The above is from: storycorps — May 03, 2010 — Read more great stories of amazing Moms in the new StoryCorps book! http://storycorps.org/book Joshua Littman, ...
Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers
And mothering spirits sharing this small blue orb with me!
For those who've given another human birth or those of other species
Who have given unconditional love, nurturing support, a listening ear
For all who have given every ounce of their strength for a child of their heart,
For those who have sung sweet sounds to another,
Those who've prepared food with love, who've given shelter from the storm
(Thanks, Bob!)
All the ones who give their lives so that others may live
Or be born through them into this world of swirling, dancing forces
To better themselves and work to develop, to create, to grow
Those who teach by example and through the medium of grace & love
I have a mother, to whom I am eternally grateful for my bones, skin, eye lights,
For the stories of my legacy, for the needs and creative kindling given.
And many others have mothered me along the way when I needed it most,
Even when I didn't know it at the time.
Women, men, children, babies, animals, all have been mother to me
In some significant way that changed my life by the realization of
Their unconditional offering.
My gratitude knows no bounds.
Today is just a day to say these words... I thank my lucky stars
Every day for my mother and mothers and yes, Mothers Earth and Nature~
Your bounty exceeds what any have the right to expect, and it is time
For us to mother you for a long while too.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2009/apr/04/family-holidays-britain-fantasy-attractions **************************************
“Well, George, what do you think?”
“It’s hard to say, Frank… that hill over there’ll be in the way – that ground needs to be flattened for these units to go in on time.”
leadis tensed her fingers as the men’s intent turned crystalline in her mind. The rough-hewn strangers leaned on their lone gate and discussed her timeless bit of hill and dale as if it was but a bit of dead fish still flopping on the earth. Like nothing at all.
Two turns of the sun behind, this happened: she’d returned from the edge of her lands farthest from her hill. She found an iron gate along the bit of path the deer trod by.
Flying over to see – she alighted, but the iron bit into her, burning her flesh, and she moved off to a lilac tree close in to the conversation.
“Dan gets his backhoe in here, shouldn’t take more than a full day’s work,” Frank considered. “Do you remember when his schedule frees up again?”
“I’m thinking it’s near to 4 July, he prattled off.
‘Do these men never experience joy?’ leadis wondered.
It was up to her whether she might show herself to these humans or not. She was not bonded to them, so they couldn’t detect her. She decided to take matters firmly in hand; clearing her mind she directed her will to make a sharp voice resound, like hundreds of tiny ancient bells that rung… when she was small.
“Kind sirs, will you be telling me what you’re about as I’m true enough the caretaker of this hill and the lands about?”
Confusion unfocused their eyes. It transformed into a growing fear. They glanced around in staccato for what might make that sort of sound straight from earth below. Their feet told them nothing.
“You’ll have to be casting eyes upward to see me!” leadis teased. “I’m over here, on your side of the lilac tree. You DO know what such a thing might be?” She saw what little wit they had about them.
Still casting about vaguely, first one, then the other fixed in on her song… a pixie once taught the tune. “Over here. Focus. My voice.”
The men seemed hesitant to come to any decision until they’d sized her up… and what she might do. Then they burst into great gulping roils of laughter simultaneously. “Who are you supposed to be then: Tinkerbell?” They laughed until they were wiping the tears from their eyes and leaning on their upper legs for support, relief in evidence.
“I am no ‘Tinkerbell.’” leadis froze their laughter in their mouths. “I am mistress and guardian of all you see, and you’ll not be on these lands without my leave.” “Now go. I am done with speech,” and she wiped her hands, one against the other, having said enough.
Or so she thought.
True, they had driven away that day, quietly and without words to explain. They may have been cowed by her true voice, which came from far-off and near. They slouched past their pitiful gate, which connected nothing, and departed in a cloud of dry spring’s dust, stirred against its sleepy will by wheels and engine.
Leadis watched the path until the last mote of dust settled back to bed. Her heart shifted. “Mark this: it’s not the feel of other human meetings.”
“They look at life and see dust.” Before realizing it, night shone winking on water while the swinging crescent mother watched and listened.
Sure enough, one day past the full, leadis returned to her hill with the bass thrumming ground a ways below, where went her shadow ahead. ‘Was the earth in pain? Why did it groan so?’
With far seeing eyes, she watched them come. Her ears skipped ahead, and heard devastating laughter in the vanguard. “This will be the end of me as I am now,” she whispered to the lake-bound lilies. ”I will perish like those before me or I will come anew.”
www.paranormaldatabase.com/gallery/scot6.htm
"Where Pixies Live" by Lillucyka (right)
***********************************
Breaking into a full run, leadis raced with the hare and won, hands down!
What a joyous moment after having to bind her leg for a number of days from full moon to half.
Even though that raccoon caught her off her guard in its stealthy manner, she was able to respond quite quickly and the resulting wound was much less severe than it could’ve been.
Plus, Momma Raccoon would not soon accost her again; that much was certain. It had learned its lesson decisively.
To celebrate the racing victory, leadis flew a couple of laps around the great hoary willow that stood prominently on her hilltop.
She had been able to recognize the brief look of puzzlement on the rabbit’s face, even though it was an expression which passed much like a firefly blinking off its light.
Now she was ready for the great leg unveiling.
Unwinding all that wrapped her leg against the elements, she saw that, just as she suspected, the wound was completely healed.
There were many advantages for her kind, and healing quickly – more quickly than humans – was one of them.
Bruno Bozzetto - Dancing (above)
Ingmar Bergman - a Chess Game (below)
MPFC - An unexpected dinner guest (")*********** This post exists because I was looking at
The Dvorak dance from 'Allegro...' and this vid
Presented itself to my eyes for the first time.The director is the same for both pieces of animation,
Bruno Bozzetto,
And you can see similar humor and broodings at work.
Both have a light and a dark side to them
So familiar to that of human nature...
And its partitioned ways of perceiving and labeling. This animation belongs to that longstanding
Tradition of human interaction with and
Personification of Death as a scythed one,
Becloaked and free of flesh on its humanoid skeleton.Dour and often robotic it is... though it is worth re-seeing
Bergman's iconic "Det sjunde inseglet," or as
Released in the USA, "The Seventh Seal."There are also the more humorous depictions, as in
"The Meaning of Life," by Monty Python's Flying Circus,
"Monkey Hell," by The Mighty Boosh and the more
Conflicted, "Dead Like Me" and Woody Allen's,
"Love and Death."What have we gained through our arts at recreating
Death as a character or a god of mythology?
Once it is external and anthropomorphized, we can
Relate, ask those important questions we all carry,
And even play a game of chess for fate's sake.Enjoy the funky video and hat, won't you?
Life and Death both seem to ~ why not you?
Cheers for your bright shiny day.And for your further enjoyment here's
Swedish chess and dinner too. (Neither cheese nor cheddar)
Conductor Bepi Speranza; Teatro Piccinni, Bari January 1, 2006Here is a piece of music I've loved for as long as I can remember
There are so many aspects to it - playful, teasing, pastoral,
Yearning, Wistful, Thunderous, Charming, Witty; the list goes on.I remember being so delighted by its inclusion in the film,
"Allegro Non Troppo," which I will include at the bottom
Of this post in its animated format.As is my habit, I will include a number of versions, as I think
They each shed light on some aspect of the beauty of this dance.
And a dance it is. Make no mistake!
It's Dvorak's Slavonic Dance, Op.46 No. 7
And it creates one humongous-sized earworm; I will warn
You of that before you set your toe in the water.Of course with my favorite among these bits/bites being the
Symphonic version before the text, it may already be
Too late for you. For anyone who loves to dance, do check out some of the other
Dvorak pieces and the many Eastern European musical
Compositions which retain such charming regional flair.As we are all immigrants in this travel-stop of a life's way-house
There is something in us always yearning for home...
Of course in the end it is not outside, but inside that must be
Approached and returned to at last, first.
Then everywhere you go, there you are, and all is well. From peoples on the move, spreading their fingers and lives
Across the globe since first human beings graced this sphere
With their duality and chance for reunion of opposites,
Here then is some music for THAT dance too. for Emily, wherever I may find her... :)
... and by guitar quartet:
Volume adjustment may be necessary.
May 19, 2008 — The San Jose State University Guitar Quartet plays Slavonic Dance number 7 by Antonin Dvorak arranged by Jeremy Sparks. Members from Left to Right: Dennis Ryman, Lisa LeFevre, Jonathan Sharp, and Daniel Foley.
-For information regarding the guitar department at San Jose State, contact:
-Dr. Patrick Francis
patrick.francis@sbcglobal.netand in piano:
I love the earnest passion of the young pianists:
October 14, 2007 — May 2007 at Steinway Hall in Manhattan Primo: John Plotz, 16 Secundo: Martin Jacobs, 14 Students of Mary Jo Pagano ... and finally, from the film, "Allegro Non Troppo"
(Scena del film italiano Allegro non troppo)
Antonin Dvorak Slavonic Dance No. 7 The film Allegro non troppo Bruno Bozzetto
One day late in observing this solemn day here, anyway.
I thought about it intently
From the ER and later the hospital room
Where I stayed overnight.
Seemed an appropriate a place as any, really. Since music was key to the times and
What brought people together in this
Long shot of a statement made at great
Personal sacrifice,
I will include a couple of versions of
Neil Young's pointed response. Such a shame on those who took violent action,
But I have this little niggling feeling that
Somehow, somewhere inside,
They know it.
The tragedy is larger than the perpetrators.
It's the environment and 'us against them'isms
We still see going on today.
Poor young sprouts cut down in springtime.
Poor soul of America at the time.
At least the message finally got across
And war was finally, I mean finally, ended.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kent_State_shootings
After delighting in the little balancing movements
Of the sheep on the board
And the clear love and joy the people
Felt for the sheep,
It didn't seem so much like animal cruelty as I thought it might
By a finer line. The sheep walked onto the surfboard itself without any
Physical coaxing and that seemed to cinch it for me,
But I couldn't help thinking...
What if it got in trouble out there?
It's latched onto the board! However it looked like the folk were ready for action
In their wet suits.
I just hope everything's above board.
It was sweet to watch the relationship of human to sheep. Don't think I'll look at sheep quite the same mindless way
I have before. Yes, I'm afraid I've done that. Better now.
"Existential Pilgrims"
http://blog.honoluluacademy.org/?tag=existential-pilgrims
Existential Dread
That's what I said
If you want to know why
I've gotta see you cry
That look in your eye
Before you lie
And say it ain't nothing
It's all okay
I don't have to feel much
To get through the day
And if I do
I'm telling you Existential Dread
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U.S. | April 29, 2010
Regulators Approve First Offshore Wind Farm in U.S.
By KATHARINE Q. SEELYE
After nine years of review, the approval of the 130-turbine farm off the coast of Cape Cod gives a significant boost to the nascent offshore wind industry in the U.S.
~NY Times
"The Rainbow Bee Eater 2007" (though leadis would never)
I filled my pouch with puffs of pollen,
Snacking all the while as the sun breached the horizon.
Warming hives nearby released their gentle fragrance,
Which wafted gradually to where I busied myself.
Zipping quickly back up the hill from the lower meadow,
I glanced about. The dew-charged mist climbed ever higher,
Preventing me from making out its source. Readying myself for what might be coming, the first stone I’d chosen
Slid sweatily from my fingers,
Landing painfully upon my toes with a sickening splat.
Wiping hands hastily on skirt, I had success with the next one,
When a buzzing wee body flew directly into my mouth. Its sweet tangy feet landed upon the flat of my tongue.
I spat her out before she could pierce me there,
Then placed the stone on the ground with palms
Outstretched in gesture of peace
To the many fliers gathered before me in the emptiness off the cliff. Burning fog into tatters, the sun was level with my eyes,
Making it difficult to address
The quickly departing horde.
I plopped on my back, drawing relieved breaths
Of honey golden air through my nose in pleasure at the day’s quickening start. ***