Do we choose what we perceive each hour? Or are we automata clothed in skin, Wh see the thorns and then ignore the flower?
Can we, like grass, be grateful for a shower. Or is our store of gratitude too thin? Can we choose what we perceive each hour?
Can we choose to smile instead of cower? Can we love the game played not to win? Who sees sharp thorns but then ignores the flower?
Do we choose to love or to use power? Can we choose the virtue, not the sin? Do we choose what we perceive each hour?
As we struggle inside Babel’s tower Ambivalence may torture some within Most see the thorns and then ignore the flowers
With softened eyes ,we see the whole sweet bower If we draw near, we see what is now dim Can we choose what we perceive each hour? Some see the thorns but then ignore the flowers.
As Mary ate her topside with green peas,she gazed out of the front window where a police car was parked.They had gone to speak to her neighbours.Her neighbours had 23
dogs and a dead cat .all in the back garden for recreation and making holes in fences or other places
When Mary had come home from the delightful dentist she had been attacked by five of the dogs on her own patio
who were bored with their own garden so has made a hole in the fence as was their wont.
She sat silentky her mind brooding about animals,and their force, as she ate the last roast potato and wondered if she had a pudding
Suddenly a cold wind seemed to blow across the room as Annie her delightful neighbour
had run in without closing the back door firmly
Hello dear.Put the kettle on for me, Mary ordered Annie
I am sorry,Annie said,I have lost weight but even so the kettle won’t fit me
Why do you take things so literally,Mary asked?
I am trying to be funny, Annie muttered indecisively, her blood red lipstick melting down her chin and dripping onto the floor
Good grief, what a mess,Mary said.Hang on, your lips are bleeding
I keep biting them,Annie revealed.
Why?
To stop myself screaming at those people with the dogs.What will you do?
Her mascara from Mix Vector in dark brown began to melt and created streaks across her rose beige moisturising foundation from Bess of Ardent
Are you crying,Mary asked curiously
I must be.I have tears in my eyes.I am over-identifing with your feelings.
Empathy has its limits,Mary said sweetly>I phoned the police and they came here
They were amazed he has 23 dogs.They have gone to see him.
How can they afford to feed so many dogs?
Oh,I feel faint,ring 999
In ran Dave the bisexual, transvestment paramedic all dressed in tartan
Why are the police here, he asked anxiously
It’s about the dogs attacking Mary.
Shall I make some nice strong tea,Dave asked wisely
Good idea, said Annie
How is Emile taking this?
I’ve sent him to my sister’s for a break,But I miss him
Goodness me, what a terrible time we needyou are having
They all went into the lounge and sat down on the grey high backed armchairs
Here is the tea,Dave cried as he put the tray down on a low table.Don’t let it go cold~
Shall I give them some cake, he asked Mary?
Why not, she answered.See what you can find
It is very hard if neighbours attack you,Why, I’ve even read about murders at times like this,Dave cried.
Let’s see how it goes,Mary said quietly.They are not fools
I hope you are right,Dave said wisely
Rolling Stones never get mopped
Evert cloud has a silver lining~
When glum ,keep mum
Amen
Armageddon comes and we don’t find
The time to stop and think and wonder at
The wrath of God, the thunder of his mind
Is he the ground of being undefined?
The earth where seeds are nurtured by his hands
Armageddon comes and we are blind
He is not a sweet and compliant friend
Nor the lord of rich and fertile lands
His the wrath and his the thunderous mind
As the storms washed men off Kentish sands
So God hurls the energy he sends
Armageddon comes and we are blind
In these trials, whose hearts are refined?
Are we open, can we each attend,
His the sun and his the mighty mind
As on the rocky path we wary stand
Below despair, we find the deep commands
Armageddon, love and care are drained
The grief of God, the pity of his mind
I have studied and I’ve got my last degree
My heart has learned its lessons one by one.
I’m a graduate of the grief academy
I didn’t know how painful it would be
When the man you love is here and then is gone
I’ve been studied and I got the third degree
The tears I wept could wash out the Dead Sea
Remove the salt and scour the shore till done
I’m a graduate of the grief academy
I know now I must die,we cannot flee
We turn to dust and that is not much fun
I have studied and I’ve got my last degree
Ii is not News, not for the BBC.
Unless you’re Stephen Hawkings, that great man
We’re graduates of the grief academy
We can’t control life with a self made plan
God is gone though prayer might well begin
I have suffered till I got a new degree
I’m a graduate of the grief academy
Instead of going to the pub to meet men,Mary went on FB and changed her name Unfortunatly her name was also changed on the Page where she was insulted and every where she had been. I have learned something useful, she said to Dave who had come because Emile had rung 999 Better if you had not visited their page,he told her sensibly, then Emile would be happy Yes, she said,each side is as bad as the other,You must either totally agree or be called a vicious Monster.There is no space for debate so why even try? Just then the phone rang Hello, it’s Noreen ,she heard Mary, I am so happy you have changed your name Are you,Mary asked in suprise Yes,my grandparents were Scottish and none of the relatives are left, so as you are partly Scottish too it’s lovely you chose to emphasis that Well, stone the crows,Mary thought.How unpredictable life is.And how one unexpected event led to a good talk with Noreen Well, since Stan is not here,I’d better do some housework. she told Dave On the other hand if Annie and you,Dave, accept my untidiness, why should i worry? After all it’s wonderful finding books I had forgotten I had.Not to mention 30 pairs of tights and my reading glasses Emile looked at her turquoise glasses Can I have some reading glasses Mother? Why? demanded Mary angrily Then they will read stories to me as they can already read Mary wondered how to explain to a cat that the lenses of humans’ eyes become less flexible with age like their minds, perhaps Then she thought of Donald Trump who needs King Canute to explain that no human is omnipotent and that viruses are unable to distinguish between him and another old person even Joe Biden Why the family of the first virus might have relatives near Joe. But how do viruses communicate?They have no voices,eyes or hands Might it be they live in another reality? Do they have minds withour having brains? Or brains without minds Dave ran out of the house wondering how to help Mary And so would all of us!
Isn’t it telling that you forgot?” said Brigid Schulte, author of “Overwhelmed: Work, Love and Play When No One Has the Time,” when I told her I had blanked on the word.
“That’s so indicative of where we are in our culture right now, that you can actually forget what it is to have something you like to do that’s not a) tied to work and b) productive,” Ms. Schulte said.
While researching her book Ms. Schulte realized how many “lifehacks” make hobbies out to be keys to productivity rather than activities just meant to be enjoyed, and she saw that it was difficult for people to get out of that way of thinking.
But eventually, she found that people responded to “neuroscience and research about how you need a space where you’re calm that leads to insight.” Yet even with that knowledge in hand, Ms. Schulte said, people still saw hobbies as means to improve their performance at work. “That’s the only way I can break through to people about why having leisure is important.”
Indeed, Americans’ difficult relationship with leisure is nothing new.
“People forget that when we were negotiating the Fair Labor Standards Act in 1938, there were three conditions people wanted: minimum wage, 40-hour workweek and mandatory two-week vacation,” Ms. Schulte said. We got two out of three, “and we’ve been stuck ever since.” One in four Americans has no access to paid time off, and those who do often don’t take all of their vacation time or they spend their vacations checking email. Many of us have been taught to hate not being productive, and we’ve structured our culture around work, not play.
I would contend that art and culture are the most important vehicles by which we come to understand one another. They make us curious about that which is different or unfamiliar, and ultimately allow us to accept it, even embrace it. Isn’t it telling that those societies most afraid of “the other” — the Nazis, Stalin’s Soviet Union, the Chinese under Mao — were not able to bring forth any significant cultural artifacts? Yet an abundance of work created in resistance to such ideologies can still dominate our cultural discourse.
Mary got all dolled up in her new pink wool dress.She was going to visit her former neighbour Sally in her pleasan and friendly Care Home not far away
Which handbag will match this, she asked her tomcat Emile.She did love a bag of fine quality as did he.
Not a black one, he muttered
How about blue?
Yes cerulean blue is pretty.
Mary put her keys and money into the bag,
It is very large,but never mind
Emile thought, Now my chance has come.
He donned his denim jacket and got a clean Hanky
Then when Mary was powdering her nose he hid inside the gorgeous Enny bag
Powder puff £4 by Barks 2 Often
Buy bag in G bay for £5000
Mary put the bag on her
shoulder and went to the
bus stop
And so will all of us
Soon the bus arrived.She picked up her beautiful bag and almost fell over.It was very heavy.
I am getting old, she thought I can hardly lift my handbag Little did she suspect the truth That Emile was inside trembling in fear in case Mary should drop the bag off the bus.He weighed 5 kg without his fur,so he had been told by the Doctor.
The bus went off and soon they reached Naughty Hall with it’s lovely Cedar Tree and its rose gardens.They got off the bus and walked to Pewter Road where Sally was waiting for Mary.She did not know that Mary had this errant cat hiding in her bag
But she soon will
Mary rang the bell on the front door of Suffolk House.
Come in the receptionist cried.
I have come to visit Sally, Mary told her Is she still in Room 13?
No we call it 12a now because 13 is unlucky
For whom?
Well someone broke a tooth eating nuts in there.
That’s not bad luck.Its stupid to bite hard nuts when you are old.At least it was not some old people having heart attacks while making love That would have made the News.
In the Guardian last week it said that old people could still enjoy sex They advise playing with toys.
Well they could still have heart attacks using toys
Can’t tell you as I have never seen a sex toy nor used one.
We will ask Matron then
Do you think she uses them?
God knows but it is not part of the job description.
Not yet
And so cry all of us.
Sally was happy to see Mary
What a pretty dress she whispered
Thank you said Mary.
Oh, lord your handbag is shaking.Is there a bomb in it?
Who would bomb a Care Home?
A crazy old woman!
That would be stupid.
Oh dear, it’s moving .Oh, God.
The women froze.
The two women stared at the bag.
And so have all of us.
Then they heard a loud Miaow.
It’s a cat.A large one.
Now Emile what are you doing?
Can’t breathe.Let me out, mother.Quick.
Are you the cat’s mother, asked Sally?
Not literally, Mary confessed.
She let Emile out and it was a lovely treat for Sally.She had not touched an animal since her husband died 6 years ago.
She usually preferred dogs but Emile was such fun
And so are all of us .
Then Mary decided to go home with her cat but he had to walk to the bus stop because she wasn’t going to carry them in her handbag
Sally I have to say goodbye now. I need to get home and someone is coming to see me tonight nk
So you are lucky sorry soon I wish someone was coming to see me but maybe my son John will be coming tomorrow
Mary walked along to the bus stop will her cat then she saw a car stopping.
It was her neighbour Michael.
What are you doing with your cat up here?
We have been to see Sally my friend in her care home and now we are going home home
I can take you said Michael
St. Mary and her cat got into the back of the car along was Mary’s handbag
Then NH NH in 10 minutes they were back in their own neighbourhood and Emile was especially delighted
I will never get inside Mary’s handbag ever again, he vowed even if Sally has never touched an animal for 7 or 8 years. It’s not my fault but they have no animals in the care home..
and at that very moment a very kind lady called Dora was scrubbing Sally’s room when they when they realised that a cat has been inside it
Cut off from humankind in my dark well Unimagined death had my love scorned I lay grieving in a prison cell
How did I get here, am I in hell? My soul was leaving from my body warm Cut off from humankind in my dark well
Shall I too fall where my lover fell? I felt such pain,I was a skinless worm A person grieving in a prison cell
I did not wish in this black place to dwell I felt a force that pulled till my heart tore Cut off from humankind in my dark well
In despair I had no thoughts at all Until a golden light around me formed To hold this person grieving in her cell
In gratitude great tears ran as I learned Love had followed me when I was harmed Cut off from humankind in my dark well The ladder of his thorns broke my death spell
Originally developed by Autodesk, Sketchbook has become a popular choice for many. It has a clean, uncluttered, and easy-to-navigate interface. If this is your preferred app on your computer, you’ll be right at home using it on your mobile device.
Many of the longest-lived cultures with very low rates of dementia are getting close to nine or nine and a half hours of sleep a night, which sounds ridiculous for most of us. But we do have to stop thinking of sleep as a waste of time. Now I track my sleep with my watch and I’m very diligent about it. I get at least seven hours a night.
Turn back, live again, he asked of me
Do not wander in this darkness anymore
One false step might give death victory
We are each connected to that tree
The sunlit top, the roots hid in earth’s floor
Come back, live again, he asked of me
While we live, we’ll live with dignity
Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore
One false step will give death victory
The kindness of the golden light was clear
And left an image in my mind’s deep core
Come back, live your life, he then soothed me
Do not wonder now why you are here
We’re here to live and living shall restore
What our suffering self has found so dear
I had never seen the Light before
Only Christ the Tyger with his roar
Come back, live through pain, he asked of me
One right step will give love victory
In my despair I felt that I was stuck Paralysed by grief and guilt I failed By the end I had tried every trick
From prayer unthought to deeps of logic black My life, my engine ,juddered off the rails I hated God and of “his” Church was sick
Starving and alone I was in shock The death of one I loved had made me frail By the end I had tried every trick
I felt Love’s arms around me, death was blocked I knew this goodness, why else would I wail? I thought I hated God but Love had struck
Warm and golden light that did me hold Where are you now when Evil has grown bold? Kind despair that made me long time sit By the end I learned Love needs no trick
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present with your Light
Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.
Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes You were always there,oh gentle Light
You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe? I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.
The agony inside me lost its bite
I wanted to go on, to be alive You do not always show your golden Light
We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time I never saw such Gold until that night
“It has been an old comparison for our urging on – the Beehive; however, it seems to me that we should rather be the flower than the Bee – for it is a false notion that more is gained by receiving more than giving – no, the receiver and the giver are equal in their benefits. The flower, I doubt not, receives a fair guerdon from the Bee – its leaves blush deeper in the next spring – and who shall say between man and woman which is the most delighted”
I wish I were on Hutton Roof again The limestone and the little open flowers The sea at Arnside like a distant gem The spaciousness, like days with far more hours
I wish I were as agile now as then I’d climb the mountains, hills,the little lanes
Windermere below still winding on The handsome Lake,the old man, Coniston
I wish I were in Dent, the curious shapes The hills and their deep mystery engross The height, the little river, the mistakes The lost loved man alive, to hold me closeI
I yearn to be on Hutton Roof today The holy smell of grass, the feel of air
“Wink goes on to examine the phrase “if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also.” Why, Wink asks, does Jesus reference the right cheek specifically? The answer is both challenging and enlightening. Jesus lived in a right-handed world where left hands were reserved only for unclean tasks. Therefore, we can see assume that the person doing the hitting would have used their right hand. The only way to strike someone on the right cheek with your right hand is a backhanded slap. Such a blow connotes an insult, not a fistfight, and was a normal way to reprimand someone over whom you had power (e.g. masters to slaves, husbands to wives, Romans to Jews). To strike your equal in such a manner was socially and legally unacceptable, carrying with it a huge fine.
With this new understanding of the context Jesus was speaking in, picture the scenario with yourself as the oppressor. You are a wealthy, powerful person whose slave has displeased you in some way. You reprimand your slave with a backhanded slap. The response you expect is the response you have always received from your slaves – the response you yourself would give if someone higher than you treated you the same way. You expect your slave to cower, submit, and slink away. Instead, your slave defiantly turns their other cheek and challenges you to hit them again. What can you do?
You would like to give your slave another backhanded slap to show them their place, but to do that you would have to use your left hand which would admit that your action is unclean. You could hit them on their left cheek, instead, but it would be embarrassing to hit your slave the way you should hit your equal. You’re confused. You don’t know what to do. Flustered, you could order the slave be flogged, but the slave has already made their point. They have shown you that they are a human person with dignity and worth. You don’t own them, you cannot control them, and they do not submit to your rule.
And so, in light of Wink’s insights, Jesus’ instruction not to resist evil and to turn the other cheek transforms from an instruction to accept injustice into a challenge to resist systems of domination and oppression without the use of violence. Rather than ignoring an evil situation and hoping it will go away, Jesus is telling his followers to find creative, active, and nonviolent ways to assert their humanity and God’s love in the world.”
Ms. Caudill and I then went to a conference room to discuss music therapy with my husband, Don, and our friend Alexandra, who has engaged in music ministry. Music must be an especially effective form of therapy, Don supposed, because it directly expresses and creates emotions. Alexandra agreed. Singing in a choir for and with people impaired by dementia, she has witnessed elderly men and women who could not remember their own names recalling verbatim the words of beloved hymns.
“Music lights up neurons between the right and left hemispheres of the brain,” Ms. Caudill said. “It can also aid in neuroplasticity, helping the brain form new connections.” A stress reliever, music is used to recover speech, improve walking and assist in the retrieval of memories. Popular and classical melodies can be infinitely modified to meet various backgrounds and tastes.
Sometimes depressed patients are encouraged to compose new lyrics to a favorite song that can then convey their reactions to their condition. Ms. Caudill recorded a lymphoma patient singing her version of Shawn Mendes’s “In My Blood” and upon discharge gave her an MP3 of her new “anthem”: “Sometimes I feel I should give up, but I can’t. It isn’t in my blood.”
Inside my mind I dream of pearls, Caterpillars,snails with whorls. I dream contented, all enwrapped; With reverie and dream I’m lapped. The inner seas will comfort me, While gods refine my eyes to see
Oh,sweeter than confectionery Is my Oxford diction’ry. The words whirl round then fall to shape The sentences which my world make. This furnishing is rich and strange And magically self arranged.
Oh,sweeter than the love of man Is reading works of poets long gone; Feeling deeply their dark tides .Upon which our boat may glide. The infinite sea we float upon Is the same warm sea the ancients swam
Sweeter still is the spring air And the blossom spreading fair We’ll drown our selves in grassy fields To the gods of poetry yield.
We’ll rise again and spring up tall To grow more rich until we fall. Then we’re compost for the worms God enlighten these my poems
