morningambassador’s posthaven

"Think"

Contemplation is at the core of mind and life, I think. That's just some folks' opinions, though.

It isn't fast, and it isn't the first thing always.

A process worth doing, for me anyway.

Understanding my own self has to be stage one.

For others, I only think about it. I will contemplate...

Opinion goes both ways, it seems. I've made up my own mind. But here are some quotes from both sides (now):

“That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.”
Edgar Allen Poe

“Contemplation often makes life miserable. We should act more, think less, and stop watching ourselves live.”
Chamfort

“Be Silent yourself, that will induce Silence in others. Do not fall into the habit of shouting, talking long and loud. Reduce contacts to the minimum. Carry with you an atmosphere of quiet contemplation, wherever you happen to be. The less you talk, the more will become your mental power. With the increase in your mental capacity, there will be increase in your power of discrimination too. Consequently, you will give up individual discrimination . Because of this, you will begin to consider the good of the world at large rather than your own individual welfare. You must cultivate such broad feelings from this young age itself.”
Sri Sathya Sai Baba

“What we plant in the soil of contemplation, we shall reap in the harvest of action”
Meister Eckhart

“If there is a special Hell for writers it would be in the forced contemplation of their own works.”
John Dos Passos  ;)

I guess each person has to make up his or her own mind.
Hmmm.... what mental tools might be available for such a task?
Of course, you will be the one to decide.

When the latest animated (sort of - pretty darn realish-looking to me) movie version came out, I was eager to see it. I'd read the translated Beowulf ancient poem. I'd heard it performed as close as we can come these days to the way it was meant to be presented: sung and accompanied by a stringed instrument no longer used 'often.' I'd read J.R.R. Tolkien's papers on it (that was his specialty), and I'd also read the amazing book, "Grendel," as seen from the 'monster's' point of view.

I'd been having difficulty seeing any movies at all, especially on the big screen as they caused visual auras of blue and orange, which made the migraines intensify.

I had just reunited with a man separated by time and space, but not by love - after 22 years, and it seemed special to share something important in my life. He'd always be willing to see at least 1/2 of all the movies coming out anyway, and he'd heard good things about this one.

We sallied forth with different starting perspectives.

It wound up that I  talked and talked and talked about the movie for the next 3 weeks. Enough to drive a person insane, but it turned into a good, juicy conversation about life. It brought up so many fundamentals that it became, looking back, the loveliest first real experience we had together in the world of Story this second time around.

I realize there's no actual content here about the story itself, but that will be edited in later. I'm very tired, but I had to get started and put it out here so I'd be motivated to get it finished tomato.  Thanks for your patience until it's whole. Perhaps it will wind up being worth something to someone.

Equus, Equine, Equanimity...

How noble is a
Horse... toils, bears, pulls, and races
For us... moves the wind

(A wee bit of techical difficulty here - picture supposed to supplant these words - will work on it)

The domestication, in part, of the horse, is thought to have begun around 4000 BC and become widespread by 3000 BC (love how everything happens in years that end in '0's'). "After 2,000 BC there is a sharp increase in the number of horse bones found in human settlements across Northwestern Europe, indicating the spread of the domesticated horses throughout the continent."     http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horse

How that must have changed everything!

Transportation, work, warfare, companionship and the many varied activities this beautiful being has done, often against its original nature, to suit the needs of humans.

They started out as very small creatures, but changed quite a bit over massive amounts of time. For racing, they've been helped along in the specific trait breeding department. The qualities that make them faster than work horses also change their temperament and shape a bit. Other breeds for other duties... Unnatural selection.

I wonder whether the wild calls louder for the horse than it does for us. Seven thousand years is a long time, and there is only one type of truly wild horse left in the world. But I can see the call of the wild in humans as well.... still.

My uncle worked with horses his whole life. He loved them, and he helped people to care for them, waking at any hour to run out of the house and do what needed to be done, even if it got him occasionally hit hard by a large horse's head in its pain and confusion. He was a racetrack vet, and from what I hear, one of the very best.

A unique individual; whenever I think of a horse, I think back to how much I miss his laughter and delightful times.

Thoughts and good wishes, food for the journey. I love you always. And your little horse too.

Article: http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/more_sports/2009/05/02/2009-05-02_501_long_...

It was an odd, personal, maybe hard-to-read day of posting.

Something's still going on.

So I especially wanted to wish you all a sweet night.

Maybe I will have one too?

"Rockabye Baby!" does a lullaby version of 'The Smashing Pumpkins' ,' "Today", originally on the album, "Siamese Dream."

Didn't make it...

 "Human Behaviour" by Bjork on "Debut" 1993

from the album, "Debut."

It seems like a quarter of my life happened in 1993... but that can't be true.

So much amazing music that year - in albums and concerts and festivals: Smashing Pumpkins, Belly, They Might Be Giants, Dandys, Bowie and Reznor, Chili Peppers, Bjork, Nirvana; Hole; double dose of the Dead and more...

Helps to moor me to my life, musical markers do.

All this talk about follow through - and my difficulty with it - brought to mind this song and then that year.

It was the year that my youngest sister and younger cousins came to visit me at my magical mystery farm in Cumberland.

It was the year that we saw people blowing bubbles everywhere we went - at Mt. Rainier, parked at a light, at EndFest, on a bench - everywhere that visit.

As I've said before... coincidences are... interesting.

It had nighttime sleeping bag viewing and giggling, talking quietly at the annual August Pleiades meteor shower in the first pasture - trying to keep our eyeballs loose and fancy free to see whatever we might see. Listening to a large animal not far off... shivering a little because of it.

Someone learned to pee out in nature for the first time - not me; been there, done that. Sometimes nature does truly call.

Lost on foot far in the wild, sun going down. (If you haven't seen the movie, "Dersu Uzala," I strongly recommend it.)

It had some sad endings, but then every year does.At the moment of sundown on Yom Kippur, a person dear began with the truth, which eventually changed everything.

Truth is powerful.... truth be told.

It all turned out well, I'm happy to report.
Love, not bitterness is the retort.

Death does still seem like an end to us;
Sometimes in the right frame of  understanding;
Reality can shift quite suddenly.
The End is the Beginning is the End is this time... the Only.

The first Good.

Debut to The Dead and back again.

from the album, "Rearrange Beds" 2009

Come right on down, folks... to the song and the quote I MEANT to add to the earlier post on follow through!

I'm demonstrating something here, with intention...

Plus I find it ever so slightly amusing.

That I find it amusing.

Now THAT is follow through.....

I think.

"The obvious is that which is never seen until someone expresses it simply."
~Kahlil Gibran

And simple is not simple to get to... for me anyway...

Where did all those layers to peel away come from?

The conditioning spa farm thingy.

Follow through.

How does one do that?

Taking the first step, planning something out beforehand... may be difficult, but how do you keep it going at pace?

It is part and parcel of my life's work to sort this.

Odd connection in my brain: Kentucky Derby day. Glorious and elegant beings, with towering bodies on tiny ankles, and they're asked to do what, exactly?

If there's not courage and perseverance in that... I don't know anything (which is most likely completely true.).

   
"Peacocks" by Jessie Arms Botke

[This is part 2 of the Peacock Piece I started yesterday, and am getting back to it. Writing can be a 'joyous' torture at times, and this is one them. Any news source will tell you so. And I am adding my small voice.]

I've committed to this ending of a strange trilogy with part 1 and feel like I need to get it down, so here goes without any preamble whatsoever:  ;)

The very first time we drove up the long winding road that ended above the property that was soon to be 'ours' in a hilltop lake, I could hear the peacock's call.

They came with the place, and more beautiful was the landscape because of them, even though it was perfect as it was.

Listening to them each day, especially in the gloaming, added something joyous, mysterious and unique to the already burgeoning wildlife that lived through and around 'our' place. There was a collection of woodpecker, kingfisher, swallow, goldfinch, cardinal, etc. There were deer, elk, mink, rabbit, fox, coyote, harmless snakes, and squirrel that made some of their life there too. With us.

We got big time into finding the right feed for the peacocks - and the canisters and the nesting material and protection for them at night, including eventually - a foot high electrical fence around the extra small-spaced fencing.

We tried out best.

One day an acquaintance called and told us about a pair of albino peacock and peahen they had, and after discussing it, we decided to give them a home too. M. L. went to Eastern Washington to pick them up. Must've been an interesting ride home, but I was not there to witness it.

They were gorgeous, and the mixture of differently colored, dazzling birds got us excited, so...

We went to an auction and bargained on 5 ducks - there were already two volunteers hanging about. (When one of the volunteers left or something else happened to it, the remaining duck mourned - loudly - for 2 months, no kidding. And some scientists still adamantly posit that animals are incapable of emotion.)

Then we heard about the Mother Lode! A VERY interesting bird sanctuary/supplier-to-good- homes establishment about 40 minutes from where we lived. There was such variety of beautiful and unusual birds... we could not believe our eyes... and wanted to get many to add to our clan.

We got a bit of reality in the decision-making, narrowing-down process, and then...

This list sounds a bit like the Christmas song without the pear tree and a few other dancing beings, but we brought home - more peacocks, a peacock pheasant with a four foot lovely tail a'trailin', and two mourning doves. I can't remember whether there was a mate for the pheasant; I hope we were kind.

I used to love and sit to hear the doves' soft cooing sounds as they whispered to each other conspiratorially.

There was a great space for them with huge-logged playground structures for perching, plenty of space for the wandering spirit, and protection at night.

Our hearts swelled as we surveyed the land, the plantings, the birds, and saw that all was good. Very sweet and full of life.

That night we went to sleep with a feeling of enhanced beauty in our little necks of the woods, and a definite sense of accomplishment.

Waking early, we could hardly wait to go out and visit 'our' birds and drink in their beauty in that incredibly three-dimensional natural setting.

You know the end. You've known it all along. I finally figured out why I felt so prompted to write this: in memorium of the dead and in recognition of the wounds that sometimes are completely outside your control.

I know some people feel strongly that it's wrong to keep any animals. Don't think I'll tackle that one, except to say that I thoroughly respect their feelings on the matter. And it felt that way to me that morning as I stood there, with my jaw to the ground, as I surveyed the massacre. It was relatively low on the gruesome meter, as small mink had gotten through the extra-small fence spacing... to drink the nighttime blood of these helpless creatures. I like to think the doves got away, as we never found their bodies laid out in figures of easy capitulation like the others.

I was inconsolable and cried for a long time that day and the next. What could I have done and so forth, but the story always goes on.

From this life to the next.

"View of Saturn from Voyager I"

Still dithering and playing at avoidance as you can see.

On my side, I do have exhaustion, the difficulty of keeping my eyes open, the world from spinning, my fingers from typing errors.

Saturday, named for the Roman sky god, Saturn - who was, I believe a Titan and swallowed all his children, but for the last, who he missed by filling up on baby-sized rocks instead, due to the trickery of a frustrated mom.

I mean, there'll always be some prophecy somewhere saying that one of your children will live to surmount you in the end... let's face it - life again.

Alright, so if he isn't technically in the Olympic Pantheon of 12 gods and godesses, we should all have a moment of silence for my mistake, quickly corrected.

Ta!