Don't Let The Stars Get In Your Eyes (don't the moon break your heart)

 I am supposing that the next rabbit out of the hat will be "proof" of ET and Fox Mulder can say "I told you so!"

Pondering the nature of deception, I think it must be used to hide something real.

As Mr. Lewis said many years ago anything really real is of Heaven.  I wonder what the cheap cover-up will be attempting to occlude?

Anyhow I found a couple of interesting videos this morning.  

And of course!

My Foolish Heart

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗢𝗳 𝗣𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘀

 

Under a sky the color of pea soup

she is looking at her work growing away there

actively, thickly like grapevines or pole beans

as things grow in the real world, slowly enough.

If you tend them properly, if you mulch, if you water,

if you provide birds that eat insects a home and winter food,

if the sun shines and you pick off caterpillars,

if the praying mantis comes and the ladybugs and the bees,

then the plants flourish, but at their own internal clock.

 

Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.

You cannot tell always by looking what is happening.

More than half the tree is spread out in the soil under your feet.

Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet.

Fight persistently as the creeper that brings down the tree.

Spread like the squash plant that overruns the garden.

Gnaw in the dark and use the sun to make sugar.

 

Weave real connections, create real nodes, build real houses.

Live a life you can endure: Make love that is loving.

Keep tangling and interweaving and taking more in,

a thicket and bramble wilderness to the outside but to us

interconnected with rabbit runs and burrows and lairs.

 

Live as if you liked yourself, and it may happen:

reach out, keep reaching out, keep bringing in.

This is how we are going to live for a long time: not always,

for every gardener knows that after the digging, after

the planting,

after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes.

 

~ Marge Piercy ~

(In Praise of Fertile Land, edited by Claudia Mauro)

Thinking About Home Towns

 I grew up in the sticks outside Bothell, WA.  A suburb of Seattle.  There is a pretty good little history of the place at https://www.historylink.org/file/4190

In the early 50s my parents bought a little unfinished two bedroom house on land that had been logged but never lived on before as far as we can tell.  Not even by Natives.  It was an interesting experience, watching my father behave like a farmer and clear the land of stumps and finish the house.  

I went to school with lots of Scandinavian descendants.  Bothell seemed like a very Norwegian place.

It would to fun to hear about anyone else's home place.  I know some moved around a lot.  We didn't.

Typical shot of my father.  He was always doing something.  Here he is making a swing set from scratch.  It was always there until the place was sold.

It Is The Season Of Complaining And I Hear Doves

 Ah, delicious, evocative and sensual....

No need to go looking for the summer.  I guess its here.  6 AM and everything is open looking for a bit of air flow.  My little fan here is sighing by my left shoulder.  And I do hear birds, some squawking like a Jay, the chickens next door talking amongst themselves and as always when it is warm, the doves.

I am swept away by the song.  Might have something to say later! lol

Impossible To Ignore, Or A Trip North On Highway 99

 Yesterday, driving home from Seattle, the freeway was moving very slowly heading north, so I decided to take Highway 99, in spite of the stop lights.  It actually has about four different names depending on where you are.

What I saw on the way to the end of empire..or maybe even the Last Days.  I saw many more prostitutes.  Almost a crowd in one spot.  Its terrible to look out and see young teenage girls dressed in the costumes of crude attraction.  They look so vulnerable.  I saw fat women.  One beat up looking big black girl sitting in a bus stop with almost all her breasts exposed.  Lots of Mexican girls.  Several very very young and small Black girls.  The sensation of danger to them is very strong.  Also, it was much too warm of a day to be standing  out in the sun all day.

I saw one pimp.  I always look around and to see if I can spot the cruel creep.  Of course giving them the evil eyes does nothing.

I saw normal looking young women holding signs up on an overpass.  I would bet anything you ask that they were fussing about overturning Roe...but that they had nothing to say about all the girls on the street there being used as merchandise. 

I saw men wracked by drug use, flailing about in useless motion.  Dragging up and down the streets like lost dogs.

I saw people sitting in clusters in corners, like dirty peasants, in America.  

Several people were driving very strangely and aggressively, zipping up on the right side of my car, and zooming off, weaving in and out of the traffic.  I don't usually see much of that.

It was a joyful day.  It was a sad day.  It just depends.  Maybe the sunshine just brought them all out more than usual.  I do have to wonder why the city allows all that hooker activity.

I was reminded of this:

Hark hark, the dogs do bark.

The beggars are coming to town.

Some in rags, some in tags, 

and some in velvet gowns.

Find The Light, In Spite Of It All

Those who are born into the light, see light.

 

“Hell is a state of mind, and every state of mind, left to itself, every shutting up of the creature within the dungeon of its own mind - is, in the end, Hell. But Heaven is not a state of mind. Heaven is reality itself. All that is fully real is Heavenly. For all that can be shaken will be shaken and only the unshakable remains.”

 

- C.S. Lewis

I found the perfect post ready made on a tumblr today.  I think of what Lewis said about everything.

Let us not be shaken.  Let us remove the the bucket the world puts on our heads.  Let us lay down our arms, and pick up the Armour of God.

I have a busy day lined up.  The usual trip to Seattle and scuttling beetle-like about in my Honda.  Will meet up with Fifi for a minute to hand over Ophelia in the Sky With Diamonds, and take daughter to her errands.

Shabbat Shalom All!

I'm Sure You Remember Cat!

 He was a pretty darn good song writer and quite the doll baby for darkly good looks.  I once had a poster of him in a pirate costume with a big old feather in his hat.  Yeah, he was pretty.  He was also a Muslim all along wasn't he, got serious about it later.  Too bad.

Anyhoo, this song was playing in my head to wake be up this morning and i remember it well.

"Lord my body's been a good friend, but I won't need it when I reach the end!"  

GOOD morning youse guys!  Love ya!

Haven't We Heard This Before? Or Why Do They Even Need Us

     Then its Tommy this an' Tommy that an' "Tommy 'ow's yer soul?"

     But its "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,

     The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,

     O its "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

     From Kipling's  "Tommy" of course.

               

     

Ever feel excessively USEFUL?  Please excuse reference to Che.  Also please excuse the obvious cattle inaccuracies.  It is what it is.

Ahem...

A Bright And Shiny Good Morning, I Got Nuthin' Up My Sleeve Today

 

“Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire.” 

- Jorge Borges

Having A Bit Of A Hard Time With This

Our friends are not supposed to die.

But the Intruder comes to every man, no matter how wise and funny,

Whether good or evil.  Here he is.  

So rude!

What is it they say?  Fair winds and following seas Rocket.  I loved and respected your mind.  Mourning is for this side of the veil, I know.

 And in addition to that, this:

I'm All Tied Up With Creation (and its a fine place to be)

 I'm moving my base of operations from the sewing machine desk out in the front room to my big easel that lives in the kitchen.  lol  Don't ask.   Ceiling is high enough out there.  

I've been avoiding this, but its come back to haunt me.  So.  Paint it is.

Everyone needs a chicken assistant!  

Also, Don't let the cats get in your shoes!

LOL!!!!

Fathers Never Get Enough Press!

I think some appreciation is in order.  Not enough can be said here.  But GOD bless and strengthen and encourage the good men among us.  You are precious and beloved!

 My own father when he was young and a cutie, on Vashon Island with me and my little sister.

My father in law about the time I first met him.  He was a bit scary at first.

And of course, Himself, the Bird.  Beard, braid and all.  The braid is gone now.

Good men all.  

Wipe That Silly Chagrin Off Your Face!

 I had always calmly assumed chagrin meant about the same as regret.  The ethno-poem yesterday snagged my attention with the word.  So, it turns out that there is also a large element of embarrassment to it.  It has to do with regret at failure.

According to Vocabulary.com it comes from a French word of the same spelling having to do with "melancholy, anxiety and depression".  One funny thing is that it has been thought to be related to an English word, shagreen, for rough untanned leather.

False etymologies are one of my favorites and fun for another time.  They spring up like mushrooms after a reign!

I Found Out What Prosaic Literally Means

I was going on the assumption that it meant predictable and common.  Nope.  It means PROSE, not poetry.  

Prosaic Has Literary Origins

In the past, any text that was not poetic was prosaic. Back then, prosaic carried no negative connotations; it simply indicated that a written work was made up of prose. That sense clearly owes much to the meaning of the word's Latin source prosa, meaing "prose." Poetry is viewed, however, as the more beautiful, imaginative, and emotional type of writing, and prose was relegated to the status of mundane and plain-Jane. As a result, English speakers started using prosaic to refer to anything considered matter-of-fact or ordinary, and they gradually transformed it into a synonym for "colorless," "drab," "lifeless," and "lackluster."

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/prosaic

Words that I want to look into, to re-examine come to me when I am "sleeping".  I was given prosaic last night.  Funny timing because yesterday's post ended up being partly about poetry, not really coffee.  

However!

 Just for fun, I include this:

I Love Almost Every Coffee Shack In The Pacific Northwest

 

A Brief History of Coffee in Seattle

https://theculturetrip.com/north-america/usa/washington/articles/a-brief-history-of-coffee-in-seattle/

It’s really just a combination of the right factors coming together at the right place and the right time. First, the surroundings: there is nothing like regular overcast days in the mid-50s Fahrenheit (13°C) to make you crave a warm beverage that doubles as a pick-me-up. That right there powered the opening of Café Encore in 1958, followed closely by The Place Next Door in 1959 and El Matador in 1960.

Now that you understand the place, you can learn more about the time. The 1960s and ’70s were all about counterculture. Bohemians sought out places where they could gather and discuss changing the world. This demand made room to supply an increase in coffeehouses all around Seattle, notably The Last Exit in 1967 in the U. District (near Hippie Hill). Not long after, a future Starbucks executive opened the still prominent Café Allegro in 1975.

Oh how I miss the Last Exit.  Gone so gone.  

Of course, Starbucks changed the entire game. Still, as they began to take over the world, Seattle held true to its values which, first associated with hippies, attached themselves to the grunge culture as the city moved into the ’90s. These unaltering values led Seattleites to independent roasters and coffee shops, rejecting the increasingly conformist Starbucks.

Today, nothing has changed much. Seattleites typically hate Starbucks, which doesn’t really faze the company, being loved by the rest of the world as they are. People of the Emerald City flock to the trends that have evolved from once-hippie values: ethically sourced, Fair Trade coffee at shops that practice ecological responsibility. The smaller and more local, the better.

Seattleites may be coffee snobs, but they’re coffee snobs with good intentions who really know their stuff.

They often look something like this and yes, we do hate Starbucks!

Then we have that whole silly business with titty coffee, lol.  Oh well.

HE Names Each Star?

 

                       MIND FAIRLY SERIOUSLY BLOWN

I Looked Up, or What It Is

 

When I Open The Door-Its Alive Out There

OOPsie.  I lost the whole damn thing.  That's what I get for messing with it.

 

Please bear with me.  I don't have a single serious bone in my body today.

All Through The Night, or A Sunday Kind of Love

 Thoughts flicker through my semi-sleeping mind during the night as I think of things to say here.  As if it were of some importance.  lol.  But I do think on it.  

One of the things I was talking with my grandson about a couple days ago were artifacts in language, which don't actually mean anything.  He is in a position in life where it is very important for me to communicate real meaning to him.  He thinks communism is some kind of answer.  So I fight on.

The used to say "What is the sound of one hand clapping", right?  

Then I would say "What is the sound of one duck quacking".  Because you can say all kinds of stuff, arrange words on a page, but there is no meaning there.  I pray to reflect meaning to him, and he does listen to me.

But then I am distracted by the impossible beauty.

Shabbat Shalom All You Ketz und Kittiez

Take a load off!  Its the seventh day.  The day we turn our strivings on  their heads and put first things first.  That's the plan anyhow.

Traditionally, this is the day we model as best we can living in the Messianic Future Kingdom.  No work, just recreation and putting the Creator first.

Now, as it happens, cats are very good at this.  So take a lesson from the kitties, who don't do a lick, hardly ever!

 Also, they are deadly stylish.

What A Story This Will All Be Someday

 It only looks this way now. 

 We're all waiting for a surprise wedding.   Looking for something to wear.

But, I hear we get a wedding garment such as was never seen on earth before.

Meanwhile, gotta get that ball rolling today.

I Have A Couple Of Errands To Run Today

 This morning I need to drive my sister to the surgery center for repair on the shoulder she tore taking her epic header down her basement stairs.  We have to be there right before 6AM.  A friend will pick her up later today so I don't have that duty.  

After that I will be delivering my daughter to the airfield up here that just recently opened to passenger service.  Its lovely not to have to trek down to SeaTac!!

Then I will trundle home.

Its going to rain.  Will be a coolish day.

Its Been A Long Time, Some Manifestations Lately

 Oddly enough, this painting by Gustaf Klimt called the Golden Forest is similar in flavor to the photo of the forest yesterday, but just stylized.  I am mad for this painting and I haven't seen anything that made me want to paint again as much as it does.

I had a nightmare last night.  It was disturbing enough that I cried out audibly. Its been a long time.  I thought I had fought that fight years ago.  Also, very bad imagery came to me yesterday as I was attempting to nap.  Hm.  So, perhaps my defenses are down.  Or perhaps the days are evil, in a way, though also the days are glorious because we live and have our being in G*d Almighty, the Everlasting Father.

Talk, Oh Tuesday, Whatcha Got?

The Jackdaw commences.  A photo here, a song there, bits of shiny foil and a couple fancy cigarette butts.  All to build an ephemeral nest of sorts.

We find ourselves this Tuesday observing a world we barely recognize.  But lets be lighthearted and kind, lets brighten the world a tiny bit.

 And let us be prepared for all eventualities.  Well some of them.  (I notice that Blogger likes to mess up links to songs a bit, such as on yesterday's post.  I can't control that I guess.)

I Have Not Seen Him, No Not Once

Oh, come out and dance,

Man of the forest, secretive thumper!

Caller of oaths unknown.  I promise to take your photo real nice, man! I bet you would like a bunch of manmade carrots.  How about lunch some time?

Are you real, or do we just need you.  I want to believe.  I do.

Remember Dr. Bronner? All One, Faith Love and Etc?

Anyone who survived the 60s and 70s on the west coast probably remembers Dr Bronner's famous soaps.  They were a thing.  Many dirty hippies probably were not actually dirty!

https://www.drbronner.com/about/ourselves/the-dr-bronners-story/

A nice history. 

 I didn't know all that about him.  Was a fan of the soap, but above all the crazy labels!  Entrancing.  Wild. Thought provoking. LOL, hilarious too.

So from the bowels of the 1960s I give you "Dr." Bronner, an American by choice lovable nutcase, who made good strong soap and could hand out a solid chunk of philosophy!

Sure Makes Sense To Me, or parsing the creative process

I can sure attest to the the accuracy of what he says.  Its half intention and half miracle or the words or the pictures have a future that you bring to fruition. 

Honestly, it was a rough night.  Drinking coffee, taking pills and trying to get going in some small way.

One funny thing that happened yesterday.  The boys who put in the new router and all that junk in were just a couple of big Mexican kids.  Pretty poker faced.  Now on my computer right now, for desktop decoration I have a really cool photo of one of those fancy Mexican car grills, gold and all kinds of stuff.  When they saw that, it was grins.  They probably think I am an aficionado. 

A Time That Never Was, And Can Never Be, But I Love It Anyhow

 Though I've never been in saddle myself, I have a pretty good sense of the true old west and I am old enough for memory.  I mostly remember riding the Portland Rose down to Gooding Idaho where the train station was and meeting the Idaho grandparents at the station early in the morning.  

It would be summer.  The light just coming up.  A hot day getting tuned up.

They had a Studebaker car for a while.  I remember riding in the front down on the floor because there was a little air vent down there that I liked.

At the Gooding station with mother, grandfather and little sister.  70 years ago!  How can it be?

Anyhow, I have seen a lot of tumbleweeds and I like em! 

We are having a nice thunderstorm right now!

Maybe a Little Book Report For Oddity's Sake

 Among the few leftovers of my predecessors lives I have this book owned by my great grandfather , Alf Rosen.  I had no idea he was into such stuff.

Upon looking it up, I find that its pretty much about hypnosis!  Goodness Grampa!

https://www.loc.gov/item/16007481/

I wonder if he ever tried it!!  These old timers were great believers in electricity it seems!

Who (HOO!) Wrote The Book of Love

                                                                               💗

Bare, teehee, with me a moment here.  Words have been skittering around under my scalp and I will try to pin some of them down.  They tickle.

    All night I was considering the part of the  human brain or mind that deals with the prophetic voice, or poetry, or what some call ecstatic speech.  I have done much speaking in tongues, its a strange feeling to hear speech come out of your own mouth that you did not participate in the meaning of.

Is it a pre-literate trait of humanity?  Minus inspiration what is it?  

If I may for a moment posit some sort of human evolution, did we become like our Creator when this trait switched on and the breath of life, words, entered us.  

I think of Marshall McLuhan.  I think he said, without looking it up, "we shape our words and thereafter our words shape us".  Meaning seems to be born as the words are said or written down.  What is it to be human?  "She was a wordish bitch" I hope they put on my stone.  Wordy would be going too far.  She hasn't written enough to be called wordy.

Consider the infant and his struggle to hear and be heard.