Just an older - how many days have I been doing this? Three or four? So it's OLD... post with some new words and embedded video. Finally worked... Turned out to be me tripping over my feet.http://morningambassador.posterous.com/how-i-fell-in-love-with-the-brian-jonestown-m
"Ice Cream Vendor Riding Bicycle Past Colorful House, Granada, Nicaragua" x 3,by Margie Politzer
[Psychology Yesterday (Just so's you know what you're getting into):]
It was a hot day in Brooklyn, I'll readily admit that. I was a little girl who had an overwhelming feeling of generosity in wanting to help the nice man driving the ice cream bicycle vendor. It was such a powerful intention and response, I remember it 45 years later. I watched silently for a long moment as person after person passed him by. I saw the look of need on his face and recognized it.
"Please, may I buy an ice cream from him? He seems such a nice man."
"No!" Dragged across street as the light turned green. I tried to explain my little girl motives that only now, these many years later are being placed in font.
I was accused of wanting him to buy me a delicious treat AND deceptively disguising it as some kind of undeserved compassion.
"That's worse than being greedy. It's being crafty, and you will learn that 'crafty' is not allowed. Not while I still have a say in the matter."
Little girls dragged around landscape and mind scape by adult males.
To me, it no longer hurts in varied threads that make rope, now installed within.
Wounded; trying to fly. Still.
No. Give, UP. No.
P.S. All these years later I've come to understand in discussion, that maybe that was a shtick... a ploy...and it's a paren't job to help you survive in the world, weed out manipulation. I just can't help myself seeing it the little girl way, perhaps to a fault? Thanks to P.M.
"Silence: by Valerie Wilson
I don't think I should say much for a little while, verbally speaking. (pun!)
Just like one might fast to appreciate the bountiful times.
One might be still to notice and listen.
And see just how things work....
Then they might write about it here afterward, or somewhere else.
As it's not said out loud....
which is my out clause.
Earth Day New York, New York, c.1970
Earth Day -
I didn't even know we had one until mid- 70's
Does it also seek to celebrate and protect the other elements?
I think its charter must be written so.
Let's see:
The first four principles of the Earth Charter provide a concise overview of the ethical vision of the Charter. These four general principles are:
-- Respect Earth and life in all its diversity.
-- Care for the community of life with understanding, compassion, and
love.
-- Build democratic societies that are just, participatory, sustainable,
and peaceful.
-- Secure Earth's bounty and beauty for present and future generations.More about it may be found in the article attached to this link: http://www.bahaindex.com/en/news/1-general-news/753-earth-charter-usa-kicks-off-earth-day-celebrations
Was 2000 really only 9 years ago?
I would like to think we leave the earth with it celebrating us too.
There are those who will be remembered by earth, air, fire, water, and ether for their lightness of step, breath of life, fire of mind, flowing compassion, and ardent spirit.
You will be remembered, I should think, for your unconditional love of and on this planet-sized gift we have inherited and leave as our legacy, oddly, though it is not ours.
"Down at an English fair, one evening I was there; When I heard a showman shouting underneath the flair
I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts; There they are, all standing in a row; Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head
Give them a twist a flick of the wrist; That's what the showman said.
I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts; Every ball you throw will make me rich
There stands my wife, the idol of me life; Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch"
"I have of late—but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame the earth seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o’er-hanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. "
(Hamlet; William Shakespeare)
I kept thinking of this speech all morning;
though I am not to the extent of 'foul and pestilent' yet,
but generally feeling the possibility of contagion
from the state of my own mind.
Not sure how to handle that level of responsibility?
Slapstick, Wit, Nonsense, and Articulation; I have always loved them. Their passing, one by one, was a sorrow made all the worse to this dramatically emotional youngster by the childish joy that seemed to have left my world.
Of course, NOW, all these years, later, I occasionally see something akin to their blend of otherworldly, "Duck Soup," pop up here or there, as the befuddled, loving, or bemused masses look on, but how could there ever again be that exact talent in configuration, until the plaited collaboration between nature, nurture, karma and humor is once again found in iteration.
Silence, Mischief, and Melody.
Brilliant Witty Nonsense Speedier Than a Locomotive.
... and a Shtick Piano Man With an Eye for the Ladies
Welcome, Please, Ladies and Germs, The Marx Brothers!
(thunderous applause)
"Brooklyn Bridge Fog" by Henri Silberman
I once read a Celtic tale about a magical fog a traveler might wander into and come face to face with their worst fear, guilt, and regret in the form of people they had known in life.
Psychological fog can work the same way. The only way to combat it in the story was for the person to tell themselves it wasn't real, as it was always the worst reflection and distortion of the truth to trap the traveler in the fog forever.
Having done that, I imagine a bit of a 'pop' as the fog rolls back to reveal the rest of the path. Or, a bridge to the new way of life.
I'm familiar with the concept of self-distortion. It's an almost compulsorily painful act, and must be caught early in each cycle to have any hope of disbanding it. This I've seen with my own peepers.
Taking practice to offset this, the reality is that struggle makes the fog grow stronger, and gives it power and voice, and sometimes in the real world, en masse, a real-life cause to follow with energetic, projective enthusaiasm.
Hearing the daily news read out to me, I wonder whether this planet has a transparent fog that flows, in contagion, from person to person.
Vigilance about how much life energy is allowed to leak out unintentionally, unconsciously, making it more likely to walk about in fog, is my concern. As my sister said on one of those Facebook applications, "You have been bitten by a zombie. Start chomping others... for points."
Whenever you should happen to see
a weeping willow large and green
remember that there must be big water near
or someone who remembers the tree lovingly
and cares to quench its mighty thirst.
Hope, like an oasis, brings
contentment and beauty in waving motion
Zephyrs and other breezes play mischeviously
every day in fluid branchery;
I catch them for a moment sometimes...
going at
hide and seek.
"Poker Arts 18" by Teo Alfonso "Antiseptic Surgery, 1882" English School
L Y R I C S
Brian Jonestown Massacre's
"Open Heart Surgery"
"i feel like letting you know
how much i love you today
i feel like letting it show
showing you rightly now
and never going away i know you're feeling real low
calling on all my
i want to make it ok
i want to show you i know
and it will be all fine
i want to take it away
take it away i thought i'ld write you this song
maybe i'd make you smile
and take your sadness away
hey
i want to show you i love
love love you a long time girl
i'm never going away
hey,
hey
hey
hey "
I cannot go a day without hearing the soothing tones of this song. Sad, out-of-time, lovely song sitting on a dark curb, waiting for a friendly face that glows in the night.