An enticement to write

“I speak when I cease to be at peace with my thoughts.” Kahlil Gibran

For the longest time Gibran’s words were my mantra and I increasingly seemed to ‘speak’ all the time; I could no longer shut up. My thoughts filled volumes of air space. Some friends and family who had never given attention to their own thoughts gave mine even less. Alas there were few left who understood my ‘need’ for expression; as if I were a balloon and would pop if not gently deflated. Until one day it was suggested that I ‘blog”… put all of my thoughts to flight.

I don’t remember what took me to Zimbio; a portal featuring magazines that individual members creat. Pick a subject and write. So I made a “wikizine’ as they are called and wrote from art to politics. “Remove the Rose Colored Glasses” asked everyone to ‘couple’ with my thoughts and together create something new: an effort at synergy. What I found was that most members dealt with specific subjects while I was allover the spectrum of life. I began to look around for something a bit more enticing until it found me.

It had been so very long since I had written anything other than children’s stories. Today I’m not convinced that I impact anyone, but remain content to have my words grace a few pages. There is a ‘freeing’ for me to see my thoughts, read my thoughts, and give them wings to fly. My hope: I needed them to leave me, allowing more mental space to continue exploring the world around; more emotional space to explore what others’ feel; and more physical freedom to explore thoughts that I once thought too taboo to dare mention. Why? Because I had everything balled up inside of me and this enticement to write became a gift.

Like a new creature living in a far-away cave I only played with leaving my space for years. My space that I was sure was comfortable, yet had it been comfortable I would not be here today. Comfort did not entice me to write. Disappointment in the cave came often and I longed to breach its boundaries; move or be moved. From somewhere beyond my sight a light shone and came to rest within my view. My inexperience with writing and exploring cautioned me while my “National Geographic’s” self pleaded to let others share their world with me. Maybe they too were no longer at peace with their thoughts. I wanted to hear. Their lives were the enticement I needed. Slowly and surely I moved toward the cave’s opening and looked at the majestic ocean that lay before me: its only one wave at a time, one enticement to write. I took a deep breath and swam out to meet the day.

In the quiet of the night

In the quiet of the night, I can contemplate the most marvelous things or the most pitiful sorrows. I can make them as big or as small as I choose. With only the low hum of my fan, I sit here and type away. Sometimes I wish I could type away the misery of my own and other people's lives; yet I cannot. It is then that I feel so small. And I type and I type.

In the course of my typing along comes a moment of faith and I am renewed. To the cruelest of people I'd like to say, "keep typing, you're not there yet." To the happiest of people I'd like to say, "Keep sending out what you've typed and encourage us to continue in understanding joy and love."

In the quiet of the night I can type chapter after chapter of my life, or of others that may never be read save by me? There are chapters that I've written that never a tear was shed until I reread them. It's also possible that not a tear was shed when an actual event occurred. It is only through the growth of my spirit that I am able to look in hindsight and weep in sorrow or in joy. This is good. This means I'm moving along, while at the same time, I can stand still and feel what I didn't or couldn't before. I find it further astounding that I can take those combined experiences and apply them appropriately to whatever is going on today. I can know when I'm sad. I can know when I'm joyful. I can know when someone else feels those same feelings. I can offer a shoulder, a smile, or both. Yet when the pain of too much sorrow or too much joy would overwhelm me I move to the quiet of the night and I type.

Type, as much as I do, I will not understand those people who love evil; not that they do evil, but that they love it. I can type about what they do. I can type about the attitudes, the facial expressions, the body language, and the heart sickening words. Within my being come the words my Mom used to say, though she wasn't the author, "There, but by the grace of God, go I." How fortunate, yea, how blessed I really am, that I do not love evil. God prevent me from that tragedy. I would not judge them, but I would not want to be them.... those who love evil. I have a difficult time praying for their change when I see no change ever occurring. Year after year I worry that those who love evil will realize too late what they have passed up. So into the night I go and type and I thank the Eternal that if they only exist to show me what not to want, then, it is well. I type, "I am made of dust.... and just as quickly as 'they' can be swept out, so can I."

When tears are shared and mingle together with someone who loves you they offer comfort. So when all of those tears are puddling at your shoes, know that you can step into a dry spot..... And I'll step with you.

The One That Got Away

Prologue

Not all trips are pleasant ones. Some merely exist to teach us a lesson. A lesson about ourselves: what we've been, what we are, or what we might become. Let us not look lightly at the negative behavior we're ever exposed to, lest we become the same in thought and deed.

The One That Got Away

I caught a fish, a very large fish, and fought my better judgment to let it go. It was my trophy, I had to display it, photograph it and show all of my friends that I was the best of the best of fishermen. My ego blindingly held myself, as well as the fish, captive. My overzealous need for "just one more person" to recognize my superiority caused great delay in the preservation of the fish; alas! It was inedible. The bodily damage was such that it could not even be mounted to be observed for all time. The wall in my living room would remain bare.

What was found was painfully ruined, as I contemplated the one that got away. How was it that the joy of the catch did not stay with me? Within my mind I recalled the moment of bringing that mighty one to the surface and how proud I had been. I was the best and here was my proof. How was it that I did not see, that as the fish began to disintegrate, so had my trip? My joy for one had caused me to ignore any joy for anything or anyone else. When the one that got away, went away, there was no experience left to fill the void. I had alienated all others, deeming them unworthy of my attention.

I sat alone and pondered what I might have done differently. Better yet, I sought a new direction for the next trip. I would leave behind all cumbersome things and ones that would divide the mighty fisherman's attention. I would have my complete joy in the catch, and a large cooler to preserve my new slave. Nothing and no one would hinder my expectations.

Epilogue

Not all trips are pleasant ones. Out of the darkness a line is dropped into the water of our soul. Some come with hooks that are attached to things we'd be wise to avoid. What we've been, what we are, or what we may become, depends largely on what we yield ourselves to accepting. Let us not think lightly on the times when we're allowed to be the one that got away.

What brings you home?

What brings you home? What compels you to stop your daily rush and seek rest? Do you believe in taking time out to rejuvenate the body and mind? Or do you just run on and on until exhaustion catches up with you and bids you put down your head? What brings you home?

The KJV1611 version says that man IS a soul… not that man HAS a soul; big difference. So those commercials of tropical or mountainous vacations offering tranquility for you: mind, body, and soul are a bit understated now. So it’s just as important that you take the opportunity of resting from daily grind and feed your soul; your entire essence.

What path leads you to discover that charity is the best gift you can give to your self. Yes, sharing what you have with others brings a wealth of treasure into your heart. Oh, but how often do I hear: “I don’t have anything to share?” Don’t you? Or do you allow your fear of not having enough discourage you from giving?

Is there a light in your life that keeps you from judging what the other guy thinks is important? If you disagree with the way he lives do you pray for him anyway? Or is prayer something you only turn to when things are tough? Or is prayer a bunch of hooey and you’d rather think that you control the universe? What light are you following?

I don’t have the answers you seek because they are yours to seek. I can stand by and tell you what I found, but unless you are open to what I have to share, it is futile to proceed. Indeed you will come, only, when you’re dissatisfied with your own answers. Until then I am another person in the world who is here… simply here. I am always looking just like you for things to make my life better; things I can use to help other people make their life better. And when we all live with each other in mind…the light that brings us home will truly lead us home.

Asian Lover

An Asian land in smoky mist
My open hand becomes a fist
I am powerless to dare resist
All thy beauty I would list

I give control to every place
My loftiness shows on my face
Oh Asian charm from thee is grace
Your maple leaves resemble lace

Yet you would leave me all alone
And there’s no one to call my own
I sought to make your land my home
But left to venture and to roam

An Asian land in smoky mist
Regard the hand that makes this fist
Return the love at twilight’s tryst
Renew the vow I can’t resist

Feeling Small Yet?

With all the borrowing that the government has been doing, who owns us? Really, think about it. If we defaulted on the loans we’ve received, who would could come in and start claiming property? Which country holds more of our debt? Are you feeling small yet?

New laws have been passed that would appear to keep us safe from outside forces; foreign intelligence is laughing. The new laws could just as easily put the citizens of this country into jail cells, while the foreigners come in and purchase the home you no longer own. Are you feeling small yet?

Okay, who are the foreigners? From the top of my head I’d say they are people who have not chosen to become American citizens. What about dual citizenship; belonging to two countries? I think that is one of the most unfair practices we’ve ever allowed here; surely the favorite country will have its best interest looked at first and America is last. Why must America be last? Are you feeling small yet?

Countries all over the world supposedly envy us. Maybe they’re paying bigger taxes than I am. I am taxed on everything and that is not freedom, but a misconception of “paying for what you want.” Make no mistake there are things I want no part of and yet I still have to fork over the tax because I’m not free to say “no”.

Sometimes I think that Britain and the elite of Europe shipped all the rejects here and then proceeded to indoctrinate us on “being a great country.” Of course it went to my head and I’m thinking: “hey, I’m really in the best country in the world.” But then they have to control your government by making all of these laws that squeeze you out of participation. They bring in the Federal Reserve which does not answer to this country since it is privately owned; they can pretty much do as they like. Oh the Feds are a bit unhappy right now because their lies have come home to roost and we must finally play and pay catch up as the economy hands us the bills for their indiscretions. Are you feeling small yet? I am.

Precious Pandas

In this world we need to remember that all creatures have rights. Personally I have a dislike for people who hunt animals for pure sport. I mean take up baseball for Pete's sake and leave the animals alone.

But the hunters have now forced the hands of zoo keepers to try and save a species before the hunters wipe them out. After living in the wild who wants to live in a zoo?

I often wonder what these hunters would do if we developed a zoo for them? Make them endangered and ship them off to a land they've never seen or been to...huh? Too bad they can't have a taste of their own medicine, so to speak. Let's give "law of the jungle" a tweak. Please respect all life.

We'll always remember Bill

Bill was fourteen years old and his owners were giving him up because they had two very small children; Bill rarely got their attention any more. He lived in a small laundry room and learned to how to say, "Leave the light on," because he hated to be by himself in there, in the dark. The owners claimed he learned the sentence from the girls. Just the same, once he came to live with us, we never let him be in the dark by himself.

Caring for Bill was like taking care of 2-3 year old. He was smart but had really suffered from less human companionship over the last few years. The first thing we did was open his cage, which we called, "Bill's house." We wanted him to be able to move around freely as our other two birds did. It took us over two weeks to coax him into coming out. In the end we had to bait him with sunflower seeds, which he dearly loved. He'd follow you anywhere for a sunflower seed.

Around nineteen years old he really began to have difficulty moving about. Trips to the bird doctor were not encouraging. In fact the doc was really surprised that Bill had lived so long, and told us to prepare ourselves for Bill's final leaving. A month before he turned twenty years old, Bill passed on to that big sky above, or that's the way we like to think. Somewhere in the back of my mind I hoped he would be flying in the heavens, though we never clipped his wings, he never knew he could fly. The last word he learned was "sweet" from one of our niece's the weekend before his passing on Monday. So like Bill to get the best out of the weekend even if it was his last! He was sweet! We'll always remember Bill.

The Elections are Coming

I've been practicing my Die bold skills! Yep, need to be ready to pull the lever for the candidate I want and head out the door.

It's not easy knowing so little about the candidates. I mean, really, I know so little; their voting record says one thing at times when they are speaking something else. Oh well, isn't that just like life in the good old USA?! Do we ever really mean what we say?

Ha; this time I'm trying to learn everything but most importantly, "what can I do to make my country a better place?" There will lots of other names to vote in or out... this could take more time than I planned. A quick run to the store for more cheese ought to get me through the next four months. Four Months!! Think about it; in four months somebody will be telling us something new. Unless we have a boo-boo catastrophe and the white house stays the same. Help!

Just the same, please make the time to look at the people you want to represent you in this country. Are you happy with the congress? Are you happy with the house of representatives? Look to see who'll be voted on at the same time that the presidential vote takes place. Until then, grab a helmit and come on over. Me: 1 Die bold : 2

I need His peace

Often what I hear is "location, location, location," and I suppose you need to know what your location is for: business, living, recreation, but I am looking for that perfect spot for reflection.

Each of us would benefit with time away from the "busy-ness" of the world to reflect on how we are doing. If you have a higher power, this could be a great place to "meet" the power and discuss the things you need to just "be".

The thing that I like about this photo is the ocean and the always calm feeling when I'm there. I hear the roar of the waves and know they are bigger than me, and yet they continue to come into shore and often lull me to peace. Is there anything in the business world that can lull me to peace? Absolutely not... and why is that?

In the world I have to always stand guard over my rights, over my property, over the thinking that keeps me headed in my path. It's a major discernment of which voice do I listen to. I have to practice acceptance of rules, regulations, and man-made laws that "tell me they're good for me," or else they'll take my life and throw it in a jail cell. Within the world there are many countries and even more rules; can anyone stop the spinning of the world and let me get off?

So lest the world try to lull me into a sense of peace I look for a place to meet my higher power and listen to His voice. Only His strength will help me remain calm in the day's trouble. Only His vision is accurate and tells me what I'm really seeing. Only His arms comfort me when I feel lost among the many locations, locations, locations of turmoil. And His grace lulls me when the day is done and I need peace... His peace.

My Tender Arms

Ease and comfort we do share
Beside the other in your lair

Watchful are you every day
Help my life become what may

Sword to guard and chase the fool
Away from me just like a tool

Warm air circles as I sleep
Dragon's breath soft and sweet

Never go too far away
Keep me near is what I pray

Skin to skin we rest awhile
Morning brings a secret smile

I will live with creature charms
And offer up my tender arms

Time to take that cruise

Sometimes things are just too hot.

Lots of news to feel sorry over.

No answers come along.

Just read one bad story after another.

I'm writing in a form like a poem.

I don't feel like hearing rhyme.

Psychological war all around us.

Just there to beat us down.

My van cost lots to fill with gas.

I don't go anywhere any more.

Candidates are debating issues they already have answers to.

They just forgot to share their ideas with the public.

I grabbed my bathing suit and a hoodie.

Packed some sandwiches and drinks.

I may be gone a while.

Time to take that cruise.

Ode to my gas pump: satire?

This little song is just for you
I wrote it out when I was blue
It never fails to stop or stump
My little ode to my gas pump

To fill her up or let her go
A quarter tank is just too low
My grocery list is getting dumped
By the needs of my little gas pump

Our favorite Bush reversed the ban
No where’s safe: ocean or the land
One small gift from commander chump
Who brought about the high-priced slump

One day soon I’ll take my song
Play for people who wait so long
The price has hit us in the rump
All join in: “ode to my gas pump”

Wall and more walls

Sometimes I get down right disgusted… and disgruntled over countries, including the one I live in, that claim they that don’t interfere with internal issues of another country. That usually translates into: “We have an agreement to look the other way.” And that’s exactly what’s happening to the citizens of Darfur. Oh USA, oh China, oh Sudan, and all you other pious countries that allow genocide to rule instead of life. Do you think this will be your only “taste” of death?

No one seems to be paying much attention to a possible boycott… and I understand: “Why should the athletes be punished for their governments’ failings in helping to secure peace for Darfur or any other region that is currently suffering from occupation?”

I was surprised and angry when my own government sent goods and supplies to Burma recently with stipulating conditions. What has happened to us? When did we become so greedy and manipulative? And yet the majority of citizens I spoke with were greatly surprised that “our aid” would be refused because we too often pull the “self-interest card.”

It is said over many internet sites that China furnishes Sudan with weapons, and most recently offered finances for a new palace. But they can’t find time to talk about the needs of Darfur, and trying to influence Sudan to ease up the battle? Then I’m thinking there’s something behind the scenes that I haven’t found yet.

I did find out that practically all Christian villages in Darfur, have been burned to the ground. Now that would be a good reason for China not to interfere; their dislike of Christianity is not hidden. And I’m perplexed as to why the American Christians are not sending aid. But I did read that most shipments were intercepted by the Sudanese militia… so have we reached an attitude of “why bother?”

The Olympics in Beijing, China runs August 8-24, 2008. Darfur is planning to have a team there. I’m personally hoping they win every event they place in. Maybe that will knock down a few walls.

Long Ago Flower

Long ago flower you gave us our lead
As the first of the blossoms that opened indeed
Your fragrance was strong, each nostril would flair
To inhale your scent that remained in the air

Bewildering color so rich and so soft
Gave rise to the spirit, it sent us a loft
Your petals now fade and crack at the edge
The last bit of beauty invites love’s sweet hedge

Your graced my long locks for the special event
When dancing was done your beauty was spent
I wish I could keep you from ruin and decay
And not have to pick another this day

Comedy or Tragedy

Do you remember the Michael Jackson song that said, “I’m starting with the man in the mirror; I’m asking him to change his ways”? Well that’s what entered my mind as I read about Bernie Mac at the Chicago event for Senator Barak Obama. Mr. Mac’s moment on stage was not as well received as anticipated. Since the event we hear that the Obama campaign has stated their objections and distance from the ill-received performance. I understand that Mr. Mac’s appearance was a surprise and that makes it more difficult for the crowd, paying $2300 per seat, to accept.

The zeal of some people to “sound” politically correct; to “associate” their opinions as those that are appropriate, means we all take a hit to freedom of speech every time. How do we avoid this misguided zealousness? And it is misguided; many are simply too captured by “how polite it seems to hold hands and pretend to sing together”. Okay, let’s do four verses of “Kum Bah Yah.”

I don’t think some material is appropriate when you’re having a family event, but if things were not worked out before the event, then laying complete blame at Bernie Mac’s feet is more inappropriate. It was up to the campaign event director to indicate what content would be acceptable for the Chicago event. Alas, it has come down to the scrutinizing of the words we speak or plan to speak. Senator Obama, in the end, asks Bernie to “clean up his act”, while at the same time, reassuring his friend that there was no initial harm meant; an absence of malice, if you will. Nothing gained, nothing lost?

Jackson executes a quick turn on the stage, performs several pelvic thrusts to the delight of the preteen and teenage audience, grabs his hat to pull down over his head and belts, “I’m starting with the man in the mirror; I’m asking him to change his ways..”

We don’t hear much from Michael these days; maybe he did change that man in the mirror. I know my mirror has reflected back many issues for me to deal with, so looking at Michael or Bernie shows me that my own freedom of speech is under question. And that if need be my friends and associates will distance themselves as well. If the celebrity world can no longer speak freely, then the “private, lesser citizens” are next.

A Rare Find

The most precious and most expensive spice in the world is saffron. The filaments, or threads, are actually the dried stigmas of the saffron flower, "Crocus Sativus Linnaeus". Each flower contains only three stigmas. These threads must be picked from each flower by hand, and more than 75,000 of these flowers are needed to produce just one pound of saffron filaments, making it the world’s most precious spice. Because of saffron's strong coloring power and intense flavor, it can be used sparingly. Saffron is used both for its bright orange-yellow color and for its strong, intense flavor and aroma.

I love cooking with saffron, a wonderful taste indeed; I use it on special occasions. There’s nothing like making rice from scratch and pouring the saffron flavoring over it when I’ve finished steaming the rice. Served with a Persian dish called Ghormeh Saabsi, it’s quite the treat. I have a passion for Persian food as well. I once lived near three women from Iran and saffron was almost a daily item for them to use. I really miss their cooking!

Along with sharing cooking in a small community, I found that our differences in culture did not have to divide us. One of their sayings became a favorite of mine: “Gorbana shomah,” which translates to “G-d be with you or bless you.” More and more I learned their language, Farsi”. One day I was visiting their apartment when a visitor from Iran showed up. The visitor heard me speaking downstairs and asked who I was? The three women told her that I was an American. She ran downstairs to see, because she did not believe I wasn’t Iranian. Seems in Farsi I have a southern accent; well that figures!

My point is that having friends that you cross cultural, religious, and civilian divides is just as rare and precious as those saffron filaments. Think about that a moment. Saffron was our initial connection, as we talked about recipes one spring day in the parking lot.

It was a wonderful moment in time in the late seventies right before the hostage situation in Tehran. After that life became a blur as one by one they disappeared from this country. I felt so sorry that there was something for them to fear in the United States. But today I understand more as I see our own citizens battling the same issues of privacy and safety. There is neither.
Today when I purchase saffron I remember those women and their wanting to have a better life. I hope they’ve had much success. “Gorbana shomah”.

Refined as pure silver

A friend of mine sent me this story in my email and she wishes to remain anonymous. I thought it to be very interesting and worth sharing.


Malachi 3:3 says: "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver."

This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study.

That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver.

As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities.

The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: "He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver." She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?"

He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy -- when I see my image in it."

Jabba Talk

Hello, Jabba here, taking over while dcrelief is out with health issues. So let's do "Jabba Talk" and discuss: why do people insist on going to work when they are sick?


I sat back and watched as dcrelief struggled to post to Saffron Sights; she couldn't see clearly, the pain medication was keeping her groggy, so why push the button that's broken? She needed to rest.


Often I go to the pond and find a neighbor with the sniffles and wiping their nose constantly and I want to yell: "Go home and take that cold with you."

Did you know that a single sneeze can travel 25 feet? A lot of people can be infected through that vehicle. Look, take you tail home, get into bed and stay there until you're over it. It is our personal responsibility to take care of ourselves the best way we know how; then courteously extend that care toward others.

Give work it's place in your life, but not your whole life. Choose something bigger than work to center your life around. If you are a believer of a higher power let him choose a path that includes some kind of charity; not necessarily money, but a choice of giving of your time. Like me giving my time to help out dcrelief. May she be well soon and return to Saffron Sights.

written by Jabba

the waiting stage

I'm a bit lost because of changes in my life and developing an illness. I can tell you about the changes, but the illness still awaits diagnosis.



Right now I'm taking a pain medication that practically knocks me out. This makes it difficult to blog, as I'm groggy, sometimes not even seeing the typing in front of me. Without the pain med. I would not be able to sit up.



Earlier I tried to type but fell asleep in the middle of it. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!



My family has a history of kidney failures, and cancer of the stomach, gal bladder, and pancreas; I'm a little scared. I wish I had more to write about but that's it for now. I'm in the "waiting" stage.


Changes: through a zimbio portal I met a man whom I shared interests with. He had another site of his own and I became a guest author. This carries a lot of responsibility... blogging on someone else site. I thought I did okay.


Next thing you know he gives me my own blog, and it proves to be a bit intimidating. Not to insult blogger, but this blog site is just more than I could imgine; yet here I am typing out my stuff on blogger because I feel safer. Does that make any sense to anyone? Can anyone explain why I feel this way? Alas with the change I'm in the "waiting" stage to see what I'll do.


It's as if only the "perfect" blogging stories or articles should go in the new site; meanwhile the lesser items can remain in blogger. Maybe this is all about having confidence in order to proceed. I'm waiting.

The Perfect End

The perfect end to every day

is watching children sleep

and though they hate to go away

the morning brings relief

Each child loves the silly games

and special gifts are given

the time will come we'll all complain

with children all's forgiven

So we should hold their light in close

and help them when they doubt

The lesson that each day will bring

Is: was it lit or out?

Waiting on One

This is the luckiest man when it comes to fly fishing! He invites us down to his place once in a while and gloats when nobody has caught anything. Gloats! That's definitely the word.

I stood out in that water and it was cool... I mean temperature cool, for two hours. I had to stay a little closer to the shore because I don't swim. Finally I could not take it anymore so I stumbled over to the bank and sat down.

Meanwhile he's a bit miffed because he only has nine fish and there's no limit on how many he can take. Score-wise I'm the closet to him, with an "almost turtle snatch" and two tangled branches. "Here," he says and places some fish in my basket, "hang on to these. I need more room."

In the next hour and a half he landed 16 more, to which he says, "Okay I think we have enough for the grill." It was like watching a spider throw webbing as he whip, whip, whipped, the line above our heads.

Maybe I could have sketched the fishes, painted them on canvas, written a poem about a wayward fish, but the best I could was sit there: waiting on one.

Our Lotus Life

Our life is like the lotus flower,
Each year is like a single hour.
The petals slowly open up,
And we are given breath to sup.

We float in water, waiting birth,
To share our beauty in the earth.
While in the womb, we often sing,
And pop out with our leaves of green.

The God, who sends us, is waiting there.

Who tells us to cast, on Him, our every care,
And with His will, we tarry long.
'Till we return where we belong.

We're given years to equal petals.
Our hearts grow up among the nettles.
But we survive to seize the day,
When we apply His loving way.

The years pass by and as we fade,
The lotus once so gently made,
Has traveled through the thick of night,
To arrive in kingdom's joyful light.

We realized we never left.
The lotus was a short sweet breath.
Instead we are the light of Him,
Whose pool of life we live within.

Our Shepherd bids His garden grown.
He gathers us about His throne.
Our petals shine, there's no more strife,
Because of His redeeming life.

Sweet Beulah Land

Faith is the oasis I walk toward, to eliminate the worldly exposure of, “why bother? I hear that two word statement too often. I know it because I, myself, have said it, felt it, and cried it into my pillow! Why bother!?

There was a voice that kept giving me an answer, but I wasn’t hearing it. In fact I was a bit concerned about hearing any voice, given today’s agenda of misfit humans. Then one day I stepped into what I call, “my prayer closet,” and politely asked this voice to “explain or leave me alone.”

Don’t change the channel because you think I’m a preacher! One song sung in peace and reverence of G-d means more than any 2,000 word power sermon! I am the way I am because I have chosen a road that leads to that faith oasis.

I am an avid reader of “The King James Bible, version 1611” without a copyright. That means that the company that translated the original voices or languages did not add or take anything away from the 1611 version. That’s what I read. Why bother? Because I really believe there’s a power that’s running everything… He is the beginning of time and the end of time. There are no coincidences… everything is planned out from the beginning. Keep living, “it” will prove “it” to you.

Back to the closet: I had been reading my KJV1611 and noticed a set of verses about having a “prayer closet.” I was reading Matthew 6:5-8:
Verse five talks about being humble, not loud and proud to impress people.
Verse six says to enter your closet, shut the door, make your prayer secret to Him and He will openly reward you.
Verse seven says you can keep it short without vain repetitions, much speaking, and
Verse eight tells you to avoid being proud and that your Father knows what things you need, before you ask him. (All paraphrased)

Okay, so why bother with this? Remember I’m walking towards that oasis where the faith is kept. I didn’t know that the oasis was the faith. That place, that spot that you come to and you feel really content with a higher power running everything. You are no longer taking on the big role of “gotta do this, that, etc.” You are clearing your heart and mind to remain in this faith oasis. Old-timers used to say: “Sweet Beulah Land.”


Sweet Beulah Land

I'm kind of homesick for a country,
To which I've never been before;
No sad goodbyes there will be spoken,
Oh time won't matter anymore.
Beulah Land I'm longing for you,
And someday on thee I'll stand;
There my home shall be eternal,
Beulah Land sweet Beulah Land.
Well I'm looking for a river,
Where my faith will end in sight;
There's just a few more days to labor,
Before I take my heavenly flight.
Beulah Land I'm longing for you,
And someday on thee I'll stand;
There my home shall be eternal,
Beulah Land sweet Beulah Land.

A moment to share...

I was straight from the city, she was country and lore
With peanuts around her, did she have any more?
I watched her intently as each nut she’d toss,
Just missed hitting closely, I counted my loss.

Engaged her in chatting to distract her aim
And hopefully fetch what I craved for my game.
Two nuts would appease me, lasting all night
And try to nab one at the first ray of light.

She whipped out a baggie and placed nuts inside.
Not trying to be nosy, but where would they hide?
The season for harvest had been in late summer
I’d traveled around in my awesome green hummer.

The darkness unfolded I slipped past her tree.
A voice spoke behind and said, “You’ll need these.”
The baggie was full of the best tasting nuts
Now every fall season we fill up our guts!

Seek to help: G-d says when you help feed someone
It is as if you are feeding Him. Thank you,

Fire and Water

I searched for an example of “fire and water” and this photo hit the spot. Purple is one of those colors found to be annoying or is soothing. Yellow is the very complimentary color of purple, being opposite purple, on the art color wheel. There are several tones of yellow which help balance the presentation of the photo. Finally we have the huge display of lightning which picks up more yellow at the water’s edge. Then suddenly we have this almost white space of lightning, where the electrical discharge from the ground, is climbing into the sky.

Look carefully at the lightning’s center. Layer upon layer of color builds toward to you:

· wonderful sapphire at the water and horizon edge reflecting the glow of the lightning against itself
· yellow and green from the dock’s lights cast shadows into the lightning
· Finally the whipping motion of the lightning delivers pale lavender, pink, pink-white, then yellow-white.

The water appears rather calm and maybe that’s the reason why the sky appears on fire. The water has used many other colors to aid in its covert action. It’s a minimum to observe the water’s movement in the channel. The lightning appears to be the focus. The fact that it’s raining over some spots is missed as well by the casual observer. Additionally the lightning is from behind the western landmass, but appears to be biblical in presentation; lightning is discharged from the ground. A small boat, red light shining, hurriedly streams across the channel.

What happened to California dreaming?

Sometimes I wonder if the whole world is burning.
I wonder why the excessive rain doesn't dump onto the excessive fire. Or send it to a drought tortured country?

Makes me ask the question: am I living right? No and that's the truth. Some things I get right but other things still trip me up. I don't see myself as a mentor to be imitated, yet I look at all of the kids in my family and think: what about them? Who will they follow if there are no nice people left on the planet?

For that matter what about the kids in Zimbabwe? How much were they negatively influenced by the "uproarious" election?

How tired and hurt are the children of Dar Fur? How lonely, hungry, feeling unloved, feeling abandoned by family, country, and worlds of plenty? I can only briefly imagine their broken, contrite hearts as those U.S. ships pulled away. To think of that one act of unkindness rips me to pieces!

G-d speaks about those with a broken and contrite heart. You might want to look some words up.

Then again remember that golden saying: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Just try. Keep trying. One spark becomes a roaring flame. Got any dreaming to do? No, then help someone else to reach theirs.
dcrelief

Is it an ill wind or peace

You've likely felt a wind of change
and can we know it's total range
We'll have to wait for it's unfurl
In this small place or in the world

We need to know a way to peace
That gives us strength to fight the beast
A beast that suffers our life rent
A peace to guide or ill wind spent

Let voices shout and join awhile
With no more tears, just heaven's smile
Repent, be free of desires wthin
Uplift in peace your sad ill winds.

http://dcrelief.blogspot.com guest

The past that shaped today

I'm reading a book that is classified "fiction," but often that's not the case. This is my second reading of it; once in 1993. The contents are clearer and more true that then.

I found it dead on for the amount of adrenaline, restlessness, and anxiety I've had... for the last five years. It increases exponentially when I'm upset or worried. I don't know how to explain it.

At the same time I can become calm, like a sea foam skirting my skin as I lay somewhere on a beach. My mind becomes soothed by sunsets and sunrises; something about the pinks, yellows, and golds. There was one picture with a blue sky and strong white flash that sat me down for a long rest one afternoon. And all of these things are in this book. Not the same photos and paintings, but the evoking of the same moods.

Coincidences follow me like a bird in flight, encircling my life and I think to shrug them off. Only later do the strange coincidences occur... actually occur in my real life!

Right now I'm in a chapter that says I have to look at the thoughts and feelings of the millenium before our modern one. Looking to the past will help me know the general thinking of that generation... as they shaped the going forth of this one. It's a fascinating read. Be looking fo part two.


http://dcrelief/blogspot.com

A Rock Cairn Story: Fiction

I do not have any current stories on people using a rock cairn to guide them, so I have created one from my mind. Enjoy!

In 147 A.D. a small group of nomadic people moved across a great plane of harsh landscape. There were no trees; no grass; only dust and a dusty trail could be seen from my mountain top. I waited to welcome them. Toward the sunset they came and immediately rested at the small but deep well.

I was a scribe, a keeper of words, for my own people. I was amazed that they looked so much like my own people. Later by my small fire I would write, “How many people did God make?” Answer: He only made two complete people. So these people must be part of those same two people. I remained by the fire with some guards while these welcomed people were still climbing the rocks to safety for the night.

High in the sky was a full moon, and in the light I could see the cairn: strong, showing the way to our mountain pass. But it was tricky; you could not face it and find the pass. As scribe it is forbidden for me to share more, as those coming here must be hidden and protected. It is our duty and kindness to the maker of people.

The morning would come soon enough and I would like conversing with the leader of the people. His white robe has threads of blue and gold; is he a royal line? He commands his guard to remain off of the sacred mountain. They listen and enclose it as if a cherub has covered us all. It is said of old times that this mountain belongs to the maker of men. My royal guest says that all mountains and all lands belong to the maker as well; man has chosen to forget and that is folly. The maker will reclaim the earth and the meek shall inherit!

Just as the angels suffered the flood, the man shall have his suffering; then the maker will have His family of children to go forth. They will be His for all time; showing forth His creation, His G-d filled creation. The rock cairn will show the way. The end.

http://dcreliefblogspot.com guest

Out of One, Many

I enjoy the summer, and getting out in the yard to weed the stuff that grows the best. By far the easiest plant I deal with it this "Rose of Sharon." And at summer's end there are at least seven plants that have rooted from the main bush. So I transplant them all over the yard. They're all the same purple-pink color but that's all good. So you could say: out of one, many.

Hey, doesn't that phrase sound familiar? Like it's written on our money? I'm not even sure what that's about, but let me share something I recently read about. It will amaze some of you. Others will have already known, and, OH! the problem with trying to share new items of research.

I was playing on the Internet and typed in the following question: "where do white people come from?" Okay for those of you who just dropped your jaws, please pick them up because the answer is going to be important for you to remember... and you may need your jaw to drop again!

There were a great many websites sighted, so I went to the first one and jumped in. He was thorough and explained the DNA testing that accompanied the entire study which concluded: "Technically there is no such thing as 'white' people." He and his group have completely traced all "race" around the globe!"

I know you're not going to believe me so you go type the question in and read away. They'll tell you all about the sunshine you need, or too much of it; vitamin D and it's addition to foods.

I finally got tired of reading the exact same information from ten websites; all different professors, doctors, historians, archaeologists, paleontologists and ministers, priests, etc. There is no race; there is the creation of man KIND and WO-man KIND.

This is the same thing I was taught as a child, so where did these facts go? Further, I was told that as the creature MANKIND moved over the earth that DNA, reacting to various environments, created the various color differences. Melanin...skin pigmentation adaptations. Environmental influence on the DNA transferred from Mother to daughter.

Quite a shocker for those looking for their skin color to build your platform, base your life on, or be considered "better off". Some of you may even cry because your insensitivity regarding dangerous situations for people of color deserves redress.

Of course there's the off-chance that I have offended somebody. I hope so! $620 Billion dollars to build "star wars" and it does NOT work. (Rolling Stone May edition). Dar fur is dying.

http://dcreliefblogspot.com guest

A Sea with Life

A sea with life on every shore
So many rules that gut the core
The people bleed, their dreams seem lost
We make them pay with all the costs

Some die daily, others slowly die
I evoke one question: “could that be I?”
What rules prevent world tragedy?
While other rules give pageantry?

Could I be one who causes hate?
While choosing one I celebrate?
Please let the time be right I pray
Stand with one with changing way

We’re not all right, we’re not all wrong
Yet what we need is growing strong:
We need our studies to exercise care
Remove all blindness to do what is fair.

I’m sick that even God’s own rules;
Are trampled on by dogs with drool
Now I leave but know my heart
Is standing with the brand new start.

http://dcreliefblogspot.com guest

Who's handling world trade now?

Are we going to find out, via a document leak in twenty years the "proof" that this was an insider deal? And just how sweet was the deal?

I believe we already know but it's painful to think that we were scammed... so we don't think about it. We don't talk about it. We're scared of it and the people responsibile for it.

Part of security is taking notes, talking with people, collecting data and evidence; to set up the case which is to come. How fast did that metal move, having been sold, to China? Don't worry, we're going to the Olympics!

I listened to a tape recording made inside of the stairwell; the firemen are trying to get back down to the ground but all these incendiary devices are going off at every level. The tape wasn't hidden and can still be heard today, but not in a court of law, will it?

Meanwhile I'm wondering if this can be done and hidden in plain sight: who's handling world trade now?

The "Graceful" Gift

Silly nieces that give me the strangest but deserving gifts... like this one. Each niece picked a color for the bouquet and it really looked nice. On the card, I laughed as I read: "To Aunt D with love: the graceful gift."

Now you might think this is about my graceful poems, my graceful art, whatever, but these five sent a message of sheer delight, mimicking my graceful walk. So funny and out of the mouths of babes!

Fibromyalgia is an issue for me and has caused me to walk into walls, door jams, even closed doors; there's no discrimination!So it was a family gathering where the girls hanging out in the kitchen, when I walked into a BEAM in the great room. Standing alone, everyone could SEE IT... even I could see it. But I could not walk past it without walking into it. The story of my life: why miss it when you can muff it?

Later I wanted to photograph it but no one wanted me to stand in the chair to hold the camera, hmm, wonder why?

Giving

Today it's easier for me to give. Why? Because I've needed so much over the last twelve years and people have "been there" for me.

There was a time when the only thing that helped me was a trip to the coast; something about the sea and salt improved my life. But my husband did not love the coast but said he'd go for the golf at the Outer Banks. So OBX it was!

I like the sand and sitting out: hot, warm, cold days... whatever. I want the breeze to surround me, the salt spray to splash me and sand like silk between my toes!

So he got the golf cart, I got the blanket, and somewhere mid-afternoon we'd connect.

He's the most giving person I know; has stood by through some horrendous stuff, and sometimes I can't remember our marriage ten years ago. I get a bit lost and though it's not Alzheimer's it scares me just the same.

So if you read something and it sounds really strange... don't worry.. I am strange. It's perfectly normal. LOL

Living Cairns

A friend of mine is "gathering rocks for his cairn? I wondered what he was talking about.

There are several in this photo and long before I knew what they were called or what they were, I'd hiked the area. I remember thinking: maybe someone is gathering rocks to build a house! I could already visualize a stone chimney. Yes, I wanted to “gather rocks for my fireplace!"

Cairns can be found all over the world. They are used as grave markers, markers for the sun's solstices, mark paths to take, and maybe a shortcut to the local pond.
But my friend's story was to build a cairn of people; gathering people to work together in harmonious spirit.

The KJV 1611 version 'says that man does not know the way to peace.'

If we know peace then why has any war ever occurred involving my nation: America? We do not know it!

I'd better get back to gathering my rocks. I hope my friend is having some success with his. Caring people as living cairns showing the way to peace.

One slightly used Rose

One slightly used rose, she wrote in her ad,
And terribly meek, she wanted to add
But deep down inside, she wasn’t that meek
Just troubling and bubbling with flush on her cheek

The years have been fair and this is no lair,
It is only I, with time meant to share.
I’m soft but I’m rough with a life that’s been tough
I long for life’s fullness that begs ‘say enough’

The petals are going I feel them curl up
But I’ll have another enjoy my last sup
So please do not fear to wander in here
For the rose you would hold is wise and is dear.

An Oregon Sunset

Sometimes the sight of a place carries me to it, dragging me like a mouse across my computer pad! Graciously dropping me into the wet sand where I long to walk.

I can feel wetness of the sand between my toes; not too much as the sand becomes impacted, but dried in spots where the tide pulls away from the rocky shore.

Closer now I feel the mist and then wisps of the stronger water, against my face and body, washing in; a baptism in pure salt water!

My eyes are amazed at the combination of golds, oranges, blues, chocolates, and a subtle shadow of black on the inside of larger rock formations. And the sand in it's blandness mirrors the beauty of it all.

What a glorious surprise ending: the sun peeks through to say goodnight. He is yellow, a color for perfect breathing, orange for humanity, and only the sun knows how long he's been peeking through this formation. I cannot imagine it without him.

The Pelicans

There were eighteen flying
in a single row like a huge train across the skies...

dipping, swaying, hugging the coast.

Dolphins were churning the waves and a school of fish were trapped...

they all were fed.

I jumped to my feet, applauding their perfomance of grandeur...
but the sea roared a larger approval...

The first one to go

I wanted again. I wanted again. Within three months... I wanted again!

At least this one helped me de-focus on the main one.

My friend says, "you might as well obssess over 5-6, as much good as for one!"

So I have a plan. Out with the old, in with my new.

Always be the first one to go.

A place to belong

A place to belong...

tis heaven's song

When asked to go

make sure you know

That in your haste

you leave no waste

and love abides in every space.

The Fields of Kandahar

The old man walked; not in a feeble way
To pluck the plants that must be shipped today.

He hates the act that they’ll be sold
To greedy men who think they’re gold.

The stems so green to reach the sky
He’ll cut in half and half will die.

But oh the pain left to the flowers
Their petals crushed for many hours.

The old man’s tears stream down his face.
What G-d gives us they’ve laid to waste?

I say no ill for G-d is judge
Please let me live without a grudge.

Give me strength to use the calm
And voice to sing your every Psalm.


“The Fields of Kanadhar”
Afghanistan 2002

A Lone Healing

A small place, a lone space
my prayers do I say.

Then seagulls come join me
we rush to our play.

The sun arrives glowing
and gentle winds rise.

I stand on my on,
yet learn from the wise.

Do not take too much
do not leave here cold.

Embers now glowing
will pepper your soul.

Return every time
your heart becomes wet.

And find the lone space
that heals your regret.


(poem: dcrelief
painting:flicker-sharing
Ron Niebrugge)

In a world of peace

In a world of peace I want friendship, with lots of big rocks to climb on.

In a world of peace I want a tongue

that speaks kindness.

In a world of peace I want water

to swim and splash in.

In a world of peace oh how I want to

sing and share voices.

In a world of peace to live in God

would soothe my soul.

Jabba the Frog: A Tale of Reality

Jabba the Frog tells a tale of reality:

Okay kid, I’m going to give it to you straight. I’m going to give you the bigger than life clues “why” you feel so__________ (fill in the blank) on any given day.

You are a self-propelled blogger… accomplishing feats of fun and frolic or either the heavy nasty stuff. Just remember that the fun and frolic sell faster. Throw some fantasy into the mix and maybe they’ll toss you back a kudo.

Expose a little leg while you’re sitting there banging them black keys and feel it… really feel it. Uh, whatever it is, but don’t ask former Prez Clinton: “Define “is”… remember that? We sat back and laughed ourselves silly as the prosecuting panel dropped their jaws.

{“Yes! That was a powerful hit as we watch the ball go up, up, and my god it’s out of the park!”} Just a little more leg please.

With all of the self-propelling you’ll want to be challenged or paid attention to, but try not to let the pitfalls take you out. Write about some good stuff. Give something that someone might actually LIKE to read. That morbidity kick you got on is dulling my space. It’s a major downer, and you’d be better off writing about breasts.

Have some fun. Be curious. Be mysterious. Everybody else is… why not? Toss your name… in fact, erase it… in your case it only gets in the way because you think everybody else should play your way; puh-lease. You are not the Zim… get a grip on yourself and stop being so crazy.

#2 Love… in spite of feelings that pass… in spite of thoughts that get lost… in spite of actions regretted… try to love others as you would have them love you. You are free. Enjoy that.