“For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength” (Phil. 4:13).
Making changes and facing challenges can often brings thoughts of fear. Can I really do this? What if I fail? What will others think?
Changes and challenges. Sometimes when I face a change or challenge–like when I confront someone, change jobs, or re-evaluate priorities and commitments–I feel paralyzed with fear. Then, I spend more of my energy dreading the inevitable than actually “doing it.”
Deadlines. In college, fear often overwhelmed me at the beginning of a new semester or when I faced a deadline or test. I would think, How can I possibly do all this in just a few weeks or days? How can I remember all those details?
Success. But I found success as I took each assignment or test one at a time. And then, when the next test, assignment, or semester rolled around, and fear attempted to paralyze me again…
An interesting article about the benefits of writing and how you get more healthy.She seems to favor handwriting which I like to do as well.I write poems at night with a pen
.Quote:For me the personal turning point was Pol Pot. Very few knew at the time about Auschwitz. Yes, there were bastards who knew, there were sons of bitches who knew and who didn’t believe it, but they were a tiny number. Nazi secrecy on this was fantastically efficient. The killing fields were on radio and television while they were going on, and we were told that Pol Pot was burying alive one hundred thousand men, women and children. Now I cannot attach honest meaning to the phrase “to bury alive one man, woman or child.” One hundred thousand! I almost went out of my mind in those days with bitter impotence. I was obsessed with the hope that Russia and America would say, “We don’t know what the rights and wrongs of this incredible geopolitical mess are but forty-five years after the Holocaust or after the gulag, we can’t shave in the morning, we can’t look at ourselves, knowing a hundred thousand people are being buried alive; the razor doesn’t work on the skin. No woman can put on her makeup and think of herself as human. If you don’t stop this, we’ll come in.” I’d hoped ………….
By my bed – À cabeceira (Photo credit: * starrynight1)
Intriguing article about love,attachment and desire.Attachment has only been acknowledged since the work of John Bowlby and Konrad Lorenz.Lorenz had several geese bonded to him
My frame has gone for a test again
Gang slang… no bells rang in my head
Let the ball start folding when you reach the boundary value problem
Set your life with gelatine.
Polish your shoes with cream of calculi
Get a broomstick on wheels.. you’ll bebewitched
Get a bird in the hedge to tell lies for you
Get a call mucked up by Nogaphone
Get a briar full of sorrow to smoke
Get back into the hearse,sir
Let her get out while the rowing’s in a flood
Met a crotch down the close once.In a clinch
She has that frown without words.my days are jumbled
I never let it disinfect me
Tetalogue or decalogue…it’s up to la rue now
Did you believe in a Sacred Rod?
Please set me off now .I’m a clockwork collage
They set out from my hedge but it’s not my defeasibility
Get out of my bier…I just need to be alone
Get out my hair.I have nits already
Get over my rump now
What a nook for a love in.Who shall we loan?
Drink to his ass for it is perfectly tensed
Get up off that cat,,,I need it to kill a rat
Sex with a slogan.Lust if you must………..but do not ever dust
Sex and you both harm me
Get your luck into flow…Mihail told you so
Can feet laugh?
English: Boundary value problem for an arbitrary shape (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
English: Poppies and cornflowers in Jubilee Park. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Cornflowers (Photo credit: simone-walsh)
English: Buttercup meadow The shorter creeping buttercups (Ranunculus repens) are most popular in this field however patches of the much taller meadow buttercup (Ranunculus acris) are abundant. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Underneath the deep sky,sweetheart,
You shall be the one.
You were with me in the dark
When all the rest were gone.
When the trees grow their green leaves,
I’ll love you all night long.
When the flowers fill the cornfields
Love shall be our song.
Poppies red.and linseed blue
Shall decorate my dress.
Hold me in your arms tonight
While I my love confess.
Meadows filled with buttercups
Fill my inner eye.
I love the scent of minty leaves
When my mind is all awry.
I see the sun through closed eye lids
And rose scent’s in the air.
Wherever summer joy comes from….
We have had our share
I’ve been struggling with how to write this post for some time, knowing that it was inevitably coming. On the one hand, this feels so incredibly personal to me, and I feel some unease in talking about it in this somewhat public medium that is read by people with whom I normally maintain some sense of boundaries. Like my professors. Or my parents. Or Miko’s teachers. And on the other hand, writing this blog has been such a gift to me, for which I have been doubly reinforced. First, by the act of writing itself; sharing my personal process has been instrumental in moving me through it. Creating something, even if it’s just this electronic account of my feelings, during a time in which it is all too easy to only think about sickness and death, has fed me in a way I can’t quite describe. And second, by the…
Fennecus, vulpes cavaiissima cum auribus maioribus. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Body Farm (Photo credit: ZenOptic)
Amyloidosis, H&E Most of the amyloid consisted of acellular pink globules that effaced and expanded the node, but this image shows the characteristic involvement of blood vessel walls (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Throughout my years of painting and teaching, I have heard many times the frustration of those who would like to explore their creativity, but seem unable to establish consistency in their work.
Remember it’s better to do a quick warm up exercise for fifteen minutes a day than to have marathon painting sessions twice a year!
I would suggest three elements be put into place to do this exercise.
1) Pick the same 15 minutes every day – make sure it’s a time that works for you.
2) Set up a small table, such as a card table, which doesn’t have to be moved or cleared.
3) Turn off mobiles, or any other potential distractions.
It takes 28 days to form a new habit. If you follow this simple format three things will occur….
Consistency, technical skills, and most importantly observational skills will improve.
At a time, when those British soldiers killed in war are remembered, it is salutary to focus on why many of the WW2 generation are so nervous about the parallels between the 1930s and now.
“What no one seemed to notice,” said a colleague of mine, a philologist, “was the ever widening gap, after 1933, between the government and the people. Just think how very wide this gap was to begin with, here in Germany. And it became always wider. You know it doesn’t make people close to their government to be told that this is a people’s government, a true democracy, or to be enrolled in civilian defense, or even to vote. All this has little, really nothing to do with knowing one is governing.
What happened here was the gradual habituation of the people, little by little, to being governed by surprise; to receiving decisions deliberated in…
cat (Photo credit: Kenny Teo (zoompict))English: Bust of Nero at the Capitoline Museum, Rome (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Call it a day…. to a depressed i person it seems like a century,even a millenium,
So being depressed prolongs life!
I called off the frogs,but they didn’t speak English so they were all over her supine body.
I called her a bitch on the warpath so now I sleep in the coal shed.
Call her the hottest woman in the town and she’ll wonder how you can know
Can it bark?Can it teach exponential nonsense? It’s a brain dog
I had can of worms on and my wife ate them raw…… made me feel dead weird.
I said ,can dogs bite,not I want a pint!But since you asked….I’ll have five pints and the dog will have a pot of tea with no sugar.Bedankt voor yer mutter
She smiled as she opened her can of charms….she keeps them hidden deep
Why can’t you have your snake and beat it ?
Why do they say I can’t hold a candle to his ex-wife?I’ll hold an electric fire to her…I’m evil now as being good harmed me.. and how!
I can’t nudge a dirty book under the bed cover since we got a duvet.What is the answer?
I can’t learn to swim without seducing his daughter…I mean,warming the water!
I can’t say anything rough about him, you know…. he’s got a big fist and I have two black eyes already.I can’t have three!
You can’t tease blood out of a hare’s lip… ..don’t you have yur own blood?
You can’t teach an old bag like me new tricks,so it’s the missionary’s precision.
Can a woman carry a sunbeam?It’s light and they’re fantastic
Because of the dancer flaming up on stage. a fire was lit and it was like Nero was back on earth.I even played my violin.Actually it was a cello but the heat shrank it..I am being dishonest.It only became a viola.The strings are just one octave above the cello’s
He gave me £100 per stroke….now he’s paralysed
Cash in on your hips and have a baby
Cash is flung out daily from the top window… then it’s blowing in the wind,as it were
Winter casts a long shadow on me… it’s my fiancee following my ass
The cat got my wedding ring.I was totally mute… then I said,Are you getting married and the cat answered:Well a cat may look at a ring!I hope the cat leaves my mobile phone alone.?I saw her kiss it once when it played,Sally,Sally,queen of our alley,you’re more than my whole world to me
I spent a great two weeks at home. I concluded my time away with a wonderful weekend in Seattle where I attended a poetry weekend, along with about 150 others, facilitated by David Whyte. A major theme was asking beautiful questions: questions we need to ask that show stories in our lives that are possibly outdated. We open our eyes for what appears to be the first time and there is a renewal.
An important part of beautiful questions is they guide us towards new horizons. We feel grounded by home’s foundations and drawn forward from that stable place in imaginative ways. There is something spiritual and biblical about this feeling as we find the courage in our hearts to let go in ways we had never imagined possible.
Until the very end of time I’ll be loving you.
Until the end of all my rhymes,I’ll be writing you.
Until the day I die,I’ll be unintentionally annoying you.
Older and older,I’ll never leave you,but I will,no doubt, grieve you and deceive you,misperceive you.
Otherwise I’ll think of you,wink at you and make a hyperlink to you
Still,for ever,I’ll be all over you..looking for fleas in your floes, and
B’s in your Y’s.
I’ll be looking for tears in your eyes
and making you feel surprised.
That’s a love poem,innit?
Well,innit?
Wot!I’m British,innit!
Oh, geddit!
Lear Book of Nonsense 106.jpg (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
He’s sadder than a wet fountain pen;find his cap!
A man with no hat is like a cat with no whiskers.. he has nothing to guide him through the park
I said it with the cap of my breathalyser off.
He’s made of honey I can smell it!He’s attracting all and sundry….quick!
Why not have an outing to a Dole Hill and stone the crows,as it were?
Letters,they make friends meet in the spirit
I wait for dead fiends or start gales…what’s your goblin doing?
Wake up with a tree up your sleeve tomorrow.
We make no bones about breasts.
Make haste or streak to the town alone…I have stolen your clothes.Signed,your wife.[The unnamed woman in your bed]
They make out,like,a man created the world as God was depressed for aeons.He didn’t even want to get better.Do you believe that?It#s the plot for my novel
They made me grade students so I buy watercolor and grey t hem instead … fifty shades of grey plus mixes!
Make cracks about my poetry and I’ll never leak to you again
Please make me up,Lord.I am your creation,so they say.. so make me betterer
I made Waves for Virginia Woolff and created Mrs.Halo-Hey-Grey in many shades and colours….I’m a genius,in a very real sense
I make you move like no other human… you’re a guerrilla in bed
Religion makes my blood turn to oil.A miracle!I believe a brawling bird… above the storm would still be feared
Faking love sent me round the twist…I invented modern dance.why,i was in a frenzy all night.
A man,for all sorts of reasons,may wish to turn into a woman and vice versa.So if you both marry transsexuals you will be fined.Or redefined as the case might be.
A man’s home is his hassle.
A woman’s home is not her own but hey,that’s good…She gets to live rent free in exchange for being a slave… who could ask for more?
You’re joking…. no,smoking!You’re on fire.I am not a liar.
Seventy years went by mumbling,tick tock tick tock.Why not ask for mercy?
Did they ever say?Who was Sylvia? Nobody special……but someone loved her,at least.
The Lindens of Poissy, by Claude Monet (1882). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Claude Monet, photo by Nadar, 1899. Français : Claude Monet par Nadar en 1899. Türkçe: İzlenimcilik akımının öncülerinden olan Fransız ressam Claude Monet’nin, fotoğrafçı yurttaşı Nadar tarafından 1899 yılında çekilmiş fotoğrafı. 1840 ile 1926 yılları arasında yaşayan Monet, bu fotoğraf çekildiği sırada 50’li yaşlarının sonundadır. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I know that's how death will come,
Suddenly flying into another orbit
when I am photographing flowers.
It's not a gentle transition.
No-one will know where I've gone.
One step wrong and I'm
off the high wire
And plunging into the no safety net.
Flying for a while;
Jumping into hyperspace,spinning electrons
Startle my grey eyes.
Transiting the new black sun
I'm on a double gold helix,
Spider on your web,
Knitting furiously
Into the future heaven on gossamer wings.
Butterfly goodbye,I'm off to see the stars.
And the black holes.No one will come with me.
I'm shaking off,evaporating into mist.
I'm a flying saucer on a circus mission.
I can't say no to a new invitation.
Make it fast and break with tradition.
Time is passing smoothly till that break
In the music,I've been transmuted into a different key
someone else will play me on their violin
I'm a tune,
I'm a thought,
I'm a whisper in your vision.
Goodbye,darling.I'm under orders
Ready to leave for my performance
On the electric carpet.
Death dancing to a tune on a violoncello,
Arpeggionne sonata
I'm playing your words upside down
In a new foreign translation,
Accompanied by solo artists,ice cracking
I'm going in.It's too sudden.
I'm flying.
Spinning faster to amuse the clowns,
too many ups and no downs.
I'm going right out of orbit
I've broken the pull of gravity,
And fly with pure equanimity
Into my future life,
I'm off at some moment.
An instant ,a crack,a loud smack.
That was me passing,
When I saw you waiting in that cafe
I knew you would be mine.
You were handsome, smiling,funny..you were
specially designed.
You looked like men I’d only dreamed about in all those years before.
I’m so broke up,so broke up;you don’t love me anymore.
I knew you would be mine.
You were handsome, smiling,funny..you were specially designed.
You looked like men I’d only dreamed about in all those years before.
I’m so broke up,so broke up;you don’t love me anymore.
I saw you on the station as I came from out the train.
You wore an old green parka to protect you from the rain.
I wanted to be one with you,to make a Love entire;
But all we did was create pain too bad be endured/
You walked away so quickly,I could not see you long.
I wish I had a big guitar to draw you back with song.
I looked at where you disappeared;what love has loss revealed?
I wish I could just lay down on this floor to keep my face concealed.
Railway stations sadden me, for I know we’ll never meet .
I won’t cry more,for tears are running straight down to my feet.
I walk fast looking straight ahead past that entrance gate,
I pretend that you have missed your train,that work was running late.
I count from one and one up to a thousand million more–
But I know for sure it's far too late; you have closed that heavy door.
You are hiding in a dungeon
You are covered with white steel
But I know you had a heart and you must surely feel.
I lost all my illusions, and then I lost some more.
I wish I could lay down and die,right here on this floor
A Butterfly on a flower (Photo credit: Wikipedia)Butterfly on flower with fake eyes on the wings (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The butterfly is like a flower
which moves its station every hour.
Oh,happy is he on the wing.
The vision makes me quick to sing.
The flower is open in the sun,
And to its heart, true love shall come.
The bees shall feast and fly replete
With nectar they are now full sweet.
I sing of color and of love,
Blessings that rain down from above.
I wish to be a flower too.
Ah,that the bee could but be you.
Biltmore Art Glass Glow (Photo credit: cobalt123)At the remembrance garden in Dublin (Photo credit: Wikipedia)The “feather-robed archer” figure in the 1968 flag is inspired by Assyrian Empire period iconography. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
We were sitting by the window
gazing at the trees
You began screaming:
The house is under attack,
A storm is coming up.
The glass will shatter
We’ll be stabbed.
We’ll be killed
Looking out I saw only the bare branches
Of the maple
And two wood pigeons in the fir tree
were chuckling to each other.
The wind had not changed.
I know it’s midwinter with the bitter
breeze with an edge to it like a knife.
The sun low like an almost empty glass of lemonade.
Sending light through the forsythia onto the old fence.
I turned to you puzzled
Reached out my hands to comfort;
But you shouted
Keep away
as you grabbed your thick coat
and ran from the back door into the dark woods.
If there was real danger,why did you desert me?
Afterwards you told me of bad news you’d had.
Seemed like the inside and outside got confused.
I became a Fascist.I was a flaxen Anglo-Saxon.
I was Hitler’s grand-daughter.
I would break my glass and cut your face
with the jagged edges;
And, unlike science,
We can’t go back and repeat the experience
as if it were an experiment.
If you’d stayed a few minutes more
You might have realized
You were half asleep
And dreaming.
Once gone,you’d probably never return
To the house where you thought the glass splintered
into shards and cut you to shreds.
I don’t blame you
We are often deceived by our imaginations
We see not what’s here
But what we most fear.
And flee the human contact
Which alone might help.
I always leave the door ajar
And some food on the kitchen table;
In case you come back hungry and tired
It was your mind that shattered,not the glass…
And that’s much harder to mend.
But it can be done
When you stop struggling
And let the inner seas flow free.
You needed a hand
But closeness also frightens you,
And,besides,my hand is not strong enough to hold you.
Only to touch you gently
To say how sad I am
100 novels everyone should read – Telegraph.
.Lorenz had several geese bonded to him
Oh,yes,I do lovely handwriting
Until the very end of time I’ll be loving you.
Difficulties do not deter these late roses as they bloom in winter
How my heart sings 