Miracle. All of it! That’s the sum total of my year.
There are miracles and miracles. It is regarded as a miracle if God does someone’s will. The best miracle is if someone does the will of God.
For two years, I nurtured the pineapple sage from sampling to maturity. It grew into a huge bush, mostly leaves. Pleading to the plant to please, please, please, flower for me; even just one flower. It did not. Maybe I placed it on the wrong side of the garden where it only receives 6 hours of full sun. I thought, next year, I have to give this plant a rest. On the first day of winter, I saw the most beautiful shade of red. It’s flowering despite low temperature and snow.
Oh, baby, baby. Our newest addition to our family, Sawyer, finally moved closer to home, from the east coast to the west coast at the beginning of this year. Needless to say, we are all ecstatic. I am proud to say I knitted this blanket that he is finally growing into. The pattern is called minted square. One square is completely different from the rest — an error – I found out when it’s all finished. That’s okay. Sawyer wouldn’t notice the difference.
The annual camping tradition was not canceled. Thank goodness our provincial park did not close our playground due to the virus. We were good abiding citizens and practiced social distancing during camping. The kids booked their own campsite side by side and we have one big site for communal all day cooking and eating. The pleasure of being simple in the woods, keeping voices low, not breaking the sound of silence, and kumbaya is the balm to these city slickers’ souls.
Just go with the flow, said the stone to the river and I’ll wait right here.
Apart from growing plants, painted rocks are additional ornaments to brighten the garden. Inspirational and spreading kind words written on the rocks such as joy, love, peace, live life pass it on, you rock, gratitude, etc. is becoming the norm. I must say I enjoy reading them.
During the pandemic, people are keener on having pets to keep them company. This senior cat got it made having a human servant to push her carriage around. I am happy for the cat yet feeling a tinge of jealousy at the same time. Jealous because I was thinking of those seniors in retirement, care, or nursing houses where their children cannot even visit them due to the restrictions.
Pay attention to what gives you joy. These gifts of joy are meant to help us during times of desolation.
On my birthday, as the celebrant, I pick where I want to go with my golden ladies. We are golden in terms of age. There are three of us. Trust me, I always take them where the wild things are. This time destination Garry Point. It’s a 75-acre waterfront part with an open and rolling landscape that provides spectacular vistas across the Salish Sea and beyond Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands. Snow geese are ubiquitous in this area. Needless to say, it was another day to remember with the golden girls as we make memories and not count years.
While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.
Two days after my birthday is another day to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos, The Day of the Dead. No better way to spend it in the boneyard on a beautiful autumn day to rattle and wake the skeletons, bring food on the sacred ground to feed the hungry ghost, and blow kisses to the faithfully departed.
If you think long enough about what you see in a cat, you begin to suppose you will understand everything, but its eyes tell you there is nothing to understand; there is only life.
Back at the beginning of the year, I adopted a cat named Grace. I remember when she was a kitten. When I used to stay overnight at her home, I wake up with Grace beside me. She is so adorable, charming, and loving. Lucy loves her. How did she come into my life? Well, because my younger cousin died. She left behind three cats. I don’t know who took the others. With my cousin’s demise, Grace will always remind me of her.
What did I truly find out this year? I found out that 2020 made me live with little of what I have. I laugh at myself a lot. There’s not a hell lot I can do.
Ending 2020 with a high note, I watched the Death of 2020. This is the best monologue that I replayed over and over again.
With no cure for Covid in sight, life for millions has been reduced to a creepy and a seemingly an endless lockdowns.
I live on my own and after a while got so lonely. I developed multiple personalities on purpose, so I can keep myself company. But, then, of course, I had to try and keep two meters away from myself at all times. Don’t know if you’ve ever tried doing that, but it’s a bloody nightmare. So I started doing video calls to keep sociable. I did so many, I sometimes glitch in real life now. Like, I just freeze now and then.
Wicked as what the brits would say. I went to bed in stitches with a smile on my face.
After a while, you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul
And you learn that love doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises.
Weather forecast for the first day of summer. Rain.
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain.
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
Lavender Harvest. A good day. Rain the following day.
After a while, you learn that even sunshine
Burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate
Your own soul, instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers
And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong,
And you really do have worth
And you learn and learn and learn.
With every goodbye, you learn.
I originally posted this title on June 13, 2013, here. According to Dear Abby, it was a poem AFTER A WHILE by Veronica Shoffstall. Much to my surprise, this is my top post and most visited. As a curious person, I wonder who Veronica Shoffstall is?
In my searches, I cannot find a reliable source to indicate that Veronica is the real author. In the Urban 75 forum, this question Who is Veronica Shoffstall came up. Apparently, it was a Spanish poem written by Jorge Luis Borges. With the help of google translating it to English, much to my surprise (again} so it was his poetry.
I really don’t know whether it was plagiarism. That is not for me to judge. I just want to throw some more light into the validity of who I am quoting.
I remember my mother used to tell people that her greatest treasure is her children. She is right, I am one of her thirteen children. Without children, there will be no future in this world. On a low tide, combing … Continue reading →
Ask me a question, and I will answer accordingly. In social media, Aleteia started its post by raising this question: “How long should an engagement last?” It sounds rhetoric to me. I am more interested in the question rather than … Continue reading →
“The Things I Do For Love”; who said that? I would in a good way but this quote came from Game of Throne (GoT) loaded with dark humor which I will not touch upon the details. With me, I went … Continue reading →
“Newgrange is best known for the illumination of its passage and chamber by the winter solstice sun. Above the entrance to the passage, there is an opening called a roof-box. Its purpose is to allow sunlight to penetrate the chamber … Continue reading →
Ireland is a country of Gaelic people and mystical land. I could not understand their thick accent unless I ask them to speak slowly. I don’t know which one has the best accent: Irish or Scottish? There is a Gaelic … Continue reading →
“If you want to identify me,” he says to the British officers who are questioning him, “ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I think … Continue reading →
From animals … to family portrait … to Meanwhile in Vancouver … to In Other Words … to It’s been a long week … to Lens Artist … to Sunday Snippet … to Mental Health, I managed to maintain … Continue reading →
Recently, we were battered by a storm of heavy rain and strong wind. Thank goodness, it wasn’t as bad as we had last year. Electricity and telephone lines remain intact including the tall grasses still standing. Life maybe stormy, this … Continue reading →
To be a mother is to be a Touchstone and the Source, Bestower of names, Influencer of identities; Life giver, Life shaper, Empath, Healer, and Original Love. Poem: God Our Mother by Allison Woodward Art by: Dan S. Siglos … Continue reading →
There’s never a dull moment living with Lucy. She has many favorite places in a tiny bachelor apartment. No need to travel to be entertained. Instead, she amuses herself in simple little things such as this box. Priceless. This is … Continue reading →
Do you hear that? Do you hear your own heartbeat? No. What do you hear, then? Nothing. Do you hear the slug running that is at your feet? How is it that you hear these things? How is that you do not? … Continue reading →
Just can’t get away from these two gals following me like kitty cats. If they were really cats and died in the process of following me, only satisfaction will bring them back. They are very proud of making street photography … Continue reading →
I don’t know who – or what – put the question, I don’t know when it was put. I don’t even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer yes to Someone – Or something _ and from that … Continue reading →
“My mind echoes a chant: Don’t look at your phone. Whatever you do, don’t look at your phone. I sit alone on the bench, outside of a café as I wait for a friend. The lines on each passing face, … Continue reading →
When photographers write about their assignments, I believe them. They can back it up with photos. There were two photographers talking about their expedition in the wild. This how the conversation went as I was eavesdropping. Svtakeiteasy: There is an … Continue reading →
He asked a question: How come you never become a nun? Thoughtfully I responded: I did not hear the call. We were discussing about Mother Teresa when she a heard call on the train on her way to Calcutta, “I … Continue reading →
To lose a pet always comes with anguish. You wake up everyday and there they are. It becomes so much like breathing you can’t imagine them not ever being there. They ask so little of us food, water, love and … Continue reading →
The hummingbird’s delicate grace reminds us that life is rich, beauty is everywhere, every personal connection has meaning and that laughter is life’s sweetest creation. Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time, carrying our hopes for love, joy and … Continue reading →
Welcome. A roll of toilet paper and towel. A supply he received upon entering the frame. His arts live in a frame called “The Hole”. Three out of fifteen I managed to capture, between wiring. The exhibits are all inside … Continue reading →
Cleaning up my bedroom, I have this pasted on my closet as a reminder that life is always a blessing. There are countless ways to feel the gratitude what life provides to us. Our job is to be able to … Continue reading →
Participation is admirable. They came prepared. Armed with nachos, cheeses, chips and juices to fuel their hunger for a long night of participation of asking questions, voice their concerns and listen to other speak about the future of their education. … Continue reading →
It is the land that glows and expands. There are so many possibilities what one can do here. It is one of the most beautiful lands I’ve ever seen. Cuba meaning “Land”. In its simplicity, this is a place that … Continue reading →
One human being, one heart, one love? Our heart is bigger than having one love. But it is Love. For love is boundless. He is now to be among you at the calling of your hearts Rest assured this … Continue reading →
In Cuba, Che Guevara is bigger than life. The Cuban artistically erected a monument for him even though he is not Cuban. Che revolutionized Cuba. No doubt, he is their hero. “Silence is argument carried out by other means.” The … Continue reading →
In the dark corner of the earth, we sat in silence and looked at the moon. She asked me if I can see the moon in Canada. Of course, I can see the moon. The moon has no boundaries. Nor … Continue reading →
I don’t which one is more intoxicating. To take a close up photo of an African Queen Basil whose sweet aroma fills my nose or the smell of a wetness that permeates the earth to quench our thirst. “What would spirituality … Continue reading →
What is it that we enjoy quoting other people but afraid when we are quoted? If you want to quote me, by all means: “Frankly speaking my dear, I don’t give a damn” to quote Rhett of Gone With The Wind. … Continue reading →
This may appear to be a dirty pool of water but for the feathered friends, it means bath time. “You’ll come to learn a great deal if you study the Insignificant in-depth” Odysseus Elytis When it rains, it pours. When it … Continue reading →
It’s winter. I used to dread this season of long days of darkness. Very little light affects my health and mental well-being. I never had this problem when I lived in the tropics where the sun shines. Learning to come … Continue reading →
Artist: Tom Miller 2002 donated to VGH Hospital Foundation
When James Finley was a young monk at the monastery of Gethsemane, he shared with Thomas Merton (who was his spiritual director) his frustration at his seemingly inept efforts to experience God’s presence.Merton responded:
“How does an apple ripen? It just sits in the sun.”
Not that we don’t need to continue to seek God, but by our own efforts alone we cannot achieve spiritual maturity. We must bring ourselves to the Light where God’s grace seasons us into juicy, sweet, flavorful ripeness.
An understanding of ripening basically teaches us the wisdom of timing, love, and patience, and allows us to be wise instead of judgmental.
A zealous disciple expressed a desire to teach others the Truth and asked the Master what he thought about this.
The Master said, “Wait.”
Each year the disciple would return with the same request and each time the Master would give him the same reply: “Wait.”
One day he said to the Master, “When will I be ready to teach?”
Said the Master, “When your excessive eagerness to teach has left you.” ~ Anthony de Mello, SJ
MORSEL: You can preach a better sermon with your life than with your lips. ~ Oliver Goldsmith
“Endurance is one of the most difficult disciplines, but it is to the one endures that the final victory comes. ~ Buddha” Dogs go through endurance test so that owners can have fun with them; dog obedience is one of the … Continue reading →
Why do we say Bless You when someone sneezes? It is habit or plain superstition. I did a bit of research on about sneezing and it all stemmed from the great plague in 6th century.
National Geographic reports that during the plague of 590 AD, “Pope Gregory I ordered unceasing prayer for divine intercession. Part of his command was that anyone sneezing be blessed immediately (“God bless you”), since sneezing was often the first sign that someone was falling ill with the plague.” By 750 AD, it became customary to say “God bless you” as a response to one sneezing.
National Geographic : From Piazza San Pietro, proceed down the broad avenue across from the Basilica, Via della Conciliazione (commissioned by Mussolini to add grandeur to the site), to (4)Castel Sant’Angelo (Lungotevere Castello 50), a round-walled, battlemented structure that today serves as a museum. Commissioned as a mausoleum for Emperor Hadrian in the second century A.D., it was completed in 139 A.D after Hadrian had already died (his body was eventually entombed here). Within a hundred years the building was transformed into a fortress to help protect Rome from Germanic invaders. It got its current name in the sixth century—a time when a plague was devastating Rome—after Pope Gregory the Great had a vision of an angel hovering over the structure, sheathing its sword. The vision was interpreted as heralding the end of the plague, and a statue of Archangel Michael, the rescuing angel, was placed on top of the structure (the present bronze statue dates to 1752). In 1277 the fortress was connected to the Vatican Palace with a covered walkway and became a refuge of choice for successive Popes. It also harbored special prisoners, including the acclaimed goldsmith Benvenuto Cellini, who was accused (apparently falsely) of embezzling pontifical gems. Exhibits in the museum today include weaponry and artifacts related to the building’s long, colorful history.
A bore has feelings. Very often he will interrupt something boring he is saying to comment that he is a bore. His wife comes over and inquires sweetly, “Is he boring you?” If he is, maybe it’s your fault. “Being … Continue reading →
“I will inspire by being ordinary.There are too many “inspiring” stories of people who leave everything behind in order to travel the world. I will tell stories of people who stay, who find contentment in what would seem a humdrum … Continue reading →
What is the lifespan of a computer and a printer? The main computer that I am using and it’s Brother printer are very uncooperative lately and I am not persistent enough to figure out what’s wrong with it. Oh, the … Continue reading →
“To whom it may concern. From Courtenay library. Please find $100.00 for courier back to Courtenay and overdue. I shall contact next week to ensure all is in order. Thanks.”
More than 30 years after he first borrowed Camping and Woodcraft from a Vancouver Island library, an unidentified man has finally put the well-thumbed guidebook back into circulation.
The man, described only as an older gentleman, walked into a library branch in Prince George, B.C. and handed over a copy of the 1965 book Camping and Woodcraft: A Handbook for Vacation Campers and for Travelers, and said he would like it returned to its home in Courtenay, B.C.
Do you have any books sitting around that is long overdue?
“No matter how long we exist, we have our memories. Points in time which time itself cannot erase. Suffering may distort my backward glances, but even to suffering, some memories will yield nothing of their beauty or their splendor. Rather … Continue reading →
“Calvin: Dad where do babies come from?
Dad: Well Calvin, you simply go to Sears, buy the kit and follow the assembly instructions.
Calvin: I came from Sears?
Dad: No you were a blue-light special at K-Mart – almost as good and a lot cheaper!”
― Bill Watterson
“Beauty is more than what we see with the eyes. People are more than their conditions. I am more than my hair and skin. This only shows my exterior”
She Took A Daily Selfie While Battling Depression & Anxiety. The Results Are Truly Astonishing.
Rebecca Brown is a film student from the U.K. In 2007, when she was only 14, she began a project that documented her life by taking selfie photos of herself. Brown is now 21 and she has compiled the roughly 2100 pictures that she has taken into a video on her Youtube channel.
This video documents her battle with depression, anxiety and an impulse control disorder (which is a form of OCD) known as Trichotillomania. (Trichotillomania causes a person to pull out their own hair when anxious).
Brown says that this project is ongoing and plans to continue as long as she can.
For all those people who are inflected by this disease, stay strong and be strong. There is always HOPE and life does get better.
It is useless to try to make peace with ourselves by being pleased with everything we have done. In order to settle down in the quiet of our own being we must learn to be detached from the results of our own activity. We must withdraw ourselves, to some extent, from the effects that are beyond our control and be content with the good will and the work that are the quiet expression of our inner life. We must be content to live without watching ourselves live, to work without expecting any immediate reward, to love without an instantaneous satisfaction, and to exist without any special recognition….
To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything, is to succumb to the violence of our times.
“We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that something deep inside us is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit. ~ e.e. cummings”
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
My life is full of in between times. What I do with the in between times is the most important aspect of my life, for without it, life is meaningless. The in between is ABOUT NOW.
In between reminds me of a good friend that I questioned ” what do you do in between”? That is load full of questions that has so many meanings and can be answered in many ways. Surely, there is so much I can do in between. It is mostly waiting filled with wonders:
waiting in line
waiting for the next meal
waiting for the next vacation
waiting for the next pay check
waiting for the sun, moon, rain, snow
waiting for faith, hope, charity, health, joy
waiting for answers to my prayers, signs and miracles
The list is long. While I wait, so much have happened or not happened, in between.
I just realized that my life is full of miracles from the day of my conception, birth, growing, adding years to my age until the time of my departure on earth is all in between times. During this time, I experienced plenty and filled with gratitude.
Maurice and Lucy
As I defined myself:
Servant of the Lord, first and foremost. Lover of all sentient beings. Maurice and Lucyare my cats. I plant my own garden to decorate my soul, nurtures and keeps me grounded. Hummingbird connects me to an awesome wonders and makes me feel at home. I am a pilgrim on this earth.
So I created this space to share with you my “In Between Times.” It is a continuous series of:
from one moment to the next,
from one thought to the next,
from one action to the next.
“People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the seas, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering. ~ St. Augustine of Hippo.”
“Often people demand a great deal from themselves and their lives and are despondent when reality does not measure up. Milton has long been understood as having offered consolation for this affliction, reminding us that we do not always have a say in the role that we play in the world and that sometimes we must learn to see the service we are giving when we are doing nothing but waiting.”
I hate to say this, coming from the Philippines, the government system is becoming similar to where I came from. And it’s not a good situation.
“If we are not prepared to take a stand now (especially with the partial lockout and the salary reduction), when will we ever stand up to this government? Are we waiting for the government to roll our salaries back even further, to further reduce supports for students, to hold teachers even more accountable than they currently are?”
B.C. Teachers Are Only Asking For What Was Taken Away
Over the last decade, almost $2 billion has been funnelled out of public education.
Over the last decade, public education has had a funding reduction of almost $2 billion.
Over the last decade, our students have been deprived of $2 billion that should have been theirs. The government’s own numbers say so.
Class size and composition wording much like the BCTF is asking for used to be included in the contract. Teachers negotiated for these provisions and took years of zero per cent pay increases in order to fund them. They put their own potential earnings back into the school system in return for these working and learning conditions.
Let’s pause here for a moment to talk about what class size and composition actually mean. The first is rather straight-forward: the number of students in a class. The more students in a class, the less one-on-one attention is available for each student. This has a direct impact on students.
Class composition is a little trickier to explain, however. Class composition refers to the emotional and education needs of students. Some students require more assistance than others to accomplish the same learning outcomes as their peers.
Then, in 2002, the contract that included these negotiated terms was ripped up. The class size and composition language that the BCTF is trying to re-negotiate now was removed. Just…poof. Gone.
Being out of job for the past few days due to teachers’ job action, I am enjoying the four hours of being in the public supporting the teachers during their strike. Meeting people on the street, getting to know teachers and peers, more time to exchange words , playing with dogs at the park, watching all the feathered creatures and enjoying the garden across the office are just a few pleasures that embrace during this tumultuous period.
As part of being in a unionized job, we respect the picket line. We do not cross the line to support the teachers in solidarity.
I have so much respect and admiration for the teachers. They are like the second parent of the child. As a matter of fact, most children spend more time at school than spending time with their parents.
It appears school ended prematurely for the children but the graduating class are still required to take their final exams with or without the teachers.
In the meantime, I will continue to count my steps as I pound the sidewalk walking side by side with the teachers and still have a few laughs along the way.
And it’s not all that bad, actually. The professional staffs are still working to step on the plate that we left behind at the office. On top of that, they come out to converse with us bringing a box of donuts and muffins to fuel our energy.
“What kind of a person does Enlightenment produce?”
Said the Master:
“To be public-spirited and belong to no party,
to move without being bound to any given course,
to take things as they come,
have no remorse for the past,
no anxiety for the future,
to move when pushed,
to come when dragged,
to be like a mighty gale,
like a feather in the wind,
like weeds floating on a river,
like a mill stone meekly grinding,
to love all creation equally
as heaven and earth are equal to all
—such is the product of Enlightenment.”
On hearing these words, one of the younger disciples cried, “This sort of teaching is not for the living but for the dead,” and walked away, never to return. ~ Anthony de Mello, SJ
MORSEL: All Spiritual being is in man. A wise old proverb says, “God comes to see us without bell,” that is, as there is no screen or ceiling between our heads and the infinite heavens, so is there no bar or wall in the soul where man, the effect, ceases, and God, the cause, begins. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays “The Over-Soul”
“For me, personally, it’s not about creating something that looks like a photograph, which is often a moment in time, rather, I want to create work that connects with people and provokes an emotion whilst also being pleasing to look at.”
“I was struck by the closeness of these Barbary macaques to each other and spent a long time watching this couple, pondering the relationships they have and how similar they can be to our own. I want people who view the work to reflect back upon themselves and remember a time when they had the same intimacy and closeness with someone, be it a parent and child, siblings or partners. For me, it’s especially about that intimacy between two individuals where no one and nothing else exists in that moment. The softness of fur embodies the tenderness between them but also protection from the jagged rocks and the outside world. I want to show how feelings for someone special can often help see us through difficult times.”
Artist Colin Prestage created this incredibly tender portrait of two monkeys hugging in a piece called Sticking Together.
It was the year 1998, staying at a friend’s place in North Vancouver, I was in bed, waking up to the breaking of dawn. I closed my eyes, said my morning prayer, and suddenly a violent wind surrounds me. Thinking that I left the window open, the mighty wind will disturb everything in the room. I wanted to get up to close it but my body cannot move, and I fell into deep peace.
This is the detail of what happened to me written in this post.
In 2010, I found this article taken from the journal of Jacques Fesch, a young Frenchman who was sentenced to death in 1957 murdering a police officer. He had a profound experience in his prison cells that lead to his conversion to faith.
Jacques Fesch Journal
When Fesch had his conversion, I wasn’t born yet, but to see that our experience is similar is uncanny. What is it that we were both given this sanctifying grace that is available to anyone, believer or not, saint or sinners, young or old.
From a Catholic perspective, I can only relate to this experience from this verse:
“And suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a mighty wind coming, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. And there appeared to them parted tongues as it were of fire, and it sat upon every one of them: And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and they began to speak with divers tongues, according as the Holy Ghost gave them to speak. [Acts 2:2-4]”
It is a moving experience.
The unbelievable thing about conversion is that the new person that we are become transformed that we joyfully forget the way we were before.
Look at it at this point of view of Shakespeare’s play As You Like It. Oliver, the would-be murderer that conspires to kill his brother Orlando, undergoes a powerful conversion. He confessed, “I do not shame to tell you what I was, since my conversion so sweetly tastes, being the thing that I am.”
“The world is just like a ride at an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it, you think it’s real because that’s how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round; it has thrills and chills and it’s very brightly coloured and it’s very loud and it’s fun … for a while.
Some people have been on the ride for a long time, and they begin to question: “is this real, or is this just a ride?” And other people have remembered, and they come back to us, and they say, “Hey — don’t worry, don’t be afraid — EVER — because this is just a ride.”
A life lived on a twirling, whirling planet near the edge of a spinning galaxy makes for a hell of a ride.
If we’re lucky, it’s sometimes like a ride on a bus with a wisecracking bus driver. But from crib to coffin, it’s mostly a trip into the Unknown.
by Geoff Olson ~ Reflections on light and darkness” Just a Ride” Quote from: Bill Hicks ~ a fairground metaphor for existence Image: Tumblr
I like to contemplate deep thoughts such as What is the meaning of life? Why is the sky blue? Why did the chicken cross the road? Searching for answers via Google, these are some responses from the great thinkers.
Plato: For the greater good.
Karl Marx: It was an historical inevitability.
Nietzsche: Because if you gaze too long across the Road, the Road gazes also across you.
Jean-Paul Sartre: In order to act in good faith and be true to itself, the chicken found it necessary to cross the road.
Albert Einstein: Did the chicken cross the road or did the road move beneath the chicken?
Aristotle: To actualize its potential.
Buddha: If you ask this question, you deny your own chicken-nature.
Emily Dickinson: Because it could not stop for death. Epicurus: For fun.
Ralph Waldo Emerson: It didn’t cross the road; it transcended it.
Johann Friedrich von Goethe: The eternal hen-principle made it do it.
Ernest Hemingway: To die. In the rain.
Werner Heisenberg: We are not sure which side of the road the chicken was on, but it was moving very fast.
David Hume: Out of custom and habit.
Sappho: Due to the loveliness of the hen on the other side, more fair than all of Hellas’ fine armies.
Henry David Thoreau: To live deliberately … and suck all the marrow out of life.
Mark Twain: The news of its crossing has been greatly exaggerated.
Joseph Stalin: I don’t care. Catch it. Crack its eggs to make my omelette.
Captain James T. Kirk: To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.
Fox Mulder: You saw it cross the road with your own eyes. How many more chickens have to cross before you believe it?
Bill Clinton: I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What do you mean by chicken? Could you define chicken, please?
The Bible: And God came down from the heavens, and He said unto the chicken, “Thou shalt cross the road.” And the chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing.
Dr. Seuss: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross the toad? Yes! The chicken cross the road, but why it crossed the road, I’ve not been told!
Colonel Sanders: I missed one?
In your opinion, why did the chicken cross the road?
These things will destroy the human race:
politics without principle,
progress without compassion,
wealth without work,
learning without silence,
religion without fearlessness,
and worship without awareness.
~ Anthony DeMello
kanzensakura: What a nice post! I too am a silver fox – at least I like to think so! My mother says, that after I wash my long hair, blow it dry, and it is all full and glisten white that I look like one of those wild Japanese demons. So I’m sticking with silver fox.
seeker: Japanese demons have long black hair. Yes, kanzen silver fox, stick to this one!
kanzensakura: Some do have the long white hair. It’s crazy. I started getting white hair when I was 20.
seeker: You must be my long-lost sister! Me, too. Spent lots of dinero to stay blue-black and then I decided, enough. The rest is history.
kanzensakura: I was in hospital about 6 years ago for cancer treatment and surgery. I had started turning white-haired early and after a few dye sessions, I decided it was not worth the time or the money. My husband and mother freaked because when they came to the hospital room after I had been brought up from recovery room, my hair was white. I haven’t even thought about dyeing it.
seeker: Hope that the treatment is successful. Not worth it, kanzen. Why hide our singular beauty with false beauty?
kanzensakura: Praise God, I’m cancer free.
I am always amazed when I see people dye their hair, as if it will make them look 20 or 30 still. I know several Asian women in the church I attend who have their hair touched up without fail every month.
One was sick for a while. I saw her before she came to church after her illness and she had an inch of pure white grow-out. She had developed a skin condition and would not be able to have her hair dyed so she was not coming to church until her hair could be – a space of several months.
I smiled and asked her, do you think God doesn’t know what you really look like inside or out?
She looked at me harshly and frowned.
I told her why my hair was white and that I considered it a badge of honor proof that I had been saved from cancer and still had a job to do for God here on earth.
I asked her maybe God is touching you and reminding you, we are all made of dust and to start working for Him in our limited time?
Well, she stopped dyeing her hair. And to be truthful, she looked 20 years older, softer, and more approachable. She became part of a ministry to teenagers, powerful among them and often seems, to be the youngest among them.
seeker: What a wonderful testament. God works in wonderful ways. Love and Prayers to you and yours.
kanzensakura: Thank you
seeker: I am thinking of sharing your comments as testament on faith. Do you mind?
kanzensakura: Not at all because I know it is God, His grace and love that not only did I survive but what is most amazing, is the tumor that was the size of a tennis ball and lymph glands that were all infected prior to the surgery; when the MD went in, the tumor had shrunk and the lymph glands were clean.
My mother and husband said when he came to them after surgery, he was so amazed and kept thinking of scans and x-rays earlier.
They knew a miracle had occurred. I truly do praise God for His love for me.
seeker: God is good, all the time!
” When a woman ceases to alter the fashion of her hair, you guess that she has passed the crisis of her experience.” Mary Hunter Austin The Land of Little Rain,’The Basket Maker’.
“Now also when I am old and gray headed, O God, forsake me not; until I have shewed thy strength unto this generation, and thy power to every one that is to come.” Psalms 71:18
It is true. All prisoners, myself included, constantly wait to be let go. I decided then and there that my captivity would not be merely a time of resignation but a turning point in my life. I decided I would not wait. I would live the present moment and fill it with love. For if I wait, the things I wait for will never happen. The only thing that I can be sure of is that I am going to die.
No, I will not spend time waiting. I will live the present moment and fill it with love.
When the Communists put me in the hold of the boat, the Hai-Phong, along with 1500 other prisoners and moved us to the North, I said to myself, “Here is my cathedral, here are the people God has given me to care for, here is my mission: to ensure the presence of God among these, my despairing, miserable brothers. It is God’s will that I am here. I accept his will”. And from that minute onwards, a new peace filled my heart and stayed with me for thirteen years.
The words of Bishop John Walsh, who had been imprisoned for 12 years in Communist China, Waiting in captivity.
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
We don’t have to go far to find the treasure we are seeking.
There is beauty and goodness right where we are.
And only when we can see the beauty and goodness
that are close by can we recognize beauty and goodness
on our travels far and wide.
There are trees and flowers to enjoy, paintings and sculptures to admire;
most of all there are people who smile, play, and show kindness and gentleness.
They are all around us, to be recognized as free gifts to receive in gratitude.
Our temptation is to collect all the beauty and goodness
surrounding us as helpful information we can use for our projects.
But then we cannot enjoy it, and we soon find that
we need a vacation to restore ourselves.
Let’s try to see the beauty and goodness in front of us
before we go elsewhere to look for it.
“I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes. ~ e.e. cummings”
How much nature do you need? For me, I need it!
When I am not working, I spend most of my time in nature. Being in nature makes me happier, healthier and peaceful. Nature can be just our backyard. One can spend the entire weekend gardening getting my hands dirty. And that’s exactly what I did this past long weekend.
David Suzukisuggests that we take the nature challenge by going outside to:
smell the flowers
find the bug
fly a kite
write and sketch in the park
identify the trees
listen to the wind
skip some stones
get my feet wet
And much more.
More than likely, I will be spending more time outside and it will take me away from WordPress. So my friends, if you don’t hear from me, I’m in the garden.
We have brought up the question: Do scientists pray? in our Sunday school class. It began by asking whether we could believe in both science and religion. We are writing to scientists and other important men, to try and have our own question answered.
We will feel greatly honored if you will answer our question: Do scientists pray, and what do they pray for?
I will attempt to reply to your question as simply as I can. Here is my answer:
Scientists believe that every occurrence, including the affairs of human beings, is due to the laws of nature. Therefore a scientist cannot be inclined to believe that the course of events can be influenced by prayer, that is, by a supernaturally manifested wish.
However, we must concede that our actual knowledge of these forces is imperfect, so that in the end the belief in the existence of a final, ultimate spirit rests on a kind of faith. Such belief remains widespread even with the current achievements in science.
But also, everyone who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science becomes convinced that some spirit is manifest in the laws of the universe, one that is vastly superior to that of man. In this way the pursuit of science leads to a religious feeling of a special sort, which is surely quite different from the religiosity of someone more naive.
“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.” ― Pablo Picasso
An artist brought the Social Studies curriculum to life by reading a variety of legends and showed her own collection of Aboriginal masks to the Grade 4/5 students. She modelled building the mask using poster board, paper mâché, glue, rice paper and paint to decorate the mask.
As the students learn the Aboriginal culture and create their own Aboriginal masks, they make the subject come alive through their own creativity. The project also helps stimulate an interest in other cultures that enriches the students. Art projects give students the opportunity to embrace self-discovery and to make meaning from the world around them.
“Mother’s Day is a personal, family and memorial day. It’s a celebration for sons and daughters; a thank offering for the blessings of good homes.
“Make Mother’s Day a family day of reunions, messages to the absent and the spirit of good will to all. It is a constructive movement emphasising the home as the highest inspiration of our individual and national lives. Mother’s Day is a day of sentiment — not sentimentality; a day for everybody, but is well named Mother’s Day, for where better can sentiment start?,”
If you hate the commercialism of Mother’s Day, then you’re not alone — in fact, you have the ideal person in your corner.
Anna Jarvis, the founder of Mother’s Day, hated it too.
The American woman who single-handedly worked to make Mother’s Day a national holiday was reportedly so disgusted to hear that a department store was having a Mother’s Day sale that she threw her lunch on the floor. Jarvis then dedicated her life to disbanding the day she spent six years campaigning Congress for.
Jarvis’ original intention was that Mother’s Day would be a day to honor the sacrifices women made for their families.
“Music is a world within itself, with a language we all understand. You can feel it, they can feel it, you can feel it all over people” ~ Stevie Wonder Hurry up, and wait. It never fails. My family and … Continue reading →
More than just a character, Holy Molé is a cartoon that represents the place where higher aspirations of existence intertwine with the practicality of everyday living. The two main characters represent this dichotomy and, through their friendship, they find a balance that is essential and love that is enduring. The cartoon is not intended to be religious; rather it represents the archetypical seeker in society striving for meaning in an often-complex world.
Hole Mole reminds us not to take the drama too seriously, or else we may miss the fun – the only true tragedy.
This is nothing in comparison to my fascination with this yellow flower when I first arrived here in Canada. I just love these Lions of the Spring. One cannot appreciate the beauty of Cherry blossoms without having to fall for these beast.
I heard the faint song of the chickadee. It was the female bird looking very pregnant ready to give birth. She was calling for her mate and he eventually came. Being a male, he took his time in responding to her call.
He came to check the house. He turned his tail this way, that way, poked his head inside the hole, tapped the wood, turned some more, moved on top of the house, moved down again on the perch. He was taking forever checking out the house and then he flew away. The female bird was left behind.
Now what! Where on earth did he go? Is he abandoning his future family? What a philandering bird, I thought.
She looked confused. I think I was more confused than the bird and wondered how come he did not go inside the house? She looked so sad. Not her, it’s me that was sad because she flew away as well.
I went out to check the bird house. The old nest was still in there and I don’t see anything nor do I hear anything unusual inside.
Maybe there’s something else other than the old nest. Maybe they don’t like a dirty house. Too man maybe going in my mind and it was actually a simple forgetfulness of doing spring cleaning.
So I cleaned up the house and found out a queen bee inside with a lone slave. Can’t let the queen bee procreate and produce a million minions living in my balcony. Therefore, I let her go and she flew away as fast as she could.
The birds did not return. I will just have to wait for next spring and hopefully remember to do spring cleaning.
“Letting go isn’t the end of the world; it’s the beginning of a new life.” ~Unknown
I would have never thought that these crows can compose a musical score. Through a mere curiosity, this video is created. Just brilliant.
“Reading a newspaper, I saw a picture of birds on the electric wires. I cut out the photo and decided to make a song, using the exact location of the birds as notes (no Photoshop edit). I knew it wasn’t the most original idea in the universe. I was just curious to hear what melody the birds were creating.
I sent the music to the photographer, Paulo Pinto, who I Googled on the internet. He told his editor, who told a reporter and the story ended up as an interview in the very same newspaper.
Here I’ve posted a short video made with the photo, the music and the score.”
This is a photo of a quote taped on a friend’s favorite spot, her desk.
We read it so many times, make up meanings and meanings change depending in our moods. For most time we make fun out of it.
An ant goes round and round without
Like all beings in the six realms of
Born here and dying there without
Now becoming a hungry ghost, then
If you are searching for freedom from
You must hear the sound of one hand.
These are still resonant words.
Take a break from the clamorous rat
race of modern life.
She was searching for freedom from suffering is the focal point of this quote. Freedom means death. And we both just listened for it to come. And it did come for her and I did not hear it coming.
What is the sound of one hand clapping? Well, it’s actually a sign for the deaf. You raise your hand or hands and start shaking them up in the air. This is how the deaf clap their hands. No sound.
Writing can be a true spiritual discipline. Writing can help us to concentrate, to get in touch with the deeper stirrings of our hearts, to clarify our minds, to process confusing emotions, to reflect on our experiences, to give artistic expression to what we are living, and to store significant events in our memories. Writing can also be good for others who might read what we write.
Quite often a difficult, painful, or frustrating day can be “redeemed” by writing about it. By writing we can claim what we have lived and thus integrate it more fully into our journeys. Then writing can become life saving for us and sometimes for others too.