Day: September 10, 2022

May you reach the promised land

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I have loved you and I’ve held you.

Many years,you have been mine;

If the time has come for parting

Let us embrace for one last time.

You must know you have to leave me,

Though you desired a longer stay.

Let me hold you in my arms now

For tonight and one more day.

Then I’ll watch you travel on,love.

We take this last step all alone.

I’ll be here beside you watching.

I shall feel when you are gone.

May you accept, may you surrender.

May you reach the promised land.

Into this earth my tears will fall, love,

As I recall your tender hands

When I saw, with no intent to Luke

I love Picasso, it’s his line,you know
How he evokes the movement fast or slow
The sundered parts arranged in a new form
The image still and yet depicting storms

The unexpecting vision threw me down
My mind was blown and I lay on the ground
I heard no sound except for music lite
For I was in a shop,not an art site

I did not think I’d see great art in there
My fences bypassed by such beauty bare
The light of art burns into human souls
May shatter or fragment, create new wholes

Noone ever knew the blow I took
When I saw with no intent to look

How to Have Closer Friendships (and Why You Need Them)

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/11/20/smarter-living/how-to-have-closer-friendships.html

closeness needs

and attunement,”

Digital art by Katherine

Closeness needs attention and achievement

0 heDr. Johnson said. “When you look at somebody with your full attention, your face muscles start to mirror their facial muscles within milliseconds. If you aren’t giving them your full attention, you can miss it completely.”

This mimicry helps us

Unravelling in lockdown

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/30/style/how-to-fight-right.html

R

While their reactions to arguments differ, both Ms. Brail and Ms. Peng “fight with love,” Ms. Peng said — that is, to choose words carefully so that “we don’t hurt each other purposely.”

Another approach to healthy conflict is the so-called Gottman Method, which is recommended by Nidhi Tewari, a clinical social worker in Richmond, Va. Based on scientific research and coined in the 1980s by the husband-wife team John and Julie Gottman, Seattle-based psychologists.

G

To help the weeds

U
I dream at nights of my old friends
My husband and his loving hands
I dream of all the cats we had
Alfred who slept on the bed
He laid his head upon my foot
As I wrote a poem of love
Jimmy who was small and black
She bit my hand if I got up
I did not wish to wet the bed
She did not understand a word I said
The last night here she gazed at me
I think she knew she would not be
Lucky was the nervous one
Black and white , apartheid none
He liked my husband’s shoulder dear
He draped himself and lost all fear
Now the cats have all gone off
I am frightened by a cough
My husband comes to me at night
Fortunately he cannot bite
He touches me with tenderness
Smiles and wished me,God Bless.
When I waken I feel lost
So I have to wear a watch
I seem to have no solid self
I feel nervous of an elf
I don’t mind an angel sweet
He could rub my aching feet
I will have no other man
They are frightened of women
They don’t like to lose at Chess
They don’t like to wash my dress
They will brush my winter coat
Never ask me what I wrote
I do not wish to anger men
They might shout and bawl again
I think maybe I will turn gay
Ask a lady, what to say?
They may not understand my needs
Killing flowers to help the weeds
Talking all the weary night
On the whole they’re parasites
Also they may menstruate
I can’t give them seeds to take
So they will leave and get a man
This is where it all began
Eve and Adam,God and man
Cain and Abel, apple flan
Noah and his Ark so fine
I wish I had one in the rain
I wonder when the world will end?
I am old so be my friendLOVE
I dream at nights of my old friends
My husband and his loving hands
I dream of all the cats we had
Alfred who slept on the bed
He laid his head upon my foot
As I wrote a poem of love
Jimmy who was small and black
She bit my hand if I got up
I did not wish to wet the bed
She did not understand a word I said
The last night here she gazed at me
I think she knew she would not be
Lucky was the nervous one
Black and white , apartheid none
He liked my husband’s shoulder dear
He draped himself and lost all fear
Now the cats have all gone off
I am frightened by a cough
My husband comes to me at night
Fortunately he cannot bite
He touches me with tenderness
Smiles and wished me,God Bless.
When I waken I feel lost
So I have to wear a watch
I seem to have no solid self
I feel nervous of an elf
I don’t mind an angel sweet
He could rub my aching feet
I will have no other man
They are frightened of women
They don’t like to lose at Chess
They don’t like to wash my dress
They will brush my winter coat
Never ask me what I wrote
I do not wish to anger men
They might shout and bawl again
I think maybe I will turn gay
Ask a lady, what to say?
They may not understand my needs
Killing flowers to help the weeds
Talking all the weary night
On the whole they’re parasites
Also they may menstruate
I can’t give them seeds to take
So they will leave and get a man
This is where it all began
Eve and Adam,God and man
Cain and Abel, apple flan
Noah and his Ark so fine
I wish I had one in the rain
I wonder when the world will end?
I am old so be my friend

The West Pennines

Hennetwistle has a railway stop
The name is Viking now it’s usually spelled
Entwistle, where reservoirs fill up
Manchester wants water, here it’s held

Too Thirlmere is an artificial lake
For tea in Manchester, those thirsty folk
How much more d’ye think that they will take?
Hamlets drowned, dull cypress trees that cloak

I once passed through Darwen on a train
On the way to Ilkley with my aunt
No memory of bliss with me remains
Except the flowers so wild, their ghosts still haunt

Yet nowhere else gives me the feel of home
This landscape is my body and my soul

WILD GEESE ARRIVE

Though we use the language we were born into, maybe creating a completely new vision or description of our worlds; we may even invent new words but we are born into a society and a language which structures our perceptions and relationships from infancy onward

English is a very rich language as it has been formed out of a large number of languages of different peoples who have lived here [invaded] from the Romansonwards. Celtic tribes ,Ancient Britons, Anglo Saxons,Vikings,Normans,Flemish immigrants etc etc.We also have many words emanating from classical Greek.
I think that is because until a hundred years ago Education,for those privileged to have access to it,was almost entirely studying Latin and Greek,[ both language and philosophy from the works of Plato,Aristotle etc]
It you wanted to do maths at Cambridge you did Classics first.So all those higher up,educated, wealthy people were familiar with these languages and the classical authors.They would also be very familiar with the writings in The Bible,but probably not Hebrew,Aramaic and related tongues.The Bible was probably read in Latin until the Reformation.So the English Bible is a translation of a translation at the very least

WILD GEESE FLYING OVER OUR GARDEN

Leaves have gone so suddenly

Small birds float on the wind

Like boats astride a choppy sea.

Their swaying soothes my mind.

Wild geese fly past at dusk again,

They head towards the North.

The holly berries glow in sun,

Holy is joy’s birth.

I gaze intently at the sky,

The clouds hang dark and low.

If I were a mere wild goose

I’d know which way to go

But I am left with just these words

To tell my destination.

Words can carry down to me

Wisdom from past generations

We use old words in unique ways.

We structure them to form

A new design not seen before

A new sentence is born

I send my words with love to you

I hope you safely catch them.

Give me answers from your heart

And I’ll do my best to match them.

Love is not love

Though you and I have loved for many years

Thought you and I have talked and exchange gifts

Whose is the face that haunts me in the night?

Whose memory is torn with cloven rifts?

When sun shines bright and I am full of love

When we walk through the hills blue as in dreams

Whose is the face forever in my sight?

Whose is the mind in which these memories scheme/

For human beings know not our own depths

And follow fancies as do butterflies

Our heart and soul committed are to love

And with love lost we weep and give loud sighs.

For others are deceived but not ourselves

And into that lost darkness we must delve

Plato on drugs? I don’t believe it;I do believe it

PHILOSOPHY_AND_LITERATURE_01

http://becomingintegral.com/2013/09/19/was-plato-on-drugs/t

This is not a book but a blog.It’s really fascinating.not just th above article but for all its other thoughtful

discussions.If you are not a philosopher still many pieces are understandable to the general reader.

Related articles

Words and pictures

cave-painting-wikipedia
Wikipedia:Cave painting

Can a picture be painted with words?Or is the linearity of language a huge  barrier to showing us our complex world?I believe some of the great   poets have been able to carry out this creative task.Poetry is not merely sweet simple rhymes.Starting way back in history we have great writers such as  the Greeks,Hebrews,Romans..   ……….Homer,Horace,Ovid,King David .Plutarch…The Song of Songs may have been written by King Solomon…Not to mention Plato’s imagery of the Cave  and all the Plays/Tragedies .Though a Play is not just words alone I have seen the Old Testament /Hebrew Bible described as being instrumental in the development of story writing.The stories of that people written in perhaps the first ever alphabet,It definitely predates the Greek alphabet.Recall Daniel in the lions den and David and Goliath.Despite  our  anti-Semitic culture as Xtians we have based much of our culture on  their Bible and their traditions
I am interested in why images were banned in some religions
A.N.Wilson calls St Paul the first romantic poet…. not the way we were raised to think of him.Wilson has written a fascinating book on the life of Paul.That’s  where  I saw  his description recently

In the modern era .Gerald Manley Hopkins is a wonderful poet who was only known after he died.
As Kingfishers catch fire,as dragonflies draw flame
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same
Gives out that being,indoors each one dwells
elf,goes it self,myself it sings and tells.
I hope that is accurate.
If a  person can write like that my question is answered in the affirmative

The inherent violence of photography

IMG_0044

Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by photographs is not monitoredlike being educated by older, more artisanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photographed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of confinement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photographic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads — as an anthology of images.

Aesthetic Consumerism and the Violence of Photography: What Susan Sontag Teaches Us about Visual Culture and the Social Web