Month: October 2017

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Fishing?

qworldawakwnBlkHeron

Posted: Quantum World: Awaken Your Mind

This is a photo of a black heron. They are not in a mating dance, which was my first thought. Nor are they getting ready to fly off. They are casting a shadow over the water so that they can see their prey better, distinguish those moving morsels from other things underneath. What I want to know then, is this fishing? Hunting? What is it?

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Happy Birthday

Ludi

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Yo Yo Ma’s primary performance instrument is a Montagnana Cello, built in 1733, valued at 16 Cr INR (2.5 Million USD).
Yo Yo is the Willie Nelson of the classical world. He’ll play a duet with anyone! And he’ll explain things. Once, when I was watching him with his son at the piano, Yo Yo was quite going on about musical concepts. You could see his son getting more and more impatient. And he said, (a few times) “let’s play.” Ma would say, “Just a minute,” and speak on. Finally the boy turned to the piano and began playing. Ma said, “Oh!” and drew his bow around and began playing at once, having to quickly catch up. Ah yes, the power of children to do what adults cannot!
Play On!
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Today

Quantam

Posted by Quantum World: awaken your mind

And this is about all I can do today. Still struggling to look out from underneath the blanket of despair. That’s difficult when all you want to do is escape from your own mind.

Tom Petty

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Janis

NPRdjanis

Posted by NPR

She died some time this week, 47 years ago. Forty-seven years. I was driving down some street in Iowa City on my way to university when I heard the news on the radio. And there it was. The first thoughts are…No…No…what now?…who will sing those songs for us…who will know?…No…

When I got to the classroom it was silent. No one saying a word. The students in their chairs, the prof standing in front, leaning against the desk. In that silence, in that room on a beautiful day in Iowa City, we were struck. In the confusion of loss and sorrow

APjanisJoplin

AP—Janis Joplin, Woodstock

it was as if we all knew, all at once, that words could not—should not—be spoken. There was that current underneath, that whirlpool of something else that made words insignificant. There would never be enough, never enough of anything. No one else spoke Soul to Soul. No one else could sing the Blues. She was lost to us, and it was we, we who could not save her.