: traditional Taoist and Buddhist festivals held in Asian countries on the 15th night of the seventh month (Chinese lunar-solar calendar) continuing on thru August till the 24th of the month. <br />
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Back in northern California, in the eighties and nineties during the height of spiritual, psychological, metaphysical explorations, there was a lot of hooha regarding <i>les fantÎmes affamés</i> (<i>the hungry ghosts)</i>. But it was meant in a pejorative sense, not the same hungry ghosts for whom the Buddhist/Taost rituals are being performed, i.e., burning incense, clothes offerings, vegetarian meals and even some bling laid out. People burn paper houses, cars, servants, televisions.(Wiki).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Detail of the Last Judgement Tympanum (1107 -1125)</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvuUDTKJu3wD5CsND11Gr0plDjlfpmr5ZkZ_oibyfZ7I35z7rnNph8yie1M1nQqEgm7C1V-5Xne2h6l6QXw2OUwgMZz84raFC3ii8MbMYj38niy7vRCKozjxnhWJ8OyjXuY9LSmvY8ToXI/s1600/heaven-or-hell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvuUDTKJu3wD5CsND11Gr0plDjlfpmr5ZkZ_oibyfZ7I35z7rnNph8yie1M1nQqEgm7C1V-5Xne2h6l6QXw2OUwgMZz84raFC3ii8MbMYj38niy7vRCKozjxnhWJ8OyjXuY9LSmvY8ToXI/s1600/heaven-or-hell.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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On the15th, when the gates of Heaven & Hell open up, the belief is that the deceased/ancestors will be out and about, visiting & rolling around the neighborhood. This is a chance to pay respects, venerate the dead, and say howdy to wandering ghosts or those you might have not had a chance to say goodbye to. The Buddhists also think of this time as a "rebirth" of ancestors. <br />
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Later in the month I asked some other French friends about "Ghost Month" in France and they rolled their eyes and said:<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"> <i>"Tout le monde</i></span><i> <span class="hps">est parti</span> <span class="hps">en vacances</span>, <span class="hps">prendre</span> <span class="hps">un</span> <span class="hps">coup d'oeil autour</span>, <span class="hps">la place</span> <span class="hps">est vide</span><span class="">." = </span></i><span class="">Everyone has left for the holidays, take a look around, the place is empty. Uh Duh, indeed, our big city of Angouleme was like a ghost town. </span></span><br />
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">I did have a rationale though, since our little Village of Charras was hopping. August is the busiest month of the season for holiday renters & owners who come and stay at the Chateau; oodles of kids lining the pool, filling the Parc with merriment, on vacation from England or Scotland or wherever else mortals escape from to go somewhere else warmer & sunnier, quieter or just plain different. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivKFH8EnsQX5pZRp8NVF5v1MsqNN3EBaJnJeMcQHx1S4BkQQM17Kd5FSnMd9ACCIUnVO_tXiW-RQ9pXHM_I1tE2mtqSVB1xxC-NDD1mdT0mwbre8Ts6WLhUdZlWNcybGAqq6QFiodOWbrV/s1600/Cessy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivKFH8EnsQX5pZRp8NVF5v1MsqNN3EBaJnJeMcQHx1S4BkQQM17Kd5FSnMd9ACCIUnVO_tXiW-RQ9pXHM_I1tE2mtqSVB1xxC-NDD1mdT0mwbre8Ts6WLhUdZlWNcybGAqq6QFiodOWbrV/s1600/Cessy.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cessy playing in front of main Chateau</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAYsvIi6N-Lud1hpyvhGUF1mKqw3_cdMRtZY8LCFLc9MR4_O8zxGA_dpmeD0MrjGqGRoQgPMAAUfX77I9iuWtogKZMzIVbPJu1xCvoL53x7eM8DdIMXNHWXX1rU_lD8KhumS81XQMZdksQ/s1600/lovers+strolling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAYsvIi6N-Lud1hpyvhGUF1mKqw3_cdMRtZY8LCFLc9MR4_O8zxGA_dpmeD0MrjGqGRoQgPMAAUfX77I9iuWtogKZMzIVbPJu1xCvoL53x7eM8DdIMXNHWXX1rU_lD8KhumS81XQMZdksQ/s1600/lovers+strolling.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strollers on the back lawn</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwuOkkAk_RwqF_4RdH-jXdYbM0upEdC52ekXoREzQq0fhjoZnKH87kWCMhuxHStZACyWWBQbcQVH9icSaIPxR0cm6OTjFO-Mxf25ClMxhK6ZuZbkPNOr9maR2sRa1TV8xYghdPkh7labX/s1600/cricket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwuOkkAk_RwqF_4RdH-jXdYbM0upEdC52ekXoREzQq0fhjoZnKH87kWCMhuxHStZACyWWBQbcQVH9icSaIPxR0cm6OTjFO-Mxf25ClMxhK6ZuZbkPNOr9maR2sRa1TV8xYghdPkh7labX/s1600/cricket.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cricket game in progress on back lawn</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">But even in the lemony sunshine, one could feel the presence of ghosts here & there. The fields were full of them. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2CABGMND1NS069SiRS_QOWiLzNSXUoMHhQpgxqvebnE-CEhyRoI8919nMEyNgtqsoXK4k9w9tEEQDno67M00RIm42i9IY_iHP7azNNEiCGsVlU6N87SVMN0CP9ZPqX5CkyePIWAYeVzp/s1600/ghostflower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2CABGMND1NS069SiRS_QOWiLzNSXUoMHhQpgxqvebnE-CEhyRoI8919nMEyNgtqsoXK4k9w9tEEQDno67M00RIm42i9IY_iHP7azNNEiCGsVlU6N87SVMN0CP9ZPqX5CkyePIWAYeVzp/s1600/ghostflower.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ghost Flower - Field in Feuillaude</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Sometimes I'd walk down a lonely passageway in an ancient building and feel surrounded by other presences, or visit an abandoned mansion like the French urban explorer, Bousure, certain I had seen a figure in a window. <i>"I like the mood of these places and the light inside." </i>Bousure.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWhr2XcGl3P9qICHf9lHzUaQrUvT2sjoMXqgOFifF09lMkeUE_4qIRkudVgtdcrxygA4C5qz9FDyRb-4cTdLim3mYGVejj7Mmgz5P11Qtp-WGJnceJvnI17AMP9u3KYK6h1UkAC9pDDGu/s1600/Ghosts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWhr2XcGl3P9qICHf9lHzUaQrUvT2sjoMXqgOFifF09lMkeUE_4qIRkudVgtdcrxygA4C5qz9FDyRb-4cTdLim3mYGVejj7Mmgz5P11Qtp-WGJnceJvnI17AMP9u3KYK6h1UkAC9pDDGu/s1600/Ghosts.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unknown photographer</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5txC4WdrPW6OeeMC5DPeu8uhU93Ikywig66CKNvvfDPu9WCU3pSEJfqe7iOznOchINTvDsUo77Fyb4-MABbajqTgdQQexOu1AA6YzCbcN9q2CQ4NaXKqDah5g_sRRa8_6mI93j0gqE15x/s1600/urbex-photography-ghost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5txC4WdrPW6OeeMC5DPeu8uhU93Ikywig66CKNvvfDPu9WCU3pSEJfqe7iOznOchINTvDsUo77Fyb4-MABbajqTgdQQexOu1AA6YzCbcN9q2CQ4NaXKqDah5g_sRRa8_6mI93j0gqE15x/s1600/urbex-photography-ghost.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">French Urban Explorer, Bousure</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Then Kevin set me off on a luxury, ghost hunting storm by sending me a link to the Parisian Belle Epoque Time Capsule below.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvgv-UE2bib7JefHf7SkY2edUFklhMnXNjzeeF3ynaTF57-V-eJq_3mIloLz4y_UbREohROrU4PgDEhibBHii33zxEMi1INQoVGq8UM9nGt50kBGmrkjnAIerA_pl5viw51z90Ai2q2Qo/s1600/The+Parisian+Belle+Epoque+Time+Capsule.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPvgv-UE2bib7JefHf7SkY2edUFklhMnXNjzeeF3ynaTF57-V-eJq_3mIloLz4y_UbREohROrU4PgDEhibBHii33zxEMi1INQoVGq8UM9nGt50kBGmrkjnAIerA_pl5viw51z90Ai2q2Qo/s1600/The+Parisian+Belle+Epoque+Time+Capsule.jpg" height="250" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Parisian Belle Epoque Time Capsule - 9th arr.</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">In 2010, a 91 year old woman, known only as, Madame de Florian, died in the South of France, leaving behind an apartment in Paris. Her family hired a team of auctioneers to visit the flat in the 9th arr., near the Pigalle red-light district and the Opera Garnier, to inventory its contents. When they unlocked the front door, they found it virtually untouched since before WW II. "There was the smell of old dust," recalled the auctioneer. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6jg-NVW7R96gU60XNNBpYJlweZ6ExI2fVK7uZ1CK72ZSrhkMqaIB0ea9Cwk8PXozwBQKXh8aF1dipR68YcjX4E4pElwcRyTYnh1pHaapsSwZhpt6fncEtlY-ixc7wae5M2jpIHMAd3Mf6/s1600/Perfume+bottles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6jg-NVW7R96gU60XNNBpYJlweZ6ExI2fVK7uZ1CK72ZSrhkMqaIB0ea9Cwk8PXozwBQKXh8aF1dipR68YcjX4E4pElwcRyTYnh1pHaapsSwZhpt6fncEtlY-ixc7wae5M2jpIHMAd3Mf6/s1600/Perfume+bottles.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfume bottles, cobwebs and silence</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Madame, 23 years old, had fled the city in 1942 as the Germans advanced, locking up the apartment she had inherited from her Grandmother. For 70 years she paid the rent and upkeep on the home without ever returning. Beneath the dust the investigators found themselves transported to early 1900's Paris at the height of the Belle Epoque when de Florian's grandmother was the talk of the town. Born in 1864, she was a certain breed of courtesan known as <i>les demimondaines</i>, famous for lavish lifestyles, parties and lots of high profile suitors. The apartment was filled with art, gold drapes, chandeliers, a stuffed ostrich draped with a shawl, hairbrushes, perfumes and candle stubs. One of the experts said it was like "stumbling into the Castle of Sleeping Beauty." </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8TUER1EwcYCmakvRudg_v3kKaBnDFF8mxvxYRylXQBmowIcorbmKUKLyTRdQ6k7SWBbfLiPhprjoRhVNuKfAPlW1OQN_Ra2YTbDuVXXhFHUAQQodkSV6OkpqEceEQTOP75cWkCImz38p/s1600/ostrich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8TUER1EwcYCmakvRudg_v3kKaBnDFF8mxvxYRylXQBmowIcorbmKUKLyTRdQ6k7SWBbfLiPhprjoRhVNuKfAPlW1OQN_Ra2YTbDuVXXhFHUAQQodkSV6OkpqEceEQTOP75cWkCImz38p/s1600/ostrich.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Screenshot MessyNessy</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">There were love letters from Prime Minister George Clemenceau, and a heretofore unknown painting by Giovanni Boldini of 24 year old, Marthe de Florian, the apartment owner's grandmother. It was discovered that she was Boldini's muse and lover. The painting ultimately sold for 2.1 million after a bidding war. The location of Marthe de Florian's apartment remains a mystery, as does her granddaughter's true identity. But, somewhere in the 9th arrondissement, a dusty flat missing a fine Boldini painting may still remain frozen-in-time." from</span></span><span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class=""> The Daily Beast.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjS8LIjvQc25LyE5uSstdCxrBlJqWpXayeabZstexpI6hdQHrmF-6lLq17pDwYaTYA1X4enFkUsAHKIVLyXuVFTX8trsYd9BDRXlahVNV_CWJHCtroZrA_wF49F6UeRfSloHZyAICQp1m2/s1600/de+Florian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjS8LIjvQc25LyE5uSstdCxrBlJqWpXayeabZstexpI6hdQHrmF-6lLq17pDwYaTYA1X4enFkUsAHKIVLyXuVFTX8trsYd9BDRXlahVNV_CWJHCtroZrA_wF49F6UeRfSloHZyAICQp1m2/s1600/de+Florian.jpg" height="320" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marthe de Florian - Painting Boldini</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">She IS pretty in pink! If I get to Paris in October, I vow to find her apartment. </span></span><br />
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Sigh...back to the reality of Tarot and our own village ghosts. Yesterday I was invited to read the cards at the Javerlhac Marche Artisnale not far from Charras. I've always loved the village, it's on the Bandiat River and has a cracking tower and manor house, which looks like they have some of their own dust and mystery. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibhUpvDQIgBONU8LqmgJ2jLJ9e1nWFNQ8K-EU8nJFC2YxYIZkkSz3EJbEB7RqTdSDTCGRRlNQ3lBwjlnE9fp7pmuiX79k9WqhBHDkBpcCefh5DTgVok-S-D1_KTe71iHwxarZDscXT1E4x/s1600/330px-Bandiat_Javerlhac_pont_aval_(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibhUpvDQIgBONU8LqmgJ2jLJ9e1nWFNQ8K-EU8nJFC2YxYIZkkSz3EJbEB7RqTdSDTCGRRlNQ3lBwjlnE9fp7pmuiX79k9WqhBHDkBpcCefh5DTgVok-S-D1_KTe71iHwxarZDscXT1E4x/s1600/330px-Bandiat_Javerlhac_pont_aval_(2).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Javerlhac-et-la-Chapelle-Saint-Robert - Bandiat River</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6lhll4fhBf641WcrLoycZIgQ-7buMnNt_cRj4bcYZ2oOJ8CYsqzOVlYwcdzWvQkpVlHCmj-EU63-tD2dcKbzvyCAxae0_5CvA7I5LTihJLBgZQ9tl2lIwn0rrYAnlyuT9ip8a6PKTcaZI/s1600/Javerlhac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6lhll4fhBf641WcrLoycZIgQ-7buMnNt_cRj4bcYZ2oOJ8CYsqzOVlYwcdzWvQkpVlHCmj-EU63-tD2dcKbzvyCAxae0_5CvA7I5LTihJLBgZQ9tl2lIwn0rrYAnlyuT9ip8a6PKTcaZI/s1600/Javerlhac.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Javerlhac Tower</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWOnfxfL38OvbwyWbHdc04KnHCQXVU0C1qimH98aR9x16rYi4-tPibUVSY4yBnXIkwksEHABnxt8ijSX-xjmlv_uY7U271gCQ7qGRcmpyRgHlsn7gSyix6R6XMlFi_0N8H5lP2ELuwohoJ/s1600/Javerlhac_manoir_Logis.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWOnfxfL38OvbwyWbHdc04KnHCQXVU0C1qimH98aR9x16rYi4-tPibUVSY4yBnXIkwksEHABnxt8ijSX-xjmlv_uY7U271gCQ7qGRcmpyRgHlsn7gSyix6R6XMlFi_0N8H5lP2ELuwohoJ/s1600/Javerlhac_manoir_Logis.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Manoir</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">And it turned out to be the one sympathetic weather day we had in August. The organizers did a gorgeous job - a smooth band playing, homemade ice cream and high quality artisan goods. I spent most of the money I made by the end of the day, no regrets. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTa3fOYTFsWh_a-EgT3axLOy0lGqHc66FMSgKdOblp6_LoixhzLtXV3-PK-aY_QdV5mJb-mAbhWg3sn5RElIzDhKrPeQxfaArsh6IYwLPW2gP_QlZjIf15z_B6CGPRY8YggktZz2FxbpM/s1600/Javerlhacband.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTa3fOYTFsWh_a-EgT3axLOy0lGqHc66FMSgKdOblp6_LoixhzLtXV3-PK-aY_QdV5mJb-mAbhWg3sn5RElIzDhKrPeQxfaArsh6IYwLPW2gP_QlZjIf15z_B6CGPRY8YggktZz2FxbpM/s1600/Javerlhacband.jpg" height="261" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jazz Band - Javerlhac</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">I did twenty readings over the course of the day, half of them for les Francais, none of whom spoke a word of English. It was challenging, not so much for the grammar or comprehension of what they were asking, but rather the cultural/psychological differences & how we perceive emotional frameworks; how we talk about relationships and health and career. One French man wanted me to advise him about his accounting business, whether he should expand to Bordeaux and Paris from Javerlhac and the environs? He demanded that I unilaterally make that decision for him! He's coming for a private reading next week, and I am cramming as much technical French & Gallic sensibilities into myself as I can. It's a lot of pressure - usually the French just ask about love and there IS a universal language for that. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Lls2N5v__w0LSsMrlNPDbXt9QCDVOHOtQ0PKeTIXmHh451ZRMt1ifsn-SXbEvCAblRNWHB6e4ejJUv4DOIuk5WypmgXikxQ8bAaIPj2SO19uGyblqTt3XTyngylBZvo_XMq5dSj_VvRt/s1600/Marie-Claire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Lls2N5v__w0LSsMrlNPDbXt9QCDVOHOtQ0PKeTIXmHh451ZRMt1ifsn-SXbEvCAblRNWHB6e4ejJUv4DOIuk5WypmgXikxQ8bAaIPj2SO19uGyblqTt3XTyngylBZvo_XMq5dSj_VvRt/s1600/Marie-Claire.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marie-Claire + Fish + Dog</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">My favorite reading of the day was for Madame Marie-Claire, 90 years old, the most serene, gentile french woman, with an aura of light around her that splashed us all with joy. Her daughter bought the reading for her. She had had 7 children, three of them adopted. Her question: Would her grandchildren find happiness? Bien Sur! You can see she pulled La Poisson et Le Chien from the Lenromand</span></span> Revolution deck (<b>Carrie Paris/Roz Foster Lenormandrevolution.com</b>). You can also see I've purloined one of Carrie's magical card images for my Tarot Table. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzS8JelsiUf8WiznKut94vtohwdgCsTbuYyfV1bgKD7TURlKeN2JcYijBDnGXeVZb1d-E3B163Kk3GjCjA6QVY1gB6WZWOlCGrAZ7YTXQ_ETCswGHogCOXwxfH_uecl-h8ZvM_bHr8RxJ3/s1600/Me+&+marieClaire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzS8JelsiUf8WiznKut94vtohwdgCsTbuYyfV1bgKD7TURlKeN2JcYijBDnGXeVZb1d-E3B163Kk3GjCjA6QVY1gB6WZWOlCGrAZ7YTXQ_ETCswGHogCOXwxfH_uecl-h8ZvM_bHr8RxJ3/s1600/Me+&+marieClaire.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me & Marie-Claire - Salle de Fetes Javerlhac</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">I love the stories of people's lives, the patterns, the bravery, the way they let me into their most cherished and secret chambers. I am always humbled by the openness and the willingness to embrace the symbols & ancient wisdom that leap from the cards. I used <b>Ellen Lorenzi-Prince's Dark Goddess* (darkgoddesstarot.com) </b>deck</span></span><span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class=""> for the one card readings. I don't get much call for those, but when I do, the cards are perfect because they provide immediate entry points, along with an emotional template to work with. Profound, punchy imagery like Nine of Water - Lady of the Lake, <i>Make a wish, Take a vow.</i></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAUdXVOfTsk9jVdizvlEf42Knw-Gr2-l6XTLnaRV5QBsgVpfmnx9dj9gQaka0asyNWdTahI1C91bK7QaJr4idMaLNVxy6kElp1-D0CAky-NZgn-N7I3pAmU1jt-4sW6Ne8ql_ClHx_vBc/s1600/Lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLAUdXVOfTsk9jVdizvlEf42Knw-Gr2-l6XTLnaRV5QBsgVpfmnx9dj9gQaka0asyNWdTahI1C91bK7QaJr4idMaLNVxy6kElp1-D0CAky-NZgn-N7I3pAmU1jt-4sW6Ne8ql_ClHx_vBc/s1600/Lady.jpg" height="200" width="108" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dark Goddess Tarot</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Tarot de St. Croix</i></td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">This time I brought a third deck, created by my roommate from Italy Tarot Tour**,<b> Lisa de St. Croix - Tarot de St. Croix - http://lisadestcroix.blogspot.fr/ </b>This deck is close to my heart too since I sat next to Lisa in Tuscany and Ferrara as she painted some of the cards. Her deck with its vivid, rich colors and timeless quality does indeed, "<i>transcend time to portray the tapestry of life.</i>" The Wheel of Fortune card came up twice in readings yesterday. </span></span><br />
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">But it wasn't all sweetness and light. The Ghost of Loss was upon us on this bright day in the month of August even as fish were bringing abundance, dogs loyalty and Wheels of Fortune turning. There were also some very hungry ghosts wishing to be fed. And haven't we all been starving at times? </span></span><br />
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">So many querents had lost partners, lovers and friends. And two friends had lost their dogs: Adieu Donner, Adieu Rupert. I talked with them about opening a Fifth Chamber in their hearts where the Beloved could reside for all time. </span></span><br />
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class=""><span style="color: orange;"><i>In our time there are certain changes taking place in the heart, by which gradually a fifth chamber will develop. In this fifth chamber man will have a new organ which will allow him to control life forces in a different way than is possible at the moment...All that happens in the moral life, and all that happens physically in the world...the moral and the physical...are found in their real union when we learn to understand all he configurations of the human heart.</i> </span> Rudolf Steiner</span></span><br />
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">And as it turns out, honey bees already have this fifth chamber. Aren't they clever? Maybe if we develop a Fifth Chamber we can make honey too.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><br /><i>"One of the hurdles in developing a five chambered heart in humanty
is that our powers as human beings would be spiritually and morally
altered. Our connection to the living forces of nature, as the Bees
experience the living forces of nature, would plug us into our own
feelings of LIFE and Etheric life and the critical psychological,
emotional and karmic health of our fellow human beings and the poisoning
effects we have inflicted into nature due to our sterile emotional,
intellectual distance we maintain, as the safe guard to our freedom to
think in whichever way we please about anything. Even if the way we
think about nature and the human heart is a grotesque error of education
and judgment."</i></span><br />
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Rileybrad.wordpress.com</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixGUxWqT4st1MTSkVRV_3nEjHwEU6MVXMaOaUmopfOAA2Ya7H3y5LWP3RwCd-nKSPrIjX0sEUicwRMqZiIYdkpLH-EJXN0MYKjYwmcNCctUL7Frh3pkvZHKK80dL-Pd6wUFdzFUNP6fzjE/s1600/fifth-chamber-of-the-heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixGUxWqT4st1MTSkVRV_3nEjHwEU6MVXMaOaUmopfOAA2Ya7H3y5LWP3RwCd-nKSPrIjX0sEUicwRMqZiIYdkpLH-EJXN0MYKjYwmcNCctUL7Frh3pkvZHKK80dL-Pd6wUFdzFUNP6fzjE/s1600/fifth-chamber-of-the-heart.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rileybrad Blog - The Fifth Chamber Heart</td></tr>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">"Bee Boy" Born with Bee Heart</span></span></div>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Russian baby Vanya Maryin was </span></span></div>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">born with a five chambered heart,</span></span></div>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">a structure only found in bees. Oddly</span></span></div>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">enough, little Vanya comes from a</span></span></div>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">family of bee-keepers. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFeZq-Q5LgIBIlxRR7m8Cw1KugjMyhgVYTTZtnUuIUmCpSn1oZ_zb49HUOGWG_APRcigiyeaMjniaWQg8NJWMt7fvvyA-tx8S-9wFouKnnxzq1ZxIthgY4fYIlah6NSTinY8sJe0WAn_ar/s1600/Vanya+Marilyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFeZq-Q5LgIBIlxRR7m8Cw1KugjMyhgVYTTZtnUuIUmCpSn1oZ_zb49HUOGWG_APRcigiyeaMjniaWQg8NJWMt7fvvyA-tx8S-9wFouKnnxzq1ZxIthgY4fYIlah6NSTinY8sJe0WAn_ar/s1600/Vanya+Marilyn.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vanya Maryin - Bee Boy</td></tr>
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<b><span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Last Night as I was Sleeping</span></span></b></div>
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<b><span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">"...</span></span>I dreamtâmarvelous error!â
<br />that I had a beehive
<br />here inside my heart.
<br />And the golden bees
<br />were making white combs
<br />and sweet honey
<br />from my old failures,,,</b></div>
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Antonio Machado </div>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">See New York Times, August 20th, the excellent piece by Jessa Crispin in the Opinionator Private Lives Essays, <i><b>The Tarot Card Reader</b></i>. (thanks Rosita!)</span></span><br />
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">*You can now pre-order Ellen's Minoan Tarot deck, site designed and maintained by Arnell Ando http://www.darkgoddesstarot.com/minoan-order.htm</span></span><br />
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">**Tarot Art & History Tour of Italy with Arnell Ando and Friends - upcoming tour 2015 - www.arnellart.com</span></span>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class=""><br /></span></span>Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-50585970432524923492014-08-17T03:26:00.000-07:002017-03-04T04:54:54.132-08:00THE SANGLIER JUMPED OVER THE MOON, Les Abat-Jours & yet more Angels<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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...and the Hare did too, but as you can see, the Goose flew...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwEstVkyhjkv3siQNrZ8flbSx8Lx-mf4NGNOpaqW4ly7_JcwyUZZ3O_2nl7vR8sUFK292-DvZugnv71KIeGfBIgn-VSNhzhwc2iRZR67RkwTm1DCQo5ZoOxAgBzaZcnaKAssntIgrepuzP/s1600/Sanglier+over+the+moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwEstVkyhjkv3siQNrZ8flbSx8Lx-mf4NGNOpaqW4ly7_JcwyUZZ3O_2nl7vR8sUFK292-DvZugnv71KIeGfBIgn-VSNhzhwc2iRZR67RkwTm1DCQo5ZoOxAgBzaZcnaKAssntIgrepuzP/s1600/Sanglier+over+the+moon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jodie Tucker - Expo - Chateau Saint Catherine - Montbron</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlLEaZTI4CIWk1c4eUw2hODvZs3-YyFLdIJ_NuMYQgZ23ILP6Z1QP9zYXU-nJI1FKRMaLyvh9B08xkh7nYTYiMjVzsKPVYZDNMEQa7XSoLIU5FpgFBBJlIp8-tQEj_5s5l-coz1tXFuDFn/s1600/Jodie+Tucker+expo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlLEaZTI4CIWk1c4eUw2hODvZs3-YyFLdIJ_NuMYQgZ23ILP6Z1QP9zYXU-nJI1FKRMaLyvh9B08xkh7nYTYiMjVzsKPVYZDNMEQa7XSoLIU5FpgFBBJlIp8-tQEj_5s5l-coz1tXFuDFn/s1600/Jodie+Tucker+expo.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lamps, Plants, Cushions, Screens, Fabric</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_nKvi-3xAU99kZadWlzpQGAdFeCvJby_db4se1j9wVAY5GlXsn-kje454btgbK3Va0ZiwXETcauxAliZZ_03YiIE1VGLZHlwE19z30VWuBwN_1AnqwZ-T7fC_1ZV_41ATJErYj6kZ7DKW/s1600/Back+view+of+gallery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_nKvi-3xAU99kZadWlzpQGAdFeCvJby_db4se1j9wVAY5GlXsn-kje454btgbK3Va0ZiwXETcauxAliZZ_03YiIE1VGLZHlwE19z30VWuBwN_1AnqwZ-T7fC_1ZV_41ATJErYj6kZ7DKW/s1600/Back+view+of+gallery.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back view of La Galerie</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZ-UAP_lSlqnSE_kuFyTMcu25Bm09nSC7-attt6GXgTQx5xFnIiYfzMGSW0Tw_sUHkZpLN5KIaSN8aDXriCA3-ETt1PJc13hRKvgYTgSijmsajZ1GX-mAw9aGCY7fW0TiwQsnB_kFfbEa/s1600/gallery+floral+painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZ-UAP_lSlqnSE_kuFyTMcu25Bm09nSC7-attt6GXgTQx5xFnIiYfzMGSW0Tw_sUHkZpLN5KIaSN8aDXriCA3-ETt1PJc13hRKvgYTgSijmsajZ1GX-mAw9aGCY7fW0TiwQsnB_kFfbEa/s1600/gallery+floral+painting.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Large Floral Painting</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQa6A1TG-COvSGcOd0Qr0u8Cs6eqDrihn_OoyJLrfC013a0DDJTsLSnMtuiJg31RzSHuGomCAnEtxcLHntqgoeLZKw2XG-eaA4YrAL6qO8pJYQ-QR0gnBmXvRuQdIPhMNu4JxAijG3kLRR/s1600/Jodie+gallery2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQa6A1TG-COvSGcOd0Qr0u8Cs6eqDrihn_OoyJLrfC013a0DDJTsLSnMtuiJg31RzSHuGomCAnEtxcLHntqgoeLZKw2XG-eaA4YrAL6qO8pJYQ-QR0gnBmXvRuQdIPhMNu4JxAijG3kLRR/s1600/Jodie+gallery2.jpg" width="219" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jodie Tucker, Bermudian Artist*</td></tr>
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Jodie Tucker, resident artist at Chateau Sainte Catherine, has transformed La Galerie into a "Fantasie Salon" for her current one woman show, which runs till end of August.<br />
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Interspersed with the paintings are hand painted screens, lampshades, cushions and fabric. Her creations also include prints and cards taken from her original designs. My photos do not do the show justice. Come see for yourself!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2tYlVS7wc4trtBo6y4T7wZpqdRMxMQP7P2L4Tn3qxJMredVFKZT4hAXEPnGDHp4XTISZLv8GlZ9P5ugVMC28OgFu_x8wAC0tyF-uiTzLxEMJLbi2V0vUN-HYV4JKtJuIMRfYgdb54YYn/s1600/gallery+mannequin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2tYlVS7wc4trtBo6y4T7wZpqdRMxMQP7P2L4Tn3qxJMredVFKZT4hAXEPnGDHp4XTISZLv8GlZ9P5ugVMC28OgFu_x8wAC0tyF-uiTzLxEMJLbi2V0vUN-HYV4JKtJuIMRfYgdb54YYn/s1600/gallery+mannequin.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-E-GOLvjQwuDT8XMqxKIZXqEzfmSvh7t-ukfiAVXtBAZ4MS3ncFZpK1UJSXVwm36bYZV-P0og9qqvmaMgky96I5nQm5Bs17kKkOitte_CRKbtUDgkh3L2xSNRYaoUNGsPFjxr2dmcImc/s1600/front+view+of+gallery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-E-GOLvjQwuDT8XMqxKIZXqEzfmSvh7t-ukfiAVXtBAZ4MS3ncFZpK1UJSXVwm36bYZV-P0og9qqvmaMgky96I5nQm5Bs17kKkOitte_CRKbtUDgkh3L2xSNRYaoUNGsPFjxr2dmcImc/s1600/front+view+of+gallery.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Detail Large Floral</td></tr>
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The salon-like atmosphere is enhanced by the gorgeous bamboo and floral arrangements installed by Christophe from Parc Colonial** (see below, info for visiting the Parc) </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxqa-ws_HgWCwFcg6KDTyvXyKOSz0efIRIrumIJWbvH5WMrJgJeD448LLadh709hkv9yquBJLQxMvjJ0Tc9hJMylnGb51X0C216k9gzTL-XZ1TG7NVJLuVd6vji_emHcsVpn6pGtFukeu/s1600/christoff3-1+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxqa-ws_HgWCwFcg6KDTyvXyKOSz0efIRIrumIJWbvH5WMrJgJeD448LLadh709hkv9yquBJLQxMvjJ0Tc9hJMylnGb51X0C216k9gzTL-XZ1TG7NVJLuVd6vji_emHcsVpn6pGtFukeu/s1600/christoff3-1+(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christophe - Parc Colonial** Photo by Jodie Tucker</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Galerie Sainte Catherine - On the route to Montbron</td></tr>
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LES ABAT-JOURS (The Lampshades)</div>
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In July, Jodie held a lampshade making course in her garden at Charras. It was a magical day - I took a few photos; les abat-jours were everywhere, growing from trees and springing from the ground & beneath people's hands. </div>
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If you are "turned on" or "lit up" by the idea of making your own lampshade, there's a second chance on August 22nd. Jodie will be offering another course in her atelier at Chateau Sainte Catherine.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jodie Tucker Atelier - Chateau Sainte Catherine</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The day will begin at 10 a.m. with a welcome tea or coffee and homemade biscuits, followed by a demonstration by Jodie. You will select your material and 2 - 3 hours later, you have created your own bespoke 12" lampshade. The price of this course is 40 euros per person and is limited to 6 people, all materials are included. Please contact the chateau on 05 45 23 60 03 or Email: chateau.st.catherine@free.fr</span></span></span></span></div>
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You can also visit the website at www.chateausaintecatherine.com</div>
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<span style="color: #e69138;">Below is the lampshade Jodie made for my last Gemini Birthday. She used my photo from the series I have been working on (inspired by Angela Voss and Carrie Paris), "The Secret Life of Statues." </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e69138;">The photo in front of the books is of my mother as a young girl. I've been trying to bring her back into my soul in a new way...my mother staring out into the moment, not knowing what lay ahead, not seeing the 4 somebodies growing inside her - the seeds and sway of her life - a mystery yet to unfold. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">ABCEDARIAN POEM ON ANGELS</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><br />Angels DO exist!<br />believe me, I know, I <br />can see one standing in the<br />doorway right now; this is not an<br />existential<br />flight of fancy, I swear it is a <br />genuine card carrying<br />heart-beating angel, and if <br />I can see it, so can you.<br />John O' Donohue said we are all<br />knocking on Heaven's Door, even when the<br />lights are out and the<br />moon is hiding behind the clouds.<br />Nothing can stop<br />our Guardian angel from<br />protecting us,<br />quietly, while<br />rearranging the furniture so we don't trip on the<br />stairway to Heaven,<br />tucking us in at night<br />under a sky studded with starry cousins<br />visible to anyone<br />willing to look hard enough to see their<br />xylem and their<br />yearning to save us from ourselves,<br />Zany as this all might sound.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"> RA Martin</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Jodie Tucker Exhibition</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">*You can see more of Jodie's work on her website: http://www.jetucker.co.uk/</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial";">* *PARC COLONIAL DE CHARRAS in Grosbot is now open on Wed. and Sunday afternoons for tea and tour of the gardens and purchase of plants. There will also be Open Days in the garden on September 6th and 7th. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christophe in Bamboo Forest - Parc Colonial </td></tr>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-41485881442053451152014-08-10T08:24:00.000-07:002014-08-12T08:20:03.170-07:00COLLABORATING WITH THE UNKNOWN - A Field of Bunnies dancing on the head of a pin.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBliYk0sUHOtJHxpmUbChGFfTuR2IMduFZLS7XnhxN6sDAx9L0w21kX_AY7o78aaOvvUta-jZRlmADs8ZmUqob6gxeRHuup9NkNamxaF06nimVnbTyK1KZzLSYkDSCK9Bf3_Xgw6uVK5i6/s1600/Derek-Kinzett-1+girl+on+blue+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBliYk0sUHOtJHxpmUbChGFfTuR2IMduFZLS7XnhxN6sDAx9L0w21kX_AY7o78aaOvvUta-jZRlmADs8ZmUqob6gxeRHuup9NkNamxaF06nimVnbTyK1KZzLSYkDSCK9Bf3_Xgw6uVK5i6/s1600/Derek-Kinzett-1+girl+on+blue+bike.jpg" height="280" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Derek Kinzett - Chicken Wire Sculpture - Inner Spirit Collection</td></tr>
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<i>We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.</i> Marcel Proust<br />
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I'd been watching the corn grow and the sunflowers do their thing while the summer got stranger and stranger. I felt like Alice wandering in circles inside a box. I made the mistake of looking too often at a computer monitor instead of thru a Looking Glass. And found myself staring at wildfires and planes falling from the sky; listening to the interminable Obama bashing; Wall Street's Bulls/Bears charging & growling, and a plethora of kidnappings followed by more Drone attacks.<br />
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In France the little sweet that comes along with an espresso disappeared overnight, as if every bistro and cafe had suddenly called for a cookie embargo.<br />
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Three tarot events in a row were cancelled due to rain, rain, rain...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pluie Pluie Pluie - Chateau de Charras</td></tr>
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<b><i>Then I found a lump on my neck</i>:</b> OOPS &?!^+ @#$%^!&*. I began shrinking rapidly until my shoulders were nowhere to be found. I felt suspended between Yesterday and Tomorrow, while Today ceased to exist. All my consternation about the world...all my big talk about "living in the present". I just wanted to go back in time: pre-lump, when I was complaining about the lack of cookies and the crap weather.<br />
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It finally stopped raining for a nano-second, so I jumped on Antennae II, my trusty bike, and took off on the path between confusion and conviction - the road less traveled - which is so easy to find in rural France. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMuSJsgaeFZsvSn6_Ya97twDhlLDMZ5xhsl7FgokfUk9Do7O2rMee9DcfUQF9cVca5G3uj9Qdt_P1_k6mZOz0Qd7Uh1QVKVUJBOQeK2Ty729TVaxvuIGDOdbIHgUcWvgvB-MzQNTjdC1A/s1600/Antennae+II.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMuSJsgaeFZsvSn6_Ya97twDhlLDMZ5xhsl7FgokfUk9Do7O2rMee9DcfUQF9cVca5G3uj9Qdt_P1_k6mZOz0Qd7Uh1QVKVUJBOQeK2Ty729TVaxvuIGDOdbIHgUcWvgvB-MzQNTjdC1A/s1600/Antennae+II.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way to Les Graulges</td></tr>
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I spun-pedaled past hectares of cornfields, sunflowers & chickens studiously pecking away behind chicken wire enclosures, Jacquie's photogenic duck in his cozy hand-hewn kingdom <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacquie's Duck</td></tr>
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All the chicken wire reminded me of these photos I came across of Parisian artist Benedetto Bufalino's repurposed 1970's police car, turned into a fully functioning chicken coop (La Voiture de Police Poulailler). The only difference between cops & coops is one little "o".<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHfCYtIayNUrfkbN6IRW-BGQDvsZ3LdU8CSLbIR4qCoyTSpYGB1SULJr6e8fwaa0YQc88LM7kvioJ63psFscKHCOCj40dLxeOM66C8xpt-euGnoLfkoNro1LcxvKuTfpf-fct2OcoB-8D/s1600/benedetto-bufalino-repurposes-a-police-car-as-a-chicken-coop-2-600x399.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHfCYtIayNUrfkbN6IRW-BGQDvsZ3LdU8CSLbIR4qCoyTSpYGB1SULJr6e8fwaa0YQc88LM7kvioJ63psFscKHCOCj40dLxeOM66C8xpt-euGnoLfkoNro1LcxvKuTfpf-fct2OcoB-8D/s1600/benedetto-bufalino-repurposes-a-police-car-as-a-chicken-coop-2-600x399.jpg" height="132" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Benedetto Bufalino</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
The joke here is that the French call cops "les poules" (chickens). A little less derogatory than our American "pigs", but still...<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6g5eslCdbn5ag2xg3B2BR10I7g3fx3-V1T7Sh6Xz0F5rw3lwHskMtQfHlYhWf6dGqi3F17D0SPF56HBmP9lnlpeS4zFqgnU1HQCO3yl22fXPxluA-p9E0GOxPtejGP51ZEXUoFN-kjXu/s1600/benedetto-bufalino-repurposes-a-police-car-as-a-chicken-coop-designboom-07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6g5eslCdbn5ag2xg3B2BR10I7g3fx3-V1T7Sh6Xz0F5rw3lwHskMtQfHlYhWf6dGqi3F17D0SPF56HBmP9lnlpeS4zFqgnU1HQCO3yl22fXPxluA-p9E0GOxPtejGP51ZEXUoFN-kjXu/s1600/benedetto-bufalino-repurposes-a-police-car-as-a-chicken-coop-designboom-07.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luxury digs for Les Poules</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
A queue of curious cows reminded me of another piece from Stephanie Marlis's "Fine":<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPIhNDsVZtF6fxp6KeK4FrQBZHtg6hGy52gIauqObETiJnHLgpMPuDbs5UKtQGeWk7i7Z5aYdeanhwZ_Z3ak22sBM0adKOuHO3UqF_QHHSRhDp3rg6wKbbzfl2SREIL1vT9SzDOhZVw54/s1600/Curious-cows-6819b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPIhNDsVZtF6fxp6KeK4FrQBZHtg6hGy52gIauqObETiJnHLgpMPuDbs5UKtQGeWk7i7Z5aYdeanhwZ_Z3ak22sBM0adKOuHO3UqF_QHHSRhDp3rg6wKbbzfl2SREIL1vT9SzDOhZVw54/s1600/Curious-cows-6819b.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Country Cows</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Queue</b> - <i>a line of waiting people or vehicles,
from the Old French cue, tail - and what about polymory? You have your
string of hearts albeit stretched out over time. And hasn't each
preceding love, bright or faint, enriched the next? Is Pluto any less
dear now that we know it's not a single planet but simply the largest of
sixty-odd ice and rock cometlike objects? </i>- Stephanie Marlis<i><br /></i><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwSPVsLHcLtHAA5uQRZCMtHCmqF8OdgJwCSkEO951NYSBVDznB5zOexA_M3dDITb682l-qJSIM9xePxlnIuQ66k1av9o2WCEODtbQ6YS3TF0p5Y0hssqh2DxrniNLj42hT7lxZwLKK5Tq/s1600/Kinzett+bicyclist+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwSPVsLHcLtHAA5uQRZCMtHCmqF8OdgJwCSkEO951NYSBVDznB5zOexA_M3dDITb682l-qJSIM9xePxlnIuQ66k1av9o2WCEODtbQ6YS3TF0p5Y0hssqh2DxrniNLj42hT7lxZwLKK5Tq/s1600/Kinzett+bicyclist+(2).jpg" height="251" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Derek Kinzett - Chicken Wire Sculpture</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I kept pedaling deeper into the paysage, across les champs, down overgrown forestry roads, the ones that are posted<span style="font-family: Arial;">:</span><span id="ID0EQ"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><b> </b></span></span><span id="ID0EQ"><b><span class="fiche_mot_libelle_mot_definition">Chasse Gardée</span></b><span class="fiche_mot_libelle_mot_definition"> - private hunting ground. But I'm not hunting for mushrooms or sanglier; I'm hunting for the world beyond human control, the invisible world. <i>I thought maybe if I kept shrinking like Alice or became transparent like these ghostly Kinzett sculptures I could slip thru the veil...</i></span></span><br />
<span id="ID0EQ"><span class="fiche_mot_libelle_mot_definition"><i> </i></span> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><b><span style="font-size: 18px;"></span></b></span><br />
I'm searching for answers to questions raised by Thomas Aquinas's riff in "Summa Theologica" like "how many angels are dancing on the heads of pins?" Perhaps there are simply no answers to settle those kinds of thorny "double theory" debates, the ones that masticate and circle endlessly around faith & reason. And what kind of dance? Hip hop, ballet, tango, polka, waltz? And what size are the angels? Are they ethnically diverse?<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><i>My faith<br />
is a great weight<br />
hung on a small wire,<br />
as doth the spider<br />
hang her baby on a thin web,<br />
as doth the vine,<br />
twiggy and wooden,<br />
hold up grapes<br />
like eyeballs,<br />
as many <b>angels</b></i>
</span><i><span style="color: orange;"><b>dance on the head of a pin</b>. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Anne Sexton</div>
<br />
The thing I like about the angel/head/pin debate is that Aquinas wasn't questioning the existence of angels. Delving a little deeper into dusty archives, I found out it wasn't even a pin they were dancing on. It was a "needle." In 1648 William Chillingworth wrote of clergymen disputing, "Whether a million of angels may not sit upon a needle's point,â which in turn may refer to Swester Katrei's, fourteenth century German mystical work, in which a character observes, "doctors declare that in heaven a thousand angels can stand on the point of a needle." Dance, sit, stand, needle, pin? Tell that to the poets - Ouch!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy8a52iVW7m6tki7MitzlAvsMW5FF5H2P5qnRboABFAFkvidP9SlGNaVwdtX2YOQu_Dm7b-SiDJXjLVBl07uXPX_a4vxr4fL0bCMXEg-A231AGaHRSzr1HArnv-utyWGf0WDsSwl-9um4s/s1600/angel+pin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy8a52iVW7m6tki7MitzlAvsMW5FF5H2P5qnRboABFAFkvidP9SlGNaVwdtX2YOQu_Dm7b-SiDJXjLVBl07uXPX_a4vxr4fL0bCMXEg-A231AGaHRSzr1HArnv-utyWGf0WDsSwl-9um4s/s1600/angel+pin.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Count the Angels</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A Birmingham man, Graham Short, carved the Lord's Prayer onto the head of a pin. If a human being can do that, imagine what an angel could do if she (or he) put some toe shoes on?<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4NATulaZlsU11EFGKrUehGVxbSq-lRBkltYmEaxZyxZAupsNtsRNxG8PixXVWDEpEoi53b4INKQZijfMk0j4IiF4nmrVfFVnOihTq1AvemPzAgyUvpmBlCdi0vl_KUI5xXKaSKGSO8b4e/s1600/Lord's+prayer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4NATulaZlsU11EFGKrUehGVxbSq-lRBkltYmEaxZyxZAupsNtsRNxG8PixXVWDEpEoi53b4INKQZijfMk0j4IiF4nmrVfFVnOihTq1AvemPzAgyUvpmBlCdi0vl_KUI5xXKaSKGSO8b4e/s1600/Lord's+prayer.jpg" height="304" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Graham Short's Lord's Prayer Engraving - MailOnline</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We'll get to the bottom of this later. <br />
<br />
After approximately 12 kilometres, I wound my way into Les Graulges, a commune (population 80), with a Romanesque church (of course), a Maire, and a telephone booth.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxhTMupMmUpLf2FNygNwCcn2QSr2sn526GSGA6JRHzopPRoDVW5zT8tdiLfZT-qYOjElp8pkbPTLrqt89oqGj0TXW1Oku6bucIWYiJzAnstDdNE0ViGtYnb9yjOBDGpwWBdHX7rSBgIG_w/s1600/Telephone+Booth+Les+Graulges.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxhTMupMmUpLf2FNygNwCcn2QSr2sn526GSGA6JRHzopPRoDVW5zT8tdiLfZT-qYOjElp8pkbPTLrqt89oqGj0TXW1Oku6bucIWYiJzAnstDdNE0ViGtYnb9yjOBDGpwWBdHX7rSBgIG_w/s1600/Telephone+Booth+Les+Graulges.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working Phone Booth - Les Graulges</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I couldn't imagine it worked, although it was a mere 6 or 7 years ago when Kev & I immigrated to France, and we were still using phone cards in these booths, now an anachronism. I gingerly picked up the receiver & found mold growing under it, but then I dialed les "poules" and <span class="ellipsis_text" dir="ltr" id="0_LST" lang="1036"><span class="hghlt" id="highlightedText">huppé! it worked. Of course it does, because most of the older French who populate these communes and villages do not have cell phones. </span></span><br />
<span class="ellipsis_text" dir="ltr" id="0_LST" lang="1036"><span class="hghlt" id="highlightedText"><br /></span></span>
<span class="ellipsis_text" dir="ltr" id="0_LST" lang="1036"><span class="hghlt" id="highlightedText">Les Graulgians best be en garde - Since 2007 Buffalino and lighting designer Benoit Deseille have been turning these booths into Aquariums in places like Biarritz, France and Gent, Belgium.</span></span><br />
<span class="ellipsis_text" dir="ltr" id="0_LST" lang="1036"><span class="hghlt" id="highlightedText"></span></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdl-RXKFQY7P43g6DrOz4IBiOyWxuE_-CxGu2G2WVHc46cP4xNwWB4w7a8EomQDeOixXygEa3EOYKqMNREH9JjiaZAXo88tAaXnw5fL_ForbMFXbt7aGQvjh1euAmZmqZXk9yOLc1DTODo/s1600/benedetto-bufalino-phone-booth-aquarium-designboom01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdl-RXKFQY7P43g6DrOz4IBiOyWxuE_-CxGu2G2WVHc46cP4xNwWB4w7a8EomQDeOixXygEa3EOYKqMNREH9JjiaZAXo88tAaXnw5fL_ForbMFXbt7aGQvjh1euAmZmqZXk9yOLc1DTODo/s1600/benedetto-bufalino-phone-booth-aquarium-designboom01.jpg" height="149" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evasion Urbaine - Bufalino, Deseille</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3WcmEGCBs07oE5q99VBWugxS6ibDoIP5csLeELbhOx9MjFJagl1vgjqZPA4hHpg2wmVN4362rjiACe3HfVw5G5yt9LzWiZ9hBid1Vj5rnaAgscWWuUpSzG97-saI9F3D0rae51kMg1ln/s1600/fish+tank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3WcmEGCBs07oE5q99VBWugxS6ibDoIP5csLeELbhOx9MjFJagl1vgjqZPA4hHpg2wmVN4362rjiACe3HfVw5G5yt9LzWiZ9hBid1Vj5rnaAgscWWuUpSzG97-saI9F3D0rae51kMg1ln/s1600/fish+tank.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aquarium Booth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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What if you wanted to call Jacques Cousteau? I guess he's not under water anymore, perhaps in the clouds dancing on the head of a pin?<br />
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<br />
But there's more to Les Graulges then first meets the eye. A narrow road flanked with poplar trees and high stone walls beckons. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyZ4eW77nGuGtoHknZxalAHjrD1BlkTySIknSJ3Bcy6o4JOXDbAxbmaM0hN30CF64vD5I7eZPjnbE6s-xBdjNhyqGvGl6DxMRRCGiZ46NDqgAxtZeHIhq4DfnQiMHRq8mJiSTzN2Dugtj5/s1600/Bicycle+Grosbot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyZ4eW77nGuGtoHknZxalAHjrD1BlkTySIknSJ3Bcy6o4JOXDbAxbmaM0hN30CF64vD5I7eZPjnbE6s-xBdjNhyqGvGl6DxMRRCGiZ46NDqgAxtZeHIhq4DfnQiMHRq8mJiSTzN2Dugtj5/s1600/Bicycle+Grosbot.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Antennae II chills while I investigate</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The road leads to the river Lizonne, bordering the southern end of Les Graulges & a community garden, a chair to sit in. There are caves and campgrounds.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMz68TyMbId4_fs7g1UFt6xlCymg6aaN0wHVqCRMNl4j1DmRDyivZlzz6C9oTrsfA-WJ3Lw6UlKCZurvzYvLH4-x9MWTvXiJI3_cYH5UfIDU_nky8f7vckQJHqqv95Lzm-aXp0VkFDkZ8/s1600/Secret+Garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMz68TyMbId4_fs7g1UFt6xlCymg6aaN0wHVqCRMNl4j1DmRDyivZlzz6C9oTrsfA-WJ3Lw6UlKCZurvzYvLH4-x9MWTvXiJI3_cYH5UfIDU_nky8f7vckQJHqqv95Lzm-aXp0VkFDkZ8/s1600/Secret+Garden.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66pN6YzFaRFQtWi95hf5nakFXEEJtDnsdo0_seLT6iGJx9o5zQiBwXlEoO82lPps9szGRxmVK-2N-CVyGqHxvV0SVXjd_GMWn3BJD0QBT9n6x2QCfXpSuH2D6S6YALoL5Owswv0s90r5F/s1600/Les+Graulges+Camping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66pN6YzFaRFQtWi95hf5nakFXEEJtDnsdo0_seLT6iGJx9o5zQiBwXlEoO82lPps9szGRxmVK-2N-CVyGqHxvV0SVXjd_GMWn3BJD0QBT9n6x2QCfXpSuH2D6S6YALoL5Owswv0s90r5F/s1600/Les+Graulges+Camping.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Les Graulges - Cave</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's not easy to get to the river, but I find a way to slip thru a fence and crawl down to the bank.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha95zE6obLARxdYVo2wH4dBmBX5zyF2hHcpWhxwcZvv0YUEXdXzc7wgtFSbpBd_cn5PLdc5q76w2kRXxXpjqrBSM0fkzSWD9Xo-9UiZMGjHQTlYt1uGWq6rigxN6YvnfUd_LriO69ZYB92/s1600/Les+Graulges+Woodland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha95zE6obLARxdYVo2wH4dBmBX5zyF2hHcpWhxwcZvv0YUEXdXzc7wgtFSbpBd_cn5PLdc5q76w2kRXxXpjqrBSM0fkzSWD9Xo-9UiZMGjHQTlYt1uGWq6rigxN6YvnfUd_LriO69ZYB92/s1600/Les+Graulges+Woodland.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Les Graulges - Lizonne River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsSntYaEhiYdaMvK8WaWpHxnsSnBi9Up4dW8keJnbdPo7jSTd9bdWAuMF7eIQjAJ4DwfQULlQ3Rbb4UGPhrxUSfHTmmvefgGEG3MH3hhyphenhyphenSpU-PDEqpIcHUA2KLZDbBlXqFoPKIS4vxQ2z/s1600/Kinzett+fairy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsSntYaEhiYdaMvK8WaWpHxnsSnBi9Up4dW8keJnbdPo7jSTd9bdWAuMF7eIQjAJ4DwfQULlQ3Rbb4UGPhrxUSfHTmmvefgGEG3MH3hhyphenhyphenSpU-PDEqpIcHUA2KLZDbBlXqFoPKIS4vxQ2z/s1600/Kinzett+fairy.jpg" height="200" width="151" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Derek Kinzett - Faerie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
A sense of reverence slips in here with the riffling river music and the soft breeze nuzzling the willows and the leaves. Recently, I was listening to some passages from priest/poet John O'Donohue's <i>Celtic Wisdom </i>collection, and I'm happy to report that he believed in angels, especially the guardian kind - said we've all been assigned our very own. He also said that instead of seeking out the supernatural or flapping about in search of the ecstatic/exotic, we'd be better off looking for the divine in the ordinary.<br />
<br />
It's not as though magic doesn't exist- we tarot practitioners are big on magic - but maybe sometimes what we think of as magic is simply awareness and attention. It's funny how important these distinctions have become since the "lump" showed up. Turning from the desire to escape or get "high", now seeing what is in front of me creates an expansive & holy space. My heart is not exiled. I feel a sense of belonging within this cathedral of nature. Annie Dillard says it so well in her poem based on Vincent Van Gogh's letters: <span style="color: orange;">"I Am Trying to Get at Something Utterly Heart-Broken"<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;"> <span style="color: #eeeeee;">- A few passages below:</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">At the end of the road is a small cottage,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">and over it all the blue sky.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">I am trying to get at something utterly heart-broken.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">The flying birds, the smoking chimneys,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">and that figure loitering below in the yard--</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">If we do not learn from this, then from what shall we learn?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">A patch of brown heath through which a white</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Path leads, and sky just delicately tinged,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Yet somewhat passionately brushed.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">We who try our best to live, why do we not live more?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">The branches of poplars and willows rigid like wire.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">It may be true that there is no God here,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">But there must be one not far off...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">...What I want is more beautiful huts far away on the heath.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">If we are tired, isn't it because</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">We have already walked a long way? ...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">A ploughed field with clods of violet earth;</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Over all a yellow sky with a yellow sun.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">So there is every moment something that moves one intensely...</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">I love so much, so very much, the effect</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Of yellow leaves against green trunks.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">This is not a thing that I have sought,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">But it has come across my path and I have seized it.</span></div>
<br />
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="color: black;"> <span style="color: white;"> - Annie Dillard</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">And so I too have seized this moment to look around me. Into the marvelous I've ridden and discovered cultural treasures in a quiet little commune. Paul Woodruff says in his book, "Renewing a Forgotten Virtue": </span> </span></span><br />
<br />
<i>"You need not believe in God to be reverent, but to develop an
occasion for reverence you must share a culture with others, and this
must support a degree of ceremony." </i> Reverence in classical Greek society then
motivated the populous to act rightly and be humble to improve society.
<i>"We feel awe for what we believe is above us all as human beings, and
this feeling helps us to avoid treating other human beings with
contempt."</i><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwYPrnc6-R53O21Fxv9_5NWlAy5xDAPM9BwKUR0VUhGF9inkCEjzj4swUw4NQ9PsPkB47nynGtRtWlajdx5MVPxnsEmkT14i2r4Ob92Fy7kLWXXdjTt7PTjLPUSVh0lB7Rk9BBR66nD6I/s1600/Ed+Ruscha+Rabbit+1986+Lithograph+on+paper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwYPrnc6-R53O21Fxv9_5NWlAy5xDAPM9BwKUR0VUhGF9inkCEjzj4swUw4NQ9PsPkB47nynGtRtWlajdx5MVPxnsEmkT14i2r4Ob92Fy7kLWXXdjTt7PTjLPUSVh0lB7Rk9BBR66nD6I/s1600/Ed+Ruscha+Rabbit+1986+Lithograph+on+paper.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ed Ruscha Rabbit - 1986</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But what about those "bunnies" I promised you?? When I first pedaled down the narrow road with the stone walls I saw a rabbit dashing into a large hole right in front of my eyes. Off to my left, in a large field, several pairs of ears flashed by. But at twilight as I headed home I looked again and the same field was chock full of bunnies. At first I thought maybe they were domesticated (you know like the lapins they sell in the markets). But I could see they were wild and there were no fences. I jammed to get my camera going & set up a shot, but as soon as I zeroed in they leaped & scattered into the undergrowth as rabbits will do, so I only captured a few stragglers,...I swear there were dozens, though I know it sounds like a fish tale. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8BgOcsc63ZI6x7lFjfbI7ONkDSVrWizqHDsMawaWWt99iNgKDcRcNCGiF-SKsgnKy_9RsSiDhVocpd03l93IR3x8zLmZSQiaQj7dkPlUA0T9Em2Z27wlcTUctMn7J9USU72Jw4ahPX7CW/s1600/A+Field+of+Bunnies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8BgOcsc63ZI6x7lFjfbI7ONkDSVrWizqHDsMawaWWt99iNgKDcRcNCGiF-SKsgnKy_9RsSiDhVocpd03l93IR3x8zLmZSQiaQj7dkPlUA0T9Em2Z27wlcTUctMn7J9USU72Jw4ahPX7CW/s1600/A+Field+of+Bunnies.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Les Graulges field - Three Slow Bunnies</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZIpG7BiCwuRyW_OzPWAvVjuUBtvNBfhwa4jWLrHhG7PTc4hsIhdJ4pavxbG8_h0G6B1PU98ET_eT5_Ec9DN9kRkZ71xchI8Bb-X4tDdwIGFzqSA0Cssd-pfVHoIqn2P43idyi3Z3Klw-Z/s1600/Rabbit+from+Temptation+of+Eve+stained+Glass+Ely+Cathedral.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZIpG7BiCwuRyW_OzPWAvVjuUBtvNBfhwa4jWLrHhG7PTc4hsIhdJ4pavxbG8_h0G6B1PU98ET_eT5_Ec9DN9kRkZ71xchI8Bb-X4tDdwIGFzqSA0Cssd-pfVHoIqn2P43idyi3Z3Klw-Z/s1600/Rabbit+from+Temptation+of+Eve+stained+Glass+Ely+Cathedral.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Temptation of Eve - Ely Cathedral, Cambridgeshire, England</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6XQrh-BtlyFjeUH8YiqR6brJKuaebYueL8oA5mEZFilIiPLuL1_uknX5lE2MqJIa0yjGpS-2g9xVCkKKLrwwMv2WwHIhu9wQbPZ1RSTGv6L6orOt-5px4c6UrDTi9iiHn1a0bI_Hms033/s1600/too-many-bunnies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6XQrh-BtlyFjeUH8YiqR6brJKuaebYueL8oA5mEZFilIiPLuL1_uknX5lE2MqJIa0yjGpS-2g9xVCkKKLrwwMv2WwHIhu9wQbPZ1RSTGv6L6orOt-5px4c6UrDTi9iiHn1a0bI_Hms033/s1600/too-many-bunnies.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is how it really looked</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjVLBPRSbZFnHAVknVw7vkruw7UaU2rDiFvf-p96vQvmEIyqKVEVHWuj67mm-CcAgdfNDap1XjcZ0cEnUdEIUR4CwQ4j-66ZpLFx_uMj7pKFM7Wwzt_hdeEPWZPyuK0vZSHeRm7VwZKO0/s1600/Mary+Baxter+Rabbit+wire+sculpture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjVLBPRSbZFnHAVknVw7vkruw7UaU2rDiFvf-p96vQvmEIyqKVEVHWuj67mm-CcAgdfNDap1XjcZ0cEnUdEIUR4CwQ4j-66ZpLFx_uMj7pKFM7Wwzt_hdeEPWZPyuK0vZSHeRm7VwZKO0/s1600/Mary+Baxter+Rabbit+wire+sculpture.jpg" height="136" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Baxter - Wire Rabbit Sculpture</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But then it was time to leave the river, the caves, the bunnies, the gardens, the church & the community of Les Graulges. Next week in the Open Pavilion where they have held Foires for almost a hundred years, there will be an Indonesian night - Ikan balls, Gado Gado, and fried bananas. I'll come back for that & bring some friends to share a meal and watch the angels dancing with the bunnies in the lush green fields. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnbCkSn1_u8aBQWEMcjDALfuGw7Dw0NzQpr91LaNCSMI9meLkW-QSPO-p8ZrZGSVa-qFKVa5G4Ji59NslWcu0e_WRvk7j9Cfz0GsmFLmBYinLia7Xk4B0F475r9_bgyCbeO5p7hgpiSmT/s1600/Sunflowrers+Grosbot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDnbCkSn1_u8aBQWEMcjDALfuGw7Dw0NzQpr91LaNCSMI9meLkW-QSPO-p8ZrZGSVa-qFKVa5G4Ji59NslWcu0e_WRvk7j9Cfz0GsmFLmBYinLia7Xk4B0F475r9_bgyCbeO5p7hgpiSmT/s1600/Sunflowrers+Grosbot.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">End of Day, Leaving Les Graulges</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTbj9ypqHRv7gLy4rWEoYOQUObis6cX5UV3IGYuJEYKv2WiCyjuIglFwtLjdWw93_ZFDYvb_5VlU61mwe0BRNeb4Uwnqu22Ek2fBX8cmDZKYPxwKxazp5HscMy8zHml_z1RDJSH9Ct68v/s1600/Grosbot+gravestones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTbj9ypqHRv7gLy4rWEoYOQUObis6cX5UV3IGYuJEYKv2WiCyjuIglFwtLjdWw93_ZFDYvb_5VlU61mwe0BRNeb4Uwnqu22Ek2fBX8cmDZKYPxwKxazp5HscMy8zHml_z1RDJSH9Ct68v/s1600/Grosbot+gravestones.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Les Graulges <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">CimetiĂšre</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> A TRUE STORY</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">When I was a child</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I lived in a chicken coop</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">in a cornfield in Illinois</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">with my mother, father,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">two brothers and "dog".</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I hated the smells and how</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">the feathers floated up my nose,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">and the way the ceiling</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">hit my Dad's head</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">whenever he stood up straight.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">And if anyone was looking for me</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I hid in the slaughter room</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">behind the chickens</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">and read and read and read.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">And here I am now</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">living among old stones</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">in rural France</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">eating roasted chickens from the market</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">and reading and reading and reading</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #6fa8dc;">Tarot. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbP6bmhImxAU7x-gGqjj73bjHN8MSD1Z1qI98CUQ0C1yPQVeA37Dx8cUsiwJ3Z-ZQ2A5R23Dzh1_VuQiHWs8bSuVSofKwlDCU456OJawKiYKjJKB4YRw9pQEsOp0RMWt8KNJ3VErz58xxA/s1600/Lenormand+tableau+Denny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbP6bmhImxAU7x-gGqjj73bjHN8MSD1Z1qI98CUQ0C1yPQVeA37Dx8cUsiwJ3Z-ZQ2A5R23Dzh1_VuQiHWs8bSuVSofKwlDCU456OJawKiYKjJKB4YRw9pQEsOp0RMWt8KNJ3VErz58xxA/s1600/Lenormand+tableau+Denny.jpg" height="176" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heart+Child+Sun - Lenormand Revolution- Carrie Paris & Roz Foster</td></tr>
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<br />
Don't forget the SuperMoon tonight. It should be a doozy!<br />
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<br />
<b>Bonus Section</b> for those who want to conduct a scientific experiment to see how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. This experiment comes courtesy of Orange Julius at Everything2.com.<br />
<br />
What was once just a rhetorical illustration to demonstrate the futility of out of the touch theological debates is now an exciting scientific experiment you can conduct in your very own home.<br />
<br />
What you will need: <br />
<br />
Pencil & paper<br />
One Pin<br />
A large number of Angels<br />
<i>Note: Seraphim and Cherubim </i><br />
<i>most desirable, but almost any angels</i><br />
<i>will do. The garden Anaheim variety of</i><br />
<i>angel should be avoided. </i><br />
One copy of "The Song that Doesn't End"<br />
(Extended Version.)<br />
<br />
Instructions: Insert the pin upright into a sturdy surface such as a pin cushion or a Styrofoam block. Begin playing the song that doesn't end and instruct the angels to step onto the pin and begin dancing. Count each angel, stopping only when no more angels can dance on the pin, and remembering to make sure that all the angels are dancing on the pin and not just hovering above it, so as to avoid a potential source of error. Repeat several times, removing all angels from the pin after each trial. From these trials determine the average number of angels that can dance on the head of a pin.<br />
<br />
Additional Exercises:<br />
<br />
Procure a copy of Maurice <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">Duruflé's,</span></span> "Ubi Cantas et Amor" and repeat the experiment. Discuss the effect that music religious in nature has on your results. <br />
<br />
Does the type of dancing affect the number of angels who can dance? Experiment with such dancing styles as the Foxtrot, the Electric Slide and the Clueless Male Arm Flail.<br />
<br />
Discuss possible sources of error, such as pin imbalance, drunken angels who keep falling off the pin's head, or angels who won't dance if they don't know the song. <br />
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-69036532956915762442014-07-14T07:00:00.000-07:002014-07-16T12:01:41.648-07:00 BASTILLE DAY - FĂȘte nationale - Le Quatorze Juillet <br />
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<b>FRANCE BANS ALL GMO CORN - </b>Le Connexion, June 2014 - Vive La France!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Msp9NuxCsOjjFM2hWtRbtnMx-KWKBMBHRgX9uNWUAoykIJcNGPn_oAA5ROKZ3Rntsuh29OZOm2Vk_FcwhP6erH8GySP6DuDmHdPdDOW0JTqIevQopWHXYZaTraGoAtmZgEIdVhMidOT-/s1600/Sunflower+in+corn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Msp9NuxCsOjjFM2hWtRbtnMx-KWKBMBHRgX9uNWUAoykIJcNGPn_oAA5ROKZ3Rntsuh29OZOm2Vk_FcwhP6erH8GySP6DuDmHdPdDOW0JTqIevQopWHXYZaTraGoAtmZgEIdVhMidOT-/s1600/Sunflower+in+corn.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corn & Sunflowers - Charras, Fr.</td></tr>
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This year the farmers planted loads of corn & wheat across from sunflowers, adjacent to sunflowers. Some of the sunflowers <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">échappé (escaped), hiding in the corn and wheatfields. </span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">And here is my friend, Madame S. from Le Pontillou. We are looking for two of her chickens who also "escaped". I asked her if she thought her chickens were as stupid as most people say, & she said: "</span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">Mais non!</span> <span class="hps">ils savent qui</span> <span class="hps">les nourrit."</span><span class=""> (But no! they know who feeds them) Ahhh, If only we humanoids were as intelligent. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madame S</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moth on Clover</td></tr>
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class=""><br /></span></span></span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr">We have such grand designs - an apron full of plans...how fine to be a moth simply extracting some nectar from a clover plant. <span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class=""></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">How to Be Happy</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Another Memo to Myself</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">You start with your own body</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">then move outward, but not too far.</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Never try to please a city, for example.</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Nor will the easy intimacy </span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">in small towns ever satisfy that need</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">you have only whispered in the dark.</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">A woman is a beginning.</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">She need not be pretty, but must know</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">how to make her own ceilings</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">out of all that is beautiful in her.</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Together you must love to exchange</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">gifts in the night, and agree</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">on the superfluity of ribbons,</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">the fine violence of breaking out</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">of yourselves. No matter,</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">it's doubtful she will be enough for you,</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">or you for her. You must have friends</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">of both sexes. When you get together</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">you must feel everyone has brought </span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">his fierce privacy with him </span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">and is ready to share it.</span></span></span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class=""> Prepare</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">yourself though to keep something back;</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">there's a center in you </span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">you are simply a comedian</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">without. Beyond this, it's advisable</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">to have a skill. Learn how to make </span></span></span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">something;</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">food, a shoe box, a good day.</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Remember, finally, there are few pleasures</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">that aren't as local as your fingertips.</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">Never go to Europe for a cathedral.</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">In large groups, create a corner</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="">in the middle of the room.</span></span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class=""> Stephen Dunn </span></span></span></span></div>
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class=""><br /></span></span></span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class=""></span></span></span></span>Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-65772211652546964132014-07-12T15:39:00.000-07:002014-07-13T15:51:33.427-07:00THE CRUCIBLE OF MEMORY - Gesture to the Infinite & A Chagallian Moon<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Uy5oJF68e3Vtr7YNtkMftVwa4UHOZVrtMMRY1jYMrJdeTeVrf_bEbrML3n4oyNYznQ7nMZdoOIq4Rm7vqjipt5-rkuffmNRXZ3st4OMeefjClrt2JdhOTawiVv4ZgX5QXLxeP4iUa5wK/s1600/Plastic+Woods+figure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Uy5oJF68e3Vtr7YNtkMftVwa4UHOZVrtMMRY1jYMrJdeTeVrf_bEbrML3n4oyNYznQ7nMZdoOIq4Rm7vqjipt5-rkuffmNRXZ3st4OMeefjClrt2JdhOTawiVv4ZgX5QXLxeP4iUa5wK/s1600/Plastic+Woods+figure.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">ChampignonniĂšre (Mushroom bed) from D M I spectacles - Michala Marcus, Odille Pellissier, Charente, Fr.</span></span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCYfBGsLwjLdy2pdNQaFRLZiAGs2itlyFp_W0UKtSpp6fMwIvhcOZaoeOHkltg77oBqP5wOdssoRo07GcSE3x-mzPZ8zPjc_fRl5Kzdu3_mmRNgFVY1N6KSrz1ZNvf_EKejJY81VJL2ZGM/s1600/Rauzet+Violet2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCYfBGsLwjLdy2pdNQaFRLZiAGs2itlyFp_W0UKtSpp6fMwIvhcOZaoeOHkltg77oBqP5wOdssoRo07GcSE3x-mzPZ8zPjc_fRl5Kzdu3_mmRNgFVY1N6KSrz1ZNvf_EKejJY81VJL2ZGM/s1600/Rauzet+Violet2.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGpWWBUPYQJwoZLslvmW8F-usPwEVpkliU1eao8SrQSZuFN9Nuu0fMzIoikwRlizn1yvxbe5qfgEObTAjgd-q4ycKNYPPUYYozqTCFimtgP7xTtVN52kZAQXyU2nDTyeJxUa3G1JIAQidJ/s1600/Rauzet+Green3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGpWWBUPYQJwoZLslvmW8F-usPwEVpkliU1eao8SrQSZuFN9Nuu0fMzIoikwRlizn1yvxbe5qfgEObTAjgd-q4ycKNYPPUYYozqTCFimtgP7xTtVN52kZAQXyU2nDTyeJxUa3G1JIAQidJ/s1600/Rauzet+Green3.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Vidéodanse - Eglise de Rauzet*</span></span></td></tr>
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ALERT: Tonight, another full MOON - it always brings a <span class="gt-card-ttl-txt" style="direction: ltr;">soupçon</span> of madness...<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">"I am out to induce a psychic shock into my painting, one that is always <br />motivated by pictorial reasoning, that is to say a fourth dimension." - <span style="color: black;"> <span style="color: orange;">Marc Chagall</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUlX8-H5vEgYKKitRbFV4h399KxWwk6cnMwojt31Qtxo8zF88OTcp1XkBIBhRzyS9o9wL6OWBiG2Q4uLcNdysTy3KoihbomqJiesT-0ozV8JESJAPjengQVlO5_e12zDIHvu3-CUkKATc/s1600/marc_chagall-painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzUlX8-H5vEgYKKitRbFV4h399KxWwk6cnMwojt31Qtxo8zF88OTcp1XkBIBhRzyS9o9wL6OWBiG2Q4uLcNdysTy3KoihbomqJiesT-0ozV8JESJAPjengQVlO5_e12zDIHvu3-CUkKATc/s1600/marc_chagall-painting.jpg" height="275" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Waters of Life" - Painting by Marc Chagall</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_BFuErR5_7JnnMbr5-0jQxoCZTsaWTEDHcAeZXMPkirFtNAzNoDYlm2XArWEuunQ5x1i9rAkcBraLVq5VHhsQ4vdk8BOobtnxxGY-6HfEkXjhb2aDm7MYANb0-RMD41wnV9dG_xJd6xS/s1600/MarcChagall+thumbnail+moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_BFuErR5_7JnnMbr5-0jQxoCZTsaWTEDHcAeZXMPkirFtNAzNoDYlm2XArWEuunQ5x1i9rAkcBraLVq5VHhsQ4vdk8BOobtnxxGY-6HfEkXjhb2aDm7MYANb0-RMD41wnV9dG_xJd6xS/s1600/MarcChagall+thumbnail+moon.jpg" height="320" width="229" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marc Chagall</td></tr>
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<i>"Most people consider Marc Chagall a painter. He was in fact a human transistor. His brush on the canvas completed a circuit that began in his soul, traveled through a mysterious cobalt otherworld, zigged across his mind and zagged into our reality plane. The unusual frequency Chagall tuned in is timeless. His floating farmers, loving brides, flying fish, fiddle playing goats and vignettes of shtetl life long ago cover the mind like a nighttime January snowfall - quietly...steadily...gently."</i> - Jaime Martorano, Photographer, Digital Artist - Triphoney.com<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">He Had a Lifelong Taste for Flying</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"> ...figures</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">more often lovers than beggars</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">sometimes peasants: here a woman</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">floats in the night sky above a Russian town,</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">head and body myseriously separate.</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">A workman falls through a fractured sky</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">dangles below a parachute that looks</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">like a handkerchief folded into a triangle.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">Angels, fishes, goats and rabbis,</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">but it's Bella I return to, Bella of the flowers</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">who lifted his feet and bent him backwards</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">for a kiss; Bella, who rose above the picnic</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">like a balloon, and almost flew away for joy</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">as if the bird in his hand had given her its heart,</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">As if her heart was the bird in his hand.</span></div>
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Penelope Cline, The Wild Green Chagallian Tarot </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwT_5SFJwVs74BvHR2C3DYFVGBksV0xPagiszvI-cnuWFd84HGkP1NdkgiHDLdoK4s0hbPM7j5zTCvh-M5k7Tvza_OGkPNoeNwwvulHSw1sJTddMlYTKS8lYwr20iceCokcGHMDbmv-rP/s1600/The+Moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwT_5SFJwVs74BvHR2C3DYFVGBksV0xPagiszvI-cnuWFd84HGkP1NdkgiHDLdoK4s0hbPM7j5zTCvh-M5k7Tvza_OGkPNoeNwwvulHSw1sJTddMlYTKS8lYwr20iceCokcGHMDbmv-rP/s1600/The+Moon.jpg" height="320" width="205" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Moon, The Wild Green Chagallian Tarot</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">A dear friend sent me this lyrical tarot deck by Penelope Cline, who used the whimsical figures of Marc Chagall for inspiration. Twenty-two major arcana cards painted in gouache on heavy watercolor paper. "Poetry in Paint"<span style="color: #b4a7d6;"> </span></span><span style="color: #b4a7d6;">-<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"> www.figtreepress.co.uk</span></span><br />
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I've laid the cards out under a moon beam. The Perigee moon in July is also known as the Buck Moon & Thunder Moon. Young male deer will be sprouting their antlers as the first of three visible supermoons makes its appearance in 2014.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUS3fX2JxlOf2bckqCEdXrDz4jLuj95EQn5d7iPHP5Fw4vz2_nFSj1vhyvreWp128J2RjGYu9FsRkvYKTnUp8XZTQ2JD1dMCFYcZfEHpLmL17jUrKP3z6Z2dxufiDOvvJ1FuY6b9zuuewS/s1600/Mark+San+Rafael.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUS3fX2JxlOf2bckqCEdXrDz4jLuj95EQn5d7iPHP5Fw4vz2_nFSj1vhyvreWp128J2RjGYu9FsRkvYKTnUp8XZTQ2JD1dMCFYcZfEHpLmL17jUrKP3z6Z2dxufiDOvvJ1FuY6b9zuuewS/s1600/Mark+San+Rafael.jpg" height="246" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My brother Mark - San Rafael, Ca.</td></tr>
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Meanwhile, back in California, digging with a pick and shovel through his storage unit - amidst the six chess sets and 35,000 books - my brother found this Polaroid photo of Kev & I on the Sonoma Train, circa 1985. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42aH6i_GRJXlPmLieznd7WGjlvJ8N6RDQIIrkBG7X9IjtiOaD7ZjnRVVoYJW2-G7gmQNHJAOWPKdjP5h5xHmO9a5Ru6AwhJJqJ5C4usc6rbibiH6TvDTOIVVi-rbidF6-pC6k7F1yn068/s1600/Kev+&+Rudy+in+their+youth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42aH6i_GRJXlPmLieznd7WGjlvJ8N6RDQIIrkBG7X9IjtiOaD7ZjnRVVoYJW2-G7gmQNHJAOWPKdjP5h5xHmO9a5Ru6AwhJJqJ5C4usc6rbibiH6TvDTOIVVi-rbidF6-pC6k7F1yn068/s1600/Kev+&+Rudy+in+their+youth.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a><span style="color: #b4a7d6;">We seem improbably young. We had just bought our first home in Forest Knolls, on the edge of Papermill Creek. We had to beg, borrow - stopping short of stealing - to get our foot through the door of California real estate. We were taking a chance on this house, situated on a flood plain. In 1982, a 100 year flood had swept thru Forest Knolls & the surrounding towns and counties. I was living in Fairfax, Ca. at the time, but had gone to Scammons Lagoon in Baja, Ca. with a bunch of kayakers to explore the largest Gray Whale nursery in Baja. The mothers & baby whales came right up to the kayaks; I had the privilege of touching a baby whale. </span><br />
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On our way home from Baja we stopped overnight at a hotel in L.A., turned on the news and discovered that West Marin, Ca. had been declared a disaster area, the National Guard called out. The water was so high in the town of Fairfax that boats were being used to get around the village and residents were kayaking down Bolinas Ave. Who knew we didn't have to go all the way to Baja to kayak?! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVeGpI8OSfHDZPpJEig0_PD2WKVHnsMZfNvKRdDlwaWzbdFZzLlXZCsdTqfGSZm5AXY0s7q7YM29Jhyb4xHUxK2Yq2X_wxL062PCLKR_KLEfjSyFHGklg_Wi859LYA-d91Io10bRD1UoTa/s1600/Tunstead+ave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVeGpI8OSfHDZPpJEig0_PD2WKVHnsMZfNvKRdDlwaWzbdFZzLlXZCsdTqfGSZm5AXY0s7q7YM29Jhyb4xHUxK2Yq2X_wxL062PCLKR_KLEfjSyFHGklg_Wi859LYA-d91Io10bRD1UoTa/s1600/Tunstead+ave.jpg" height="264" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neighboring San Anselmo 1982 historic flood</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIfp3v7VEdMDPceEhb7bJdz48mW9d4-erohZbeGSPkrcAOWWKOlKnabBZ3r38aVd381mMu652vryhkMdVwx-bKuuUyXNub9nu39_z1zGgYGi1HN2LDY_2k9TFyvu7o6g5xvGJMEaQhaEYQ/s1600/Closed+till+after+rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIfp3v7VEdMDPceEhb7bJdz48mW9d4-erohZbeGSPkrcAOWWKOlKnabBZ3r38aVd381mMu652vryhkMdVwx-bKuuUyXNub9nu39_z1zGgYGi1HN2LDY_2k9TFyvu7o6g5xvGJMEaQhaEYQ/s1600/Closed+till+after+rain.jpg" /></a></div>
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Since the house had flooded before and there was the likelihood of it happening again, no flood insurance was to be had. And we probably could not have afforded it even if there were. And sure enough, a few years later, the rain, she came, and the waters started rising again. I wrote a poem about it, "On the Edge of Papermill Creek". One of the illustrious literary lions from our writing group, Mike R. kindly sent it off to the Coastal Post, where it was published in the May 1, 1995 issue. But by then we were living ON the water in a houseboat in Sausalito on Issaquah Dock. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IFHTwk9eiGk4-eICED7jyfMj8wr19h4lyJmeIn2MWt8RdnPD6XwGVFKwQMYHkftWn1aiY6aDFLu36Q9I3Fwd4MrFoEn4-GtOCGe-60U_T0m77xuGMofvjQ69Fqp5SuVsfUM1gB0gM_Bv/s1600/Issaquah+Dock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IFHTwk9eiGk4-eICED7jyfMj8wr19h4lyJmeIn2MWt8RdnPD6XwGVFKwQMYHkftWn1aiY6aDFLu36Q9I3Fwd4MrFoEn4-GtOCGe-60U_T0m77xuGMofvjQ69Fqp5SuVsfUM1gB0gM_Bv/s1600/Issaquah+Dock.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEircbliV0spfG68LAqP2CrJSWtf3NAesqS6WS9xLBfd3RzK_4RaPqXBdP2eYlzI3rn3-M-XpRmv7RX0SGem8xL5J6vMHtMOcXc0lYzQuMKIdMMoxzMoODvYJmBw4_LaKSvKVk0ThkbnHcoh/s1600/IssaquahDock2008_9293B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEircbliV0spfG68LAqP2CrJSWtf3NAesqS6WS9xLBfd3RzK_4RaPqXBdP2eYlzI3rn3-M-XpRmv7RX0SGem8xL5J6vMHtMOcXc0lYzQuMKIdMMoxzMoODvYJmBw4_LaKSvKVk0ThkbnHcoh/s1600/IssaquahDock2008_9293B.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Issaquah Dock, Sausalito, CA.</td></tr>
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When it began raining non-stop in France in November,<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"> each day became another soggy Groundhog Day; a </span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">répétition</span></span> of rivers rising, memories "flooding" back. I looked for the poem and badgered my poor old writing pals to see if they could conjure up a copy, but alas, nada, & unless there was a hard copy somewhere the only other record was on an old hard drive in a computer bone yard somewhere.</span></span><br />
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Then in May, back in California, one of the moldy storage boxes coughed up a copy from the Coastal Post - dingue! (unreal)<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><b>On The Edge of Papermill Creek</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">It will never stop raining in this town.</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">Everything is sinking,</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">roads, spirits, bank accounts.</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">Only the creeks and reservoirs are rising,</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">Papermill, Lagunitas, Nicasio.</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">We should have put our house on stilts,</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">like smart birds, </span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">and planted Weeping Willows along the banks</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">to stem the erosion (those ladies love </span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">to get their feet wet.)</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Instead,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">we made love in the<i> sunlight,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">under an archway of oranges</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">In the <i>moonlight</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">behind a slumbering pear tree</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">at <i>dusk</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">while a blue deer captured </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">our garden.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">In the dark, wet morning,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">while houses slide slowly</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">down the cheekbones of hillsides,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">I am awakened by the sound of your hands</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">insistent as wild Madrones </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">against the French doors.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">I watch you stream barefooted </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">to the deck</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">and arc breadballs to the baby steelheads,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">leaping and shining as the sky splits apart,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">and rain pours down like quicksilver.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">It will never stop raining in this town, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">but I know somewhere out there </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">in the Cadillac desert</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">an Ocotillo is on fire. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
Now here's where it gets kind of spooky, fourth dimensional, Twilight Zone-ish. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug8uzBPJfDgoxMKoB5M2lRu-BRH2gdFTTkEJxPWPQS0SuR3FcNTl5JNJblD3GYb7z0lsi3HJSqhe8zzWv4lAAsRMtHokHPYcSeKSIVw4BAy6JOuA7OiDF3rhvsWSSEFGsG5gB1mZxEaiG/s1600/Crystal+ball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug8uzBPJfDgoxMKoB5M2lRu-BRH2gdFTTkEJxPWPQS0SuR3FcNTl5JNJblD3GYb7z0lsi3HJSqhe8zzWv4lAAsRMtHokHPYcSeKSIVw4BAy6JOuA7OiDF3rhvsWSSEFGsG5gB1mZxEaiG/s1600/Crystal+ball.jpg" height="254" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacques Henri Lartigue, 1931 - Renee Perle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I woke up in the middle of the night to the dark, rushing sounds of Papermill Creek spilling over its banks, closing in on the house. From my bed I could <i>see</i> trees ripped from their roots, amputated branches caught on boulders - all spinning in a wild vortex, an unstoppable maelstrom. I did not leave the bed, but could <i>see</i> the water mounting the deck, covering the kitchen floorboards. A line from Whitman's "Leaves of Grass" was running thru my head: "I Sing the Body Electric". I felt my body to be electrified & some grander portion of myself split off, rose above me, floating out over the creek where I opened my arms and with all my strength & all my might, I "pushed" the waters back. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV9BMxxntDahcuVRRpqHlDVfXpJfnWAg0NmrRkgc1sMGV73ZvOy3vghpORfBSkTxEEypTV9Gkiah7mZ7nCukQx2OKRfSGuRZlGrHLPLcqrGpQuy2RR3jakPtWvsrM7HeTRAp1xC-8wSfBi/s1600/Marc-Chagall-stained-glas-001angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV9BMxxntDahcuVRRpqHlDVfXpJfnWAg0NmrRkgc1sMGV73ZvOy3vghpORfBSkTxEEypTV9Gkiah7mZ7nCukQx2OKRfSGuRZlGrHLPLcqrGpQuy2RR3jakPtWvsrM7HeTRAp1xC-8wSfBi/s1600/Marc-Chagall-stained-glas-001angel.jpg" height="240" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marc Chagall - Stained glass window from a little church at Tudeley in Kent</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">"I sing the body electric,<br />
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,<br />
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,<br />
And discorrupt them, and <i>charge them full with the charge of the soul</i>."</span> - Walt Whitman <br />
<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMYLpgbQMsWAmp9bGVdgju1T8lV0eqPfEuQyeGzo09e7C6il0V9Lmdxl9rJOrMYvwM3Gt3p7okA7NScI9T5iodU1ilPdqALGY_DGzY-UJvEVX1kIuEbQAPoQO9ubhuJAOp0Oq6vjnGtmi/s1600/picassopaintinginlight252c1949252812529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMYLpgbQMsWAmp9bGVdgju1T8lV0eqPfEuQyeGzo09e7C6il0V9Lmdxl9rJOrMYvwM3Gt3p7okA7NScI9T5iodU1ilPdqALGY_DGzY-UJvEVX1kIuEbQAPoQO9ubhuJAOp0Oq6vjnGtmi/s1600/picassopaintinginlight252c1949252812529.jpg" height="257" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picasso Painting in Light - 1949</td></tr>
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<br />
Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Our adjacent neighbors, a harpist and guitarist from the group Platero, had their house on stilts, so they were ok, but everyone else along the creek flooded...except for us. Much later I found out the 100th episode of Twilight Zone was titled, "I Sing the Body Electric".<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJF4FdDtAn6COx5sfJvYSSaAXATbQONcoqr4ZexVUajlbA4CONeGZS0abkc5tjdXeySMNe-7SA17B0hiA8E8DDhAGQYL8qfnkN80xd6GS8QZCGt6K1GOddYkUoqrPw8Kb0Iw-zvIzqrQc/s1600/toni-frissell1939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJF4FdDtAn6COx5sfJvYSSaAXATbQONcoqr4ZexVUajlbA4CONeGZS0abkc5tjdXeySMNe-7SA17B0hiA8E8DDhAGQYL8qfnkN80xd6GS8QZCGt6K1GOddYkUoqrPw8Kb0Iw-zvIzqrQc/s1600/toni-frissell1939.jpg" height="320" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toni Frisselle - 1939</td></tr>
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We all have these unexplained events in our lives. How do we know what we know? Hotpockets of knowing -- we call it magic or a sixth sense. And taken to another level, sometimes we can impact outcomes. <br />
<br />
I love this piece below my brother wrote in response to the Tarot forecasting I did of my friend Annie's moment of passing when I got back from California. I think it applies to all of the esoteric arts and that which we cannot see, but know is there, like the invisible hand that supports us. <br />
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div>
<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<i><span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">Eerie about the cards. I've heard many stories like that
and it is a reminder that we are all entangled at a quantum level. Did
you know that there is no such thing as a true physical touch? Our atoms
have fields that repel the fields of other atoms as they approach.
There is never any physical contact between the nuclei of atoms (except
in the extreme case of neutron stars, which are the dead and eternal
corpse of the largest of suns). We can never really surpass our physical
manifestation. And yet, at the subatomic level, we are forever
interacting with each other. Experiments have shown electrons separated
by vast distances suddenly changing their spin to match that of a sister
electron artificially altered. How little we know and understand about
the unseen. The cards are a gesture to the infinite. Is it any wonder
that such a vibrant invisible reality must be in some sense available to
us?</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: orange;"> </span> <span style="color: orange;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: orange;">Mk</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkQFYhPF1EcYG4MsQsUXEGTISX-uwR0WpUEhYacVUGZSjYSSr2KlYMnvqr8K_rF2d9GqvU9LdImggc4G2Et_lwqGtbe5AWbDVDR5X4Mt0D4ZFmHSMA7t94xAvEcDVBdU67tSGLrb0FKJQ/s1600/Geocaching+triumph+Abbaye+de+Boschaud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkQFYhPF1EcYG4MsQsUXEGTISX-uwR0WpUEhYacVUGZSjYSSr2KlYMnvqr8K_rF2d9GqvU9LdImggc4G2Et_lwqGtbe5AWbDVDR5X4Mt0D4ZFmHSMA7t94xAvEcDVBdU67tSGLrb0FKJQ/s1600/Geocaching+triumph+Abbaye+de+Boschaud.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Annie & Bill - Geocaching Triumph - Abbaye de Boschaud - May 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Blog dedicated to Ann Duvall who graced us with her presence - Feb. 1, 1948 - June 15, 2014. I feel you all around me. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgje69on5kCchaVaPR2VdjSC5XbR_BAEKNKGma6zSoN0g8SJDKOCdw3RWMoQOkSRQsOJDE_qFu4iXu5Zmjgj69Mab_qdwGfPIaqmLFhLJR2PE6-9FgWImQgw8TzQxlF64uOQKc4pjhoK8dA/s1600/Sappho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgje69on5kCchaVaPR2VdjSC5XbR_BAEKNKGma6zSoN0g8SJDKOCdw3RWMoQOkSRQsOJDE_qFu4iXu5Zmjgj69Mab_qdwGfPIaqmLFhLJR2PE6-9FgWImQgw8TzQxlF64uOQKc4pjhoK8dA/s1600/Sappho.jpg" height="320" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna Oneglia - annaoneglia.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>pining requires</b><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93c47d;"> every green chassis brushes a sunny dominance</span><br />
<span style="color: #93c47d;">dog ghosts the garden merrily absence boasts presence</span><br />
<span style="color: #93c47d;"><br /><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #93c47d;">gesture upon gesture, sans discussion, the body of love rises</span><br />
<span style="color: #93c47d;"> splashing cool water in the smooth chamber</span><br />
<span style="color: #93c47d;"><br /><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #93c47d;"> beneath the climbing vine, the mound of earth has settled</span><br />
<span style="color: #93c47d;">grief requires a body and someone looking back</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #93c47d;"> faraway whistling, hips rusting</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span><br />
<br />
Stephanie Marlis from <i>Fine</i><br />
<br />
<span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: small; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-auto; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times, serif; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Be alive in this moment; be conscious of your treasures. Be spontaneous
with your joy and thankfulness. Show your gratitude. It's time to fall
in love again.-- Lazaris</i></b></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: orange;">*Photos from the Eglise at Rauzet, a couple of miles from us where a dance collective</span><br />
<span style="color: orange;">did some posing in the upper reaches of the Nave. Beautiful to see the human shapes against the stone. </span> <br />
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<br />Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-778160201740809088.post-1464661528854871572014-06-21T17:53:00.000-07:002014-06-26T12:31:49.380-07:00SCAFFOLDING ON THE MEMORY PALACE, Moons & Macaroons <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="color: yellow;"><i>Don't tell me the moon is shining;</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: yellow;"><i>show me the glint of light on broken glass.</i></span></div>
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- Anton Chekov</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Friday the 13th, Lune de Miel - "Honey Moon" - Charras, Fr </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9UF21Nr_aGSEElXYhcj4EXCBReASoLMLNIKAmyD1tq9cmNZD1Pn5sjWhEPPjtOxgcgpIbuqEKt9cA6v3aZrPcKwVeDC7zEwXiX88Lm-jH9rTa98ZOQJ5UVVp-eeVekXzxWHuWaxSM04OY/s1600/Honey+Moon+in+France.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9UF21Nr_aGSEElXYhcj4EXCBReASoLMLNIKAmyD1tq9cmNZD1Pn5sjWhEPPjtOxgcgpIbuqEKt9cA6v3aZrPcKwVeDC7zEwXiX88Lm-jH9rTa98ZOQJ5UVVp-eeVekXzxWHuWaxSM04OY/s1600/Honey+Moon+in+France.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a> </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ubRHdlxuvBj-tEVBJCdSmpzHlEMBnjxHuQS664S0D5svlMlKDPGb5GYSmqbgIIAZ-ga_e9iASsSHnusSHjZB6Xb2cW26vSQBfu6xyqu3HrTod5GZVMQoOlK16_3SC87Ju0DeAKsvfq8d/s1600/Hare+jumped+over+the+moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ubRHdlxuvBj-tEVBJCdSmpzHlEMBnjxHuQS664S0D5svlMlKDPGb5GYSmqbgIIAZ-ga_e9iASsSHnusSHjZB6Xb2cW26vSQBfu6xyqu3HrTod5GZVMQoOlK16_3SC87Ju0DeAKsvfq8d/s1600/Hare+jumped+over+the+moon.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Hare Jumped Over the Moon - Jodie Tucker</td></tr>
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<br />
<i>Stories was everything and everything was stories;</i><br />
<i>I was searching for the "gold tooth in God's crooked smile </i>-<br />
from "Searching for the Wrong-eyed Jesus" - BBC documentary about the American South <br />
<span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span>
I warmed my bones in California where it was already July in May - gelato and firecrackers, open-toed shoes, air conditioning & sunscreen. When I left France it was raining & when I returned it was raining. It's been raining since November. My eyes burned on the way to Sonoma from SF airport; Hwy 101 has lots of potholes. Still shiny, but California's promised land feels depleted, like a canvas stretched and painted over too many times. They did indeed "pave paradise and put up a parking lot."<br />
<br />
CARS & COFFEE - Everywhere<br />
"Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?" - Albert Camus<br />
<br />
I'm not used to so many cars - two lanes of traffic to my left, two lanes to my right; I felt like a pinball ricocheting across the asphalt. And you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a caffeine purveyor within a two meter radius. The mugs are huge; you could fit 20 teeny weeny French espressos into one Starbucks Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappaccino Blended Beverage (doesn't mean I didn't do my best to consume as many as I could.) And since everything else is gluten free and organic, it all works out!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee Poster</td></tr>
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<span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span>
Arriving at my Empress friend Dawn's oasis in Sonoma, she feeds me guacamole and bean chips. Since I'd spent the previous night half-asleep on Charles De Gaulle's airport floor, I was ravenous. (There had been a mix-up with hotel reservation). I don't think I've ever tasted anything so good.<br />
<br />
I climbed into the big clawfoot bathtub & soaked away the travel cooties. On the guest room night stand was Stewart Warren's book of poetry: "Here There Is Also Burning" - poems of place and poems of ardor. In one of my blogs I wrote about Warren's book, "Pointing to My Heart: Poetry Journey through the Visconti Sforza Tarot," so I am thrilled at this synchronicity, finding a kindred spirit here.<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">It is the hour of the Wolf, between night & dawn, ghosts and demons. I am fried, but I scribble some notes which I won't be able to decipher later on, except for this passage which remained semi-legible from his poem Jemez, <i>"...some happiness has descended or risen - anyway location is not what we thought. My hand rises without prompting as I'm reminded to wave at travelers, these holy shapes and forms, this grand migration of ours."</i> With apologies to Warren if I have slaughtered his finely crafted words. Tarot threads in and out of his writing. There is a poem titled "The Hermit" & another poem, "In the Cards," references the Page of Wands - buy his book & you won't be sorry. </span><br />
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Next day in the early morning mist we take Maddie, Dawn's Jack Russell terrier, for a walk in the vineyards across the road to see the crooked armed grapevines pocketed on the sides of the rolling, golden hills of California. Hard squint & it could be France. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh74sNQAGyIy9VAfNTiWhhefCfLrsSQM9DTKIdbrGe9ztGN1LagZ6L25JdcwhIckb0qdyUter3hX-XP2lwOQ5Kym7AU1oFXtDMNpOMgJofzge_vS8cdoSZGdil9xvFLRiWDD7Z5XhwLDfwX/s1600/caneros+Vineyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh74sNQAGyIy9VAfNTiWhhefCfLrsSQM9DTKIdbrGe9ztGN1LagZ6L25JdcwhIckb0qdyUter3hX-XP2lwOQ5Kym7AU1oFXtDMNpOMgJofzge_vS8cdoSZGdil9xvFLRiWDD7Z5XhwLDfwX/s1600/caneros+Vineyard.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caneros Vineyard - Sonoma<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I've brought French Macarons with me all the the way from Paris *** Laduree's. Not long ago there was a Macaron "smackdown" between Ladurees' and Pierre Hermes' pastry shops, both on Rue Bonaparte in Paris. Who cares who won? They are both fantastic. But here's the kicker: later in the week I went shopping at Costco in Novato and they had the same Macarons for a third of the price. America = the land of plenty good eats. The variety & quality of the food made me dizzy as I walked thru the shops, bedazzled by exotic & home cooked take-a-ways; if I moved back I'd never cook again. We eat a lot of leeks in France. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>NOSTALGIA -</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="dateGroup">Origin, <span class="date">late 18th century</span></span> (in the sense 'acute homesickness'): modern Latin (translating German <i>Heimweh</i> 'homesickness'), from Greek <i>nostos</i> 'return home' + <i>algos</i> 'pain'.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There is a comfort in the familiar; I don't need a GPS to find my way around & the ease of acquisition is in marked contrast to days spent navigating French hardware stores or auto repair places trying to find a windshield wiper. Yet, I now feel like a foreigner, astonished that neighbors aren't giving each other Vervaine and parsnips or freshly laid eggs. And where is the laundry drying in the sun? There are leaf blowers instead of aproned women sweeping the sidewalks. I am "homesick" for two homes, two countries, straddling two very different worlds.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">I do as many readings as I can for friends & family who are "tangled up in blue" </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>"Blue is glory and power, a wave, a particle, a vibration, a resonance, a spirit, a passion, a memory, a vanity, a metaphor, a dream. Blue is a simile. Blue, she is like a woman." </i></span>from </span><span class="gt-card-ttl-txt" style="direction: ltr;">Sacré Bleu, Christopher Moore. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="gt-card-ttl-txt" style="direction: ltr;">I see everyone I can, spend precious time with a friend who is dying; the time slips through my fingers. I squeeze in a week at Harbin Hot Springs in northern CA, soaking and divining. No cameras, no electronic devices, no internet. </span></span><br />
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The Hot Pool - Harbin Hot Springs, Middletown, CA.<br />
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Yoga & Meditation at the Temple<br />
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Grand Tableau Reading for Dawn, Lenormand Revolution Deck <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">At the 11th hour, I go through the last of the storage items my poor friend has been schlepping around for a few years - the Memory Palace in crates, full of photographs, poems, short stories, Art Deco hats, crystals etc. A mixture of pain and joy, a recognition of that other self who lived a very different life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I found a poem my brother wrote me for my birthday in 1998</span>:<br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before, when work was the</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">Book of Numbers, all the</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">world was windows.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">Windows are the promise,</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">sly tempters who are </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">sometimes mirrors. They</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">reveal possibility, and hope.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now is the Day of Doors.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">There are no certainties</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">on the other side. No </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">visions. No revealed</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">Day. But the door, once</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">opened, surrenders the</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">Universe.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">And you are a window.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">And you are a door.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">The future opens in you</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">like Hinges of Light. </span></span></div>
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Mark Kreighbaum</div>
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Sunrise on the Solstice, Charras, France<br />
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Chateau at Sunset <br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">'Cause you're a sky full of stars</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm going to give you my heart</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">'Cause you're a sky full of stars</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">I wanna die in your arms</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="font-size: small;">You're a sky, you're a sky full of stars<br />
Such a heavenly view<br />
You're such a heavenly view</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">-Coldplay</span></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;">LIVE TO THE POINT OF TEARS</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> - Albert Camus </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"> And if you are in the area, please join us for the Vernissage/gallery opening for our</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">new exhibit at Chateau Sainte Catherine outside of Marthon. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Next time: Athena & The Trees, another anniversaire, "Three Things", Adieu to Annie & Gesture to the Infinite. What can't be said shall be Wept. </span></div>
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Rudyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10726478447061904646noreply@blogger.com0