morningambassador’s posthaven

The Outback Here... at dawn...
For T.K., wherever he may be seen... found...

I cried when I read your letter tonight.
The thoughtfulness and letting go of hands
Once more
Was a thrice-opened wound again and sweetly
Bound with wrappings and laid to rest

Of course it makes sense to leave things
Out on the table and also in the world
Of fictional readings on an electronic screen.

Ah yes...

Everyone has, each to each their own life
And so it ought stay and will be
Until time itself echoes Ouroboros
In design and circular wisdom.

The fact that I know there will be a distant contact
Maintains my heart in the present,
Your encouragement of my creative side of nature...

Filled with love I release my various naive enthusiasms to
Zephyr and the other winds, gentle and
Occasionally a wee bit more tumultuous...
But always only I'll be
Wishing gentle breezes to carry you into
Your many tomorrows.

Such a beautiful old soul
I feel the truth in it... in you.
And wish you gems and treasure
In all the moments of your long days
Future becoming present, the only place
Where it can be truly known and felt.

I will be here, evolving and devoted
From that past point forward.
Ever open to know news of you
You who gave so much to help me get started
At such a newly attempted life free
Of old slavery. First steps tentative and awkward
Though they may have been.

I can't tell you what this has meant to me,
All my life long.
Grateful, I draw breath
And let it out again in a knowing sigh
Timeless and filled with hope and some..
Resolution, redemption and later,
Should I be lucky: transcendence.
Thank you most kind and true.

Released another part to yourself,
Do what you're meant to do...
I know
You will and am at peace.

 

Songs for the present, the past, and the future
Though when, she could not say...
And time coiled like a snake at the base of
Some universal subtle spine...

Beginning to nod a bit now as I keep the moonlit watch
Looking out over the shades of darkness and shadow
Sweeping the green land down to rivulets running
And glinting in the distance.

Oddly funny-sad how in keeping with the old ways that be.
Some things one does from habit gained a ways ago
And not because there is need for it to be so any longer.

My toes are touching down into the hyphae that branch
Beneath the fairy caps and other fungi that dot this hill o'mine.
By this means alone, I may yet have some word of
Ever-rarer others
Far and farther.

Once they hook in their fingers or toes, ears or nose
They can sense me as well and we connect.
It's not like a conversation... like this one we be sharing now. ;)
'Tis more of a huge breath of release and the
Draught of lightning flash and thunder crack
Up and down real quick like.

Then we sit together, still, and share pulls on these
Ancient threads that have bound us across this mother
Forever.

It's a hard thing to let go of connections to
Begin a daylight foraging or be gone exploring the ruins
Where the bats come to congregate of late.

I ne'er know widder I shall feel the tug of
That one silver thread out of those yet left...again.
Once released some have gone and nev'r come back
Though it be the same moon shining down in the span.

Tis a mystery to me, and my greatest fear
Is that in the end there will only be me.

So more and more I pay attention to humans.
Will they go to the same unknowing  fate?
Or is there some special gift that be for them alone?

Do they know how to use the mycelium's hyphae
To commune with one another?
When I see Leslie look at me, she often has a light box
She clacks on to reach out, branching, into the world
of her fellows or the depths of her and my mind.

But I know
And I feel
That she understands the silvery heart strings
That soar through every material, not needing
Mushroom strands to reach me without
Delay.

(Moonlit Winter Landscape" by Remi van Haanen,
which can be found at this website!:
www.kistenet.com/brandon/Paintings.htm)

 

Mushrooms can save the world
In six different ways,
Discusses Paul Stamets,
Powerfully and knowledgeably.

This is worth seeing...
But it has to be twice
Please make the time
To clear the decks and listen actively
To what the man has to say.

He knows his stuff,
And especially we who wish it all weren't so
But feel we've kind of reached the end of our tenure
On this planet we've stressed.
Here's a man with an actual plan.

Join with successful organisms
Work with rather than against
If it's gonna be too late at least you know
You tried when someone showed you
Something do-able. That's Paul... y'all.

This image is from:travel.webshots.com/photo/1517879770082316503...

Here are the lyrics to Hopewell's song, "Calcutta."
I've included the music as well. Hope you enjoy it
And can live with possible earwormtinnitus
From stuck riffs and drum beats in the membrane.

The song holds some irony for me as the website hosting the last
Picture reminds of when Mother Teresa came to New York City,
And pronounced it the poorest city she had ever been to, from
Among all her missions in India and South America and so on.

When asked why, she said that spiritual hunger and emptiness is
Far more rampant and painful than mere physical hunger,
Especially in the long run.

That was long before airplanes flew into the two towers
And began to bring people together in impossibly painful
Then healing new ways.

Dear Mother Teresa; what would you say now?
Here is the quote from decades ago:

"Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody,
I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty
than the person who has nothing to eat."
Mother Teresa

Lyrics to Calcutta :
And we're living...in calcutta.
With one foot in the grave.
And the other...in the gutter.

I bet you dream in black and white.
Sleep quietly and soft at night.
Wake up ready to FIGHT the FIGHT...
(I suppose it's easy...when yr right)

And we're living...in calcutta.
With one foot in the grave.
And the other...in the gutter.

Pull yrself up to full height.
Enjoy yr privilege and birthright.
Ready to rise and FIGHT the FIGHT...
(I suppose it's easy...when yr right)

And we're living...in calcutta.

With one foot in the grave.

And the other...in the gutter.
(In the gutter)

I'd like to think that fighting the fight

Can be more in keeping with Gandhi

Than with eager militarism and random violence,

But that's me. My hope and those of many other humans

Now alive... today.

Times Square   www.markmallett.com/blog/?p=256

One of those viral videos making the rounds,
I've seen it in about a dozen places, and always
I'm compelled to watch it again.

So graceful, tasteful, and beautifully done
It's powerfully affective and effective
Without uttering a single word of verbal language.

Public service announcements:
For when there's too much at stake.

Both of these inspired artists are now gone,
But their music is still here.

I don't usually post youtube slide shows;
More of a listen to the music while I'm looking elsewhere,
Or at a video, but I rather like this one of George Harrison mostly
So I'll put it up here so I can easily find it again.
I also hope others will enjoy it as well as the
Random slideshow of Elliott Smith who covers the song.
Thank you to the person who made it... and George & Elliott
Who cast their images so well.

 Safe journeys both of you,

And while I'm thinking of it... George Eliot as well.

I'm grateful for this song.
It's short and easy to sing along, but also
It expresses an amazing experience in life:
Along the lines of second chances...
Especially at a life filled with love.

How rarified. A conscious understanding of one's own heart.

•  
• 

  Hide

  The Onion

  Average Time Spent Being Happy Drops To 13 Seconds Per Day | The Onion - America's Finest News Sourc
  onion.com

  BERKELEY, CA—A study published in the latest issue of the Journal Of Social Sciences revealed that the amount of time spent being happy has dropped to an all-time low of 13 nonconsecutive seconds per day.

Okay, folks, is this an average we're talking about here... ?
Despite the Onion's self-silliness, this is funny due to the fact
That it resembles something that many people do experience,
Nonconsecutiveness notwithstanding.

So it's another kind of exercise that takes regular practice.
Come on, folks, feel what you're feeling, be who you are,
But for the sake of all, let's see about raising those
Numbers up a bit over time, ya?

We're always at the fork in the road;
Always deciding which tributary to follow
To the source
Of joy.

OR.....

Maybe it's funny because of its complete divergence
From reality.
Suppose that's possible too!
And in that case:
Let's STILL see about raising those numbers up
A bit over time, ya?

 

 

From her memory hill I watch after
My bonded one... and always - though I fight
It with me will and fists,
It's always that Leslie girl, who has
Talked me off my ears since she was but
A wee three years old.

T’was love at first glimpse, but I dinna realize
Then what I know now.
Love is a keep-with-ye-always type thing.

We pierced deep into each other's memories,
Reveling in the joy of an hour, not knowing
That we would always have an odd sort of shadow-life
In each other's spirited hearts and fiery minds.

"Greetings and most pleased to meet ye!"
That is how I was always meant to start out with folk,
And it's the one thing I tries to keep the same.

The other thing is this hill, My hill now
All my brethren long gone...
The last of the White Slog Hill folk, I be.
 
While I sit kneeling in her living memory,
Clear as a bell  mind, but she still tries to use her
Writing to dig down and find me in all of my true
And most mighty primal glory. She tries, I say.

And I do confess it's fun sometimes to
Zig when she zags.
It's not like I have minstrels playing for me anymore.

Something to entertain the queen.

It's both easy and hard to sum up a human woman.
Yep - she's grown tall in these many years...
No more playing in the fairy circle at eye level.
An’t frustrates me so...
She fights where there ain't no fight to make
Against herself,
Against her wisdom... and when she does that, I pull back
The lobe of her memory ear and give a good wailing!

Oh, how that scares her straight out of small and dark
Worming thoughts,
Taking her back to that certain slant o'the sun that we shared
To bright possibilities and buttercups shivering without fear.

She's a challenging case, my beautiful Leslie
From the gray fortress she is indeed, as her name would suggest.
Locked up tight yet opening fully every other moment..
She is a time-lapse movie of breath and expansion

She needs me to whisper strength into her ears as it was all beaten out
Long ago and went into the wee chemicals that tweak her DNA bits
On and off, and now how her body suffers so as to give
Her mind a chance to screw itself on straight.

Yeah, leadis, that's me: leadis farnex to you I suppose;
Love is like that - she'll never forget me
Though she grow gray and a bit brittle...
I will niggle at her forever, until one lifetime or another
She blossoms full and strong into her radiant self already.

Then she'll write ye some tale.
Yea, she will. And I'll be the one to go
On the sparkling sassafull adventures she conjures.
Ye shall see. Oh yes. 

Worth a listen lesson through to the end, the vid is.
If you have the time to commit, otherwise
I'd pass it on by.

"What if?" questions are an excellent source of
Writing material and brain-sparkings.

What if thoughts generated pixies and fairies of all sorts?
Rather than or instead of tears as some stories go.
What if they were intermediate spirits helping and
Occasionally jinxing things up as well?
What if they got together and formed one of the most
Awesome rock bands ever?
Posing as human beings
With Black Francis and the ever-cool Kim Deal?
What might their sound be like?

 

I have had the great good fortune to see
Pete Seeger play up close numerous times,
Sometimes with Arlo Guthrie side by side.

"Where Have All the Flowers Gone" is a
Haunting song I remember from my earliest
Days of music awareness on this planet.

I had heard vague whisperings of its origin,
And today I become aware of more, much more
Thank I knew before.

All because of a response I received
Related to the post on the mining disaster.

Some people learn, and it's usually a slow
Process or a lightning bolt to the head.

I love this version of Pete Seeger performing the song...

 Does not fail to bring a chill and tears every time.

Hope you enjoy it...
Thanks to....:

Thespadecaller — February 18, 2008 — On July 26, 1956, the House of Representatives voted
 373 to 9 to cite Pete Seeger and seven others (including playwright Arthur Miller) for contempt,
as they failed to cooperate with House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) in their attempts to
investigate alleged subversives and communists. Pete Seeger testified before the HUAC in 1955.
In one of Pete's darkest moments, when his personal freedom, his career, and his safety were in jeopardy,
a flash of inspiration ignited this song. The song was stirred by a passage from Mikhail Sholokhov's novel
"And Quie Flows the Don". Around the world the song traveled and in 1962 at a UNICEF concert in
Germany, Marlene Dietrich, Academy Award-nominated German-born American actress, first performed
 the song in French, as "Qui peut dire ou vont les fleurs?" Shortly after she sang it in German.
The song's impact in Germany just after WWII was shattering.
It's universal message, "let there be peace in the world" did not get lost in its translation.
To the contrary, the combination of the language, the setting, and the great lyrics has had a profound effect
on people all around the world. May it have the same effect today and bring renewed awareness to all that hear it.

To that I add my voice and hope.