Closer to Fine (Indigo Girls)

"There's more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line..."

Glimmers.  I've seen the word before in others' writings, and I've referred to it elsewhere in this blog.  It's so easy to get stuck, mired, enveloped in the fog of grief.  Getting out of bed each morning feels insurmountable... putting one foot in front of the other to get through the day is challenging... coming to grips that your loved one is gone forever is still impossible to fathom.  And for a while that's all you can see.  Darkness.  Yeah, I realize the irony.

Yet, every once in a while, glimmers appear.  Small, brief, barely recognizable... but they're there.  Like fireflies.  And they speak of possibilities.  

And it won't be the default anytime soon, but Fun is finding its way back into our MossFam dynamic... and Laughter... and Joy.  Rob uncharacteristically called a Family Dinner into action tonight (it's usually *me* herding the cats).  I picked up pizza on the way over to Sarah's.  The theme was "New Year, New Me, New E".  There was a heartfelt toast.  We didn't know what to expect, but it morphed into an evening with Willie Nelson, Bette Midler/Annie, Will from Stranger Things, a mermaid, Slash, Kris Jenner (and Kris Jenner as a blonde!), and a cranky Dennis the Menace who was not amused, had to be bribed with brownies, and even then snarled his way through our photo-ops.  And it was very good... 💖💖💖💖💖

"It's only life after all, yeah..."

SONG:  Closer to Fine by Indigo Girls

BOOK:  Grief Glimmers Grace by Betsy B. Murphy

POEM(S):  The Edge by Donna Ashworth

Standing at the edge of a new chapter can be scary. 

The desire to run back into the pages you know so well, 

is more than tempting. But you must keep moving. 

Chapters end, even the good ones. 

And if you linger in the past too long, 

your story cannot unfold the way it should. 

And you might just miss the most beautiful moments of your life, 

whilst grieving the ones gone by. 

It’s scary at the edge, my friend, I know. 

But just jump. You have so much ahead. 

And the good stuff behind, will always be there.

The Way It Is by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Over and over we break

open, we break and

we break and we open.

For a while, we try to fix

the vessel—as if

to be broken is bad.

As if with glue and tape

and a steady hand we

might bring things to perfect

again. As if they were ever

perfect. As if to be broken is not

also perfect. As if to be open

is not the path toward joy.

The vase that’s been shattered

and cracked will never

hold water. Eventually

it will leak. And at some

point, perhaps, we decide

that we’re done with picking

our flowers anyway, and no

longer need a place to contain them

We watch them grow just

as wildflowers do—unfenced,

unmanaged, blossoming only

when they’re ready—and my god,

how beautiful they are amidst

the mounting pile of shards.

QUOTE(S):  "Without suffering, there's no happiness. So we shouldn't discriminate against the mud. We have to learn how to embrace and cradle our own suffering and the suffering of the world, with a lot of tenderness." ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

“Don’t get me wrong: grief sucks, it really does. Unfortunately, though, avoiding it robs us of life, of the now, of a sense of living spirit.” ~ Anne Lamott

"Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place." ~ Rumi

Singing from the Window (Dave Matthews)

Much to feel good about this week.  Through a series of interesting circumstances I reconnected with a sister of my best friend in high school. Mary still makes pottery, and I am going to order another piece from her soon.

Had an impromptu meet-up with Sarah, Colin, and Eric in the far parking lot of Sarah's apartment complex, where drawing/writing with chalk is the highlight.  I asked S if he sleeps with them, because he double-fists throughout. "He would if I let him", she responded.  Always a lift. He is so smart and adorable (not that I'm biased or anything...  ;-)

Thanks to my sister Mari (she called herself my "Facebook Cliffs Notes" but I changed that to "Facebook Guru") for telling me about the conversation with Indigo Girls, Glennon Doyle, and Abby Wambach last night.  Was hoping I could view through YouTube, but no...  Jumped back onto FB (temporarily) for 90 minutes of wisdom, tears, and smiles, as they all interviewed each other.  Actually found a link to share, and I plan to re-watch later today.

And today is NancyW's birthday!  We arranged a Zoom meeting with Nance, Judi, Suzanne, and myself... but little did she know we were surprising her with other friends popping in:  SusanP, Brian, Sarah/Colin.  Invited a few others who had to work or couldn't make it.  Conversation and laughter ensued, and of course there was cake, a card, and singing... 💖

So, as is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy!  


~ Turning Your Backyard Into a Vacation Spot:  With summer camps shut down and beach vacations seeming risky, homeowners are investing in ways to create a summer retreat at home.


~ Simple Stretches to Combat All That Sitting:  Done correctly, these restorative stretches, working on muscles from your eyes to your toes, really do make you feel better.


~ For Those Who (Privately) Aspire to Become More Reclusive (thanks to Michele for this beautifully insightful article; also, check out The Book of Life website...  :-)


~ The End of Meat Is Here:  If you care about the working poor, about racial justice, and about climate change, you have to stop eating animals.


~ Kacey Musgraves sings "Burn One With John Prine" to John Prine


SONG:  Singing from the Window by Dave Matthews

BOOK:  Notes on a Nervous Planet by Matt Haig

POEM:  Everyone Sang by Siegfried Sassoon

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark-green fields; on - on - and out of sight.

Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted;
And beauty came like the setting sun:
My heart was shaken with tears; and horror
Drifted away ... O, but Everyone
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

QUOTE(S):  "Experience life in all possible ways ~ good-bad, bitter-sweet, dark-light, summer-winter. Experience all the dualities. Don't be afraid of experience, because the more experience you have, the more mature you become." ~ Osho

“The shortest distance between two people is a song.” ~ Edith Barnard

Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters (Elton John)

While reading Untamed by Glennon Doyle, I ran across the passage below (had no idea about this theory):

When we visited the Louvre, we entered the Mona Lisa room and found a crowd of hundreds pushing, jostling, selfie-ing all around her.

   I stared from a distance, trying to appreciate her. I really didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. I wondered if all the jostling people understood or if they were just acting like they did. A woman walked over and stood next to me.

   She said, “You know, there’s a theory about her smile. Want to hear it?”

   “Yes, please,” I said.

   “Mona Lisa and her husband lost a baby. Sometime later, her husband commissioned this painting from da Vinci to celebrate the birth of another baby. Mona Lisa sat for Leonardo to paint her, but she wouldn’t smile during the sitting. Not all the way. The story goes that da Vinci wanted her to smile wider, but she refused. She did not want the joy she felt for her new baby to erase the pain she felt from losing the first. There in her half smile is her half joy. Or maybe it’s her full joy and her full grief all at the same time. She has the look of a woman who has just realized a dream but still carries the lost dream inside her. She wanted her whole life to be present on her face. She wanted everyone to remember, so she wouldn’t pretend.”

   Now I understand what the fuss is all about. Mona Lisa is the patron saint of honest, resolute, fully human women—women who feel and who know. She is saying for us:

   Don’t tell me to smile.

   I will not be pleasant.

   Even trapped here, inside two dimensions, you will see the truth.

   You will see my life’s brutal and beautiful right here on my face.

   The world will not be able to stop staring.


SONG:  Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters by Elton John (everybody knows his version, so here's a cool cover by the Indigo Girls...  :-)

BOOK:  Katie and the Mona Lisa by James Mayhew

POEM:  The Aerodynamics by Rick Bursky

The night she walked to the house
she held a string; on the other end,
fifty-three feet in the air, a kite.
Wind provided the aerodynamics.
Does every collaboration
need to be explained?
She tied the string to the mailbox
left the kite to float until morning.
Every night this happens.
She sleeps, I listen, darkness
slides through us both.

The next morning
the string still curved into the sky
but the kite was gone.
This was the morning
newspapers announced
the Mona Lisa was stolen***.
This was the morning
it snowed in Los Angeles,
the morning I wore gloves
to pull from the sky
fifty-three feet of frozen string.

***From The Writer's Almanac:  On August 21, 1911 the Mona Lisa was stolen from the Louvre Museum in Paris, France. The theft was pulled off so well that no one even noticed.

The next day, an artist named Louis Béroud went to the Louvre, intending to paint a girl doing her hair in the reflection from the pane of glass in front of the Mona Lisa. He wanted his painting to be a commentary on the debate around putting glass in front of paintings in the Louvre.

But when he got to the wall where the painting usually hung, it wasn't there. He asked the guards, and they said it was probably being photographed. But it wasn't with the photographers. The director of the museum, Théophile Homolle, was out of town — a man who had said the year before, "Steal the Mona Lisa?You might as well pretend that one could steal the towers of the Cathedral of Notre Dame." Finally, museum officials got together and the police were called in, and everyone realized that the Mona Lisa was really gone.

The Louvre was shut down for a week to search every inch of it for the missing painting — since the Louvre takes up 49 acres, it was no easy task. But all they found was the frame and piece of glass.

More than two years later, in Italy, the thief contacted an art dealer and offered to sell him the Mona Lisa for $100,000. The art dealer met him, along with the director of the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. The thief, Vincenzo Peruggia, explained that all he wanted was to return the Mona Lisa to Italy where it belonged. He said he would sell it as long as the men promised to hang it at the Uffizi and not let it go back to Paris. Peruggia was, of course, arrested, and the Mona Lisa was sent back to the Louvre … but not until it went on a tour across Italy.

QUOTE:  "Is the Mona Lisa an 'accurate' representation of the actual human model for the painting? Who knows? Who cares? It's a great piece of art. It moves us. It makes us wonder, makes us gape - finally makes us look inward at ourselves." ~ Tim O'Brien

Romeo and Juliet (Dire Straits)

So... I was having a discussion with a friend Saturday (Hi, Mel!) about the song Romeo and Juliet - she prefers the Indigo Girls' version and, as much as I love them as a songwriting duo, I'm obsessed with the original by Dire Straits. The former is too urgently strident for my taste, while the latter is more achingly plaintive - in either case, whether a wailed Julie or a whispered Juliet, it's a stunningly classic tune I've loved for decades. Who can resist "all I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme, I'd do the stars with you anytime"? - swoon... :-)

There is an amazing live version of R & J on Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris' All the Roadrunning CD - it kicks off with a jaw-droppingly gorgeous piano solo and then segues into a 9-minute tour de force, which I listened to four times in a row, loudly, on my 30+ minute drive to Ft. Lauderdale for a meeting this evening!

All this of course motivated me to make a Shakespeare-themed mix CD, which I'll work on tomorrow morning before I go to work and give to my friend Stephen/Mosh (who lives in Massachusetts) tomorrow evening - his parents rent a condo in Delray Beach for a few months every year, and he comes down to visit for a week. He's my Falcon Ridge buddy, and I adore his mom and dad as well - looking forward to a nice dinner together and catching up on each other's lives!

P.S. I'll add the final tracklist to this post in the next few days - I'll also ensure the compilation makes it into the hands of a few interested parties (see above-mentioned Mel, who I must thank for the inspiration... :-)

SONG: Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits

BOOK: Shakespeare A to Z: The Essential Reference to His Plays, His Poems, His Life and Times, and More by Charles Boyce

POEM: The Bargain by Cyrus Cassells

In the transatlantic fury
when I feared
I might not survive
to see Florence,
clutching an elfin
Love Sonnets of Shakespeare,
I implored:
Lord, let me live
long enough to dare
a love poem—
In time, of course, the skies
stopped glowering.

And in the Tuscan summer's imperial
segue into autumn,
poetry burgeoned—
It's not only the active grace,
the glory between us:
these praise songs spring
from a holy bargain,
from my deepest desire
to live.

QUOTE: "Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs." ~ William Shakespeare

History of Us (Indigo Girls)

I have a meeting tonight which can't be rescheduled - however, my husband and I are planning to sip champagne in the jacuzzi afterwards. Works for me - cheers to love, young and old... :-)

The History of Valentine's Day

Every February, across the country, candy, flowers, and gifts are exchanged between loved ones, all in the name of St. Valentine. But who is this mysterious saint and why do we celebrate this holiday? The history of Valentine's Day -- and its patron saint -- is shrouded in mystery. But we do know that February has long been a month of romance. St. Valentine's Day, as we know it today, contains vestiges of both Christian and ancient Roman tradition. So, who was Saint Valentine and how did he become associated with this ancient rite? Today, the Catholic Church recognizes at least three different saints named Valentine or Valentinus, all of whom were martyred.

One legend contends that Valentine was a priest who served during the third century in Rome. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men -- his crop of potential soldiers. Valentine, realizing the injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret. When Valentine's actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death.

Other stories suggest that Valentine may have been killed for attempting to help Christians escape harsh Roman prisons where they were often beaten and tortured.

According to one legend, Valentine actually sent the first 'valentine' greeting himself. While in prison, it is believed that Valentine fell in love with a young girl -- who may have been his jailor's daughter -- who visited him during his confinement. Before his death, it is alleged that he wrote her a letter, which he signed 'From your Valentine,' an expression that is still in use today. Although the truth behind the Valentine legends is murky, the stories certainly emphasize his appeal as a sympathetic, heroic, and, most importantly, romantic figure. It's no surprise that by the Middle Ages, Valentine was one of the most popular saints in England and France.

While some believe that Valentine's Day is celebrated in the middle of February to commemorate the anniversary of Valentine's death or burial -- which probably occurred around 270 A.D -- others claim that the Christian church may have decided to celebrate Valentine's feast day in the middle of February in an effort to 'christianize' celebrations of the pagan Lupercalia festival. In ancient Rome, February was the official beginning of spring and was considered a time for purification. Houses were ritually cleansed by sweeping them out and then sprinkling salt and a type of wheat called spelt throughout their interiors. Lupercalia, which began at the ides of February, February 15, was a fertility festival dedicated to Faunus, the Roman god of agriculture, as well as to the Roman founders Romulus and Remus.

To begin the festival, members of the Luperci, an order of Roman priests, would gather at the sacred cave where the infants Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, were believed to have been cared for by a she-wolf or lupa. The priests would then sacrifice a goat, for fertility, and a dog, for purification.

The boys then sliced the goat's hide into strips, dipped them in the sacrificial blood and took to the streets, gently slapping both women and fields of crops with the goathide strips. Far from being fearful, Roman women welcomed being touched with the hides because it was believed the strips would make them more fertile in the coming year. Later in the day, according to legend, all the young women in the city would place their names in a big urn. The city's bachelors would then each choose a name out of the urn and become paired for the year with his chosen woman.

These matches often ended in marriage. Pope Gelasius declared February 14 St. Valentine's Day around 498 A.D. The Roman 'lottery' system for romantic pairing was deemed un-Christian and outlawed.

Later, during the Middle Ages, it was commonly believed in France and England that February 14 was the beginning of birds' mating season, which added to the idea that the middle of February -- Valentine's Day -- should be a day for romance. The oldest known valentine still in existence today was a poem written by Charles, Duke of Orleans to his wife while he was imprisoned in the Tower of London following his capture at the Battle of Agincourt. The greeting, which was written in 1415, is part of the manuscript collection of the British Library in London, England. Several years later, it is believed that King Henry V hired a writer named John Lydgate to compose a valentine note to Catherine of Valois.

In Great Britain, Valentine's Day began to be popularly celebrated around the seventeenth century. By the middle of the eighteenth century, it was common for friends and lovers in all social classes to exchange small tokens of affection or handwritten notes. By the end of the century, printed cards began to replace written letters due to improvements in printing technology. Ready-made cards were an easy way for people to express their emotions in a time when direct expression of one's feelings was discouraged. Cheaper postage rates also contributed to an increase in the popularity of sending Valentine's Day greetings. Americans probably began exchanging hand-made valentines in the early 1700s. In the 1840s, Esther A. Howland began to sell the first mass-produced valentines in America.

According to the Greeting Card Association, an estimated one billion valentine cards are sent each year, making Valentine's Day the second largest card-sending holiday of the year. (An estimated 2.6 billion cards are sent for Christmas.)

Approximately 85 percent of all valentines are purchased by women. In addition to the United States, Valentine's Day is celebrated in Canada, Mexico, the United Kingdom, France, and Australia.

Valentine greetings were popular as far back as the Middle Ages (written Valentine's didn't begin to appear until after 1400), and the oldest known Valentine card is on display at the British Museum. The first commercial Valentine's Day greeting cards produced in the U.S. were created in the 1840s by Esther A. Howland. Howland, known as the Mother of the Valentine, made elaborate creations with real lace, ribbons and colorful pictures known as "scrap".

SONG: History of Us by Indigo Girls

BOOK: Isn't It Romantic: 100 Love Poems By Younger American Poets by Brett Fletcher Lauer, Aimee Kelley (Editors)

POEM: Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms,

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.

Thanks to your love a certain fragrance,

risen darkly from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride,

so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where "I" does not exist, nor "you,"

So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

So close that your eyes close and I fall asleep.

QUOTE: "Love seems the swiftest, but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century." ~ Mark Twain

Language or the Kiss (The Indigo Girls)

Still feeling overwhelmed and less verbal than usual - the best cure for that is live music, and I'm headed down to a local coffeehouse to hear the most amazing Sam Pacetti (video above)...

The following appeared in my inbox today - the title is The Music of Language... but I believe the converse is true as well ("and music was my church" indeed... :-)

P.S. It's midnight and I'm just back from seeing Sam - I apparently conjured the song in the video this evening, as it was his first set opener, without any prompting from me - he began the second set with This Shirt, one of my favorite Mary Chapin Carpenter tunes. The remainder of Sam's repertoire was magical, ranging from other eclectic covers (Tom Petty, Greg Brown and Bob Marley) to his stunning originals - plus... he's a guitar wizard with an incredibly captivating voice. Sam feeds my soul, not only with his music but with his spirit as well - I come away from his concerts (and after-show conversations) feeling equally blissed out and regenerated...

Today's DailyOM
November 2, 2007
The Music Of Language
Words Are Energy

When we speak or write, we use the vehicles of words to carry meaning, as well as energy, from ourselves to another person or group of people. We may be speaking to our baby, our boss, or to an audience of 500 people. We may be writing a love letter, a work-related memo, or an entry in our own diary. Whatever the case, each word we speak or write has a life of its own, a vibratory signature that creates waves in the same way that a note of music creates waves. And like musical notes, our words live in communities of other words and change in relation to the words that surround them. When we are conscious of the energy behind our words, we become capable of making beautiful music in the world. If we are unconscious of the power of words, we run the risk of creating a noisy disturbance.

Some of us know this instinctively, while others come to this understanding slowly. Most of us, though, speak without thinking at least some of the time, blurting out our feelings and thoughts without much regard for the words we choose to express them. When we remind ourselves that our words have an impact on the world at the level of energy, we may find within ourselves the desire to be more aware of our use of language.

A fun way to increase our sensitivity to the power of words is to simply make a list of our favorite words and notice the energy they contain. We can write them down and post them where we can see them, or we can speak them aloud, feeling them reverberate in our bodies and in the air around us. This is like learning to consciously play an instrument that we have been playing unconsciously for most of our lives, and the effect can be startling and delightful. As we grow more comfortable and confident playing the instrument of language, we will begin to compose beautiful messages, creating positive energy every time we write or speak.

SONG: Language or the Kiss by The Indigo Girls

BOOK: Musical Languages by Joseph P. Swain

POEM: Prefix: Finding the Measure by Robert Kelly

Finding the measure is finding the mantram,
is finding the moon, as index of measure,
is finding the moon's source;
if that source
is Sun, finding the measure is finding
the natural articulation of ideas.

The organism
of the macrocosm, the organism of language,
the organism of I combine in ceaseless naturing
to propagate a fourth,
the poem,
from their trinity.

Style is death. Finding the measure is finding
a freedom from that death, a way out, a movement
forward.
Finding the measure is finding the
specific music of the hour,
the synchronous
consequence of the motion of the whole world.

QUOTE: "Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow." ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes

The Wood Song (The Indigo Girls)

Continuing along the ocean/journey (outward and inward) theme, I recently rediscovered the following essay by Clarissa Pinkola Estes - enjoy!

Letter to a Young Activist During Troubled Times

Mis estimados: Do not lose heart. We were made for these times. I have heard from so many recently who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world right now... Ours is a time of almost daily astonishment and often righteous rage over the latest degradations of what matters most to civilized, visionary people.

You are right in your assessments. The lustre and hubris some have aspired to while endorsing acts so heinous against children, elders, everyday people, the poor, the unguarded, the helpless, is breathtaking. Yet, I urge you, ask you, gentle you, to please not spend your spirit dry by bewailing these difficult times. Especially do not lose hope. Most particularly because, the fact is we were made for these times. Yes. For years, we have been learning, practicing, been in training for and just waiting to meet on this exact plain of engagement...

I grew up on the Great Lakes and recognize a seaworthy vessel when I see one. Regarding awakened souls, there have never been more able crafts in the waters than there are right now across the world. And they are fully provisioned and able to signal one another as never before in the history of humankind... Look out over the prow; there are millions of boats of righteous souls on the waters with you. Even though your veneers may shiver from every wave in this stormy roil, I assure you that the long timbers composing your prow and rudder come from a greater forest. That long-grained lumber is known to withstand storms, to hold together, to hold its own, and to advance, regardless.

We have been in training for a dark time such as this, since the day we assented to come to Earth. For many decades, worldwide, souls just like us have been felled and left for dead in so many ways over and over brought down by naivete, by lack of love, by being ambushed and assaulted by various cultural and personal shocks in the extreme. We have a history of being gutted, and yet remember this especially - we have also, of necessity, perfected the knack of resurrection. Over and over again we have been the living proof that that which has been exiled, lost, or foundered can be restored to life again.

In any dark time, there is a tendency to veer toward fainting over how much is wrong or unmended in the world. Do not focus on that. There is a tendency too to fall into being weakened by perseverating on what is outside your reach, by what cannot yet be. Do not focus there. That is spending the wind without raising the sails. We are needed, that is all we can know. And though we meet resistance, we more so will meet great souls who will hail us, love us and guide us, and we will know them when they appear. Didn't you say you were a believer? Didn't you say you pledged to listen to a voice greater? Didn't you ask for grace? Don't you remember that to be in grace means to submit to the voice greater?...

Understand the paradox: If you study the physics of a waterspout, you will see that the outer vortex whirls far more quickly than the inner one. To calm the storm means to quiet the outer layer, to cause it to swirl much less, to more evenly match the velocity of the inner core - 'til whatever has been lifted into such a vicious funnel falls back to Earth, lays down, is peaceable again. One of the most important steps you can take to help calm the storm is to not allow yourself to be taken in a flurry of overwrought emotion or desperation thereby accidentally contributing to the swale and the swirl.

Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely. It is not given to us to know which acts or by whom, will cause the critical mass to tip toward an enduring good. What is needed for dramatic change is an accumulation of acts, adding, adding to, adding more, continuing. We know that it does not take "everyone on Earth" to bring justice and peace, but only a small, determined group who will not give up during the first, second, or hundredth gale.

One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these - to be fierce and to show mercy toward others, both, are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.

There will always be times when you feel discouraged. I too have felt despair many times in my life, but I do not keep a chair for it; I will not entertain it. It is not allowed to eat from my plate. The reason is this: In my uttermost bones I know something, as do you. It is that there can be no despair when you remember why you came to Earth, who you serve, and who sent you here. The good words we say and the good deeds we do are not ours: They are the words and deeds of the One who brought us here. In that spirit, I hope you will write this on your wall: When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for.

This comes with much love and prayer that you remember who you came from, and why you came to this beautiful, needful Earth, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D

SONG(S): The Wood Song by The Indigo Girls

Ships by Tom Kimmel and Michael Lille (I could not find lyrics to the entire song, but here's the most popular snippet, which Clarissa refers to in her next-to-last line).

BOOK: After the Storm: True Stories of Disaster and Recovery at Sea by John Rousmaniere

POEM: I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone by Rainer Maria Rilke

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.
I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be
true before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everday jug,
like my mother's face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.

QUOTE: "If you want to build a ship, don't herd people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea." ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Galileo (The Indigo Girls)

Your Horoscope for AUGUST 8, 2007

Today's planetary configuration is very good for writers, SUSAN. Likely you are finding it easier to write. Take advantage of these auspicious conditions to put down all of your ideas on paper. You will thank yourself on those days when you lack ideas. Think of it as loading up the woodpile to feed your intellectual fire during the months ahead.

From Wikipedia: "Galileo Galilei (Feb. 15, 1564 - Jan. 8, 1641) was an Italian physicist, mathematician, astronomer and philosopher closely associated with the scientific revolution. His achievements include the first systematic studies of uniformly accelerated motion, improvements to the telescope, a variety of astronomical observations and support for Copernicanism. Galileo is often referred to as the "father of modern observational astronomy", as the "father of modern physics" and as the "father of science". The motion of uniformly accelerated objects, taught in nearly all high school and introductory college physics courses, was studied by Galileo as the subject of kinematics.

Although he tried to remain loyal to the Catholic Church, Galileo's adherence to experimental results, and their most honest interpretation, led to his rejection of blind allegiance to authority, both philosophical and religious, in matters of science. In broader terms, this helped separate science from both philosophy and religion, a major development in human thought."

Hmmmm, due to time/energy constraints, I don't yet seem to be in a place of "loading up the woodpile" - I'm feeling more motivated, though, for when it finally does unleash...

P.S. Apropos of nothing, but reminded because of the imagery in the poem (to which I can totally relate)... I hate squirrels (sorry) - as Carrie from Sex and the City says, "a squirrel is just a rat in a cuter outfit" (right, M?... :-)

SONG(S): Galileo by The Indigo Girls

Did Galileo Pray? by Ellis Paul

BOOK: The Varieties of Scientific Experience: A Personal View of the Search for God by Carl Sagan

POEM: I Remember Galileo by Gerald Stern

I remember Galileo describing the mind

as a piece of paper blown around by the wind,

and I loved the sight of it sticking to a tree,

or jumping into the backseat of a car,

and for years I watched paper leap through my cities;

but yesterday I saw the mind was a squirrel caught crossing

Route 80 between the wheels of a giant truck,

dancing back and forth like a thin leaf,

or a frightened string, for only two seconds living

on the white concrete before he got away,

his life shortened by all that terror, his head

jerking, his yellow teeth ground down to dust.

It was the speed of the squirrel and his lowness to the ground,

his great purpose and the alertness of his dancing,

that showed me the difference between him and paper.

Paper will do in theory, when there is time

to sit back in a metal chair and study shadows;

but for this life I need a squirrel,

his clawed feet spread, his whole soul quivering,

the loud noise shaking him from head to tail.

O philosophical mind, O mind of paper, I need a squirrel

finishing his wild dash across the highway,

rushing up his green ungoverned hillside.

QUOTE: "Scientists were rated as great heretics by the church, but they were truly religious men because of their faith in the orderliness of the universe." ~ Albert Einstein