Happy Birthday Joel

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I made this for him, or to represent him, or for something, I don’t know. I made it after he died. And there it is. I would give anything to hold him once again, to kiss his fat baby cheeks, to have that time again. Those times, those days, those summers and winters, that boy, my son. Stay with me, comfort me.

Strawberry Fields

KennyS

posted by KennySstrawberryfields on Instagram

 Does everyone remember “Strawberry Fields Forever”?

And so now that it has come to me, there are certain flowers come into bloom, or are planted or picked, I break into song. Daffodils? “When daffodils begin to shine, hey the doxie over the dale…” Petunias? “I’m a lonely little petunia…”

And on I sing and the flowers grow…

Below is the strawberry I planted in my courtyard in Manitou and was so proud of. Many more buds and fruits came to join us. And so we sang.

 

 

Memories of Squeek

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Above we have Squeek practicing to be a comma. She did succeed, and impressed many. She would also sit on command.

And here we have Squeek in one of her many box hideouts. She built compounds of plastic bags, boxes, and box tops. Though she wasn’t much for physical activities, she hid out well.

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But the most wonderful thing about that beautiful creature is how she would look directly at anyone who was speaking. To hold her, cuddle her by turing her over, belly up, she would keep her gaze on you as if speaking soul to soul. Gorgeous black eyes. I feel honored to have had her in my life.

Squeek

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Each time there is a new loss, you’d think it would be easier but it isn’t. It’s harder. Each time they crack the heart just a little more. Each time there’s one more to remember, to meet with the other memories, the other losses. Each time you say, goodbye my love, goodbye. Thanks for being here. Thanks for your dear sweet soul.

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.

Wondering Wonder

wonderWorld

Posted by Wonderful World

It is so impressive when someone can make a work of art from something in nature without destroying the original. See here this Tree-Woman. Each blends into the other and in so doing makes another whole. I wonder how long it took to grow this tree in the fashion of the art. I wonder if it’s like Michelangelo said, It’s not that you make the object into something—you release what is already there within.

Sshhhhhhsh…

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It’s just that sort of day…the type wherein the mind bolts from containment. Too much, too much, too much…  So, herein, methinks whatsoever I choose will work. Or not. But of no matter. For what is a “matter” anyway?

Isn’t it odd and fun how a word loses all meaning and sense when it is said repeatedly?

Today is brought to you by yesterday and tomorrow has no significance. Yet the same thing will occur, over and over.

amazWorld

posted by Amazing World

Lines for Posterity:

Happy Birthday, Raymond Chandler July 23, 2013 | by Sadie Stein

“Tall, aren’t you?” she said.

“I didn’t mean to be.”

Her eyes rounded. She was puzzled. She was thinking. I could see, even on that short acquaintance, that thinking was always going to be a bother to her.

—Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep

And then: The Viking god, Odin, had two ravens, Hugin (thought) and Munin (memory), which flew around the world every day and reported back to Odin every night about what they saw. I have a friend who is certain that all of the creatures, birds, dogs, wolves, all, are taking note of what we do and say. They then report back to Heaven (God, et.al.) who then takes that in to account for our personal record. Heavenly spies, I guess.

“But knowledge does not protect one. Life is contemptuous of knowledge; it forces it to sit in the anterooms, to wait outside. Passion, energy, lies: these are what life admires.” James Salter, Light Years

horse

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The Japanese understood the connection between horses and women, females. They knew, understood, painted them together, in a certain light. That is how you capture, and keep.

I wish you love, and redemption. Then you might make it okay. Redemption is Forgiveness earned.

OMWsecretGarden

Old Woman Secret Garden