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Back to Jotting

I have had to come back to revive my site and do some posting as I keep thinking of things and wanting to jot them down. For instance this morning (long ago now)—as I accidentally consumed the last gingersnap cookie—I thought that was just wrong. You should never have the last of anything without being aware of it. What an unsatisfactory ending. Like falling into a pit because you didn’t know it was there. (Only a slight exaggeration psychologically.)

In the interval—that is, between when I started the above first sentence and now—I had to go out to refill the frog fountain on the patio table. Because when I stood up from here I saw the watering jug. That’s how things start. That’s how I ended up with a garden on my patio table in the first place.

Here are some photos to show you the Before. Before the deer come to drink from the frog pool and eat the pink blossoms off the fuschia and make it so that I have to go out and bemoan the fact that I ever made friends with mama deer in the first place.

This is mama deer:

This is mama deer with Zeus:

Now mama deer has told all her friends. Last spring she brought her twin babies to show them to me (or me to them). All of the deer come now, many at night. I know this because the fountain is dry when I check in the morning. And most of the lovely buds are gone. I picture the deer lining up at night for the buffet. I have put away the deer spray that is safe for pets. It is also safe for nature. It only makes deer stay away. I can’t do that as mama deer brought her babies to meet me.

This is all of the jotting for today. I hope people will come back to see me. Maybe even some new people. Although I wouldn’t blame anyone for staying away. How awful to not talk (or jot) to friends for so long.

[I keep trying to add some tags but don’t quite know how or remember. That’s how long it’s been. Maybe I’ll figure it out for next time.]

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Retired

Until further notice.

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I Am

Life at Midlife
I am no longer waiting for a special occasion; I burn the best candles on ordinary days.
I am no longer waiting for the house to be clean; I fill it with people who understand that even dust is Sacred.
I am no longer waiting for everyone to understand me; It’s just not their task
I am no longer waiting for the perfect children; my children have their own names that burn as brightly as any star.
I am no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop; It already did, and I survived.
I am no longer waiting for the time to be right; the time is always now.
I am no longer waiting for the mate who will complete me; I am grateful to be so warmly, tenderly held.
I am no longer waiting for a quiet moment; my heart can be stilled whenever it is called.
I am no longer waiting for the world to be at peace; I unclench my grasp and breathe peace in and out.
I am no longer waiting to do something great; being awake to carry my grain of sand is enough.
I am no longer waiting to be recognized; I know that I dance in a holy circle.
I am no longer waiting for Forgiveness.
I believe, I Believe.
Author: Mary Anne Perrone
Image: Ravi Patel
Source:
WildWomanSisterhood.com
Embody your Wild Nature

Posted by The Crystal Goddess Poster based in Canada.

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Happy Birthday (Belated)

Once again it’s time to wish our all time favorite Poet—William Butler Yeats—a very Happy Birth on the days after and week and month he was born. We are so pleased to have him amongst the bipeds of light and love. Although I don’t know what sort of person he was. I’ve heard rumors that he was not the kindest of gentlemen. Not having read a biography of him I don’t know any real, that is truthful, information about his humanity.

WB Yeats, who was born on the 13th of June in 1865 and died in January of 1939, received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923. 

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”

“I have spread my dreams under your feet.
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”

“For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.”

“Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.”

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity”

These lovely quotes from different poems were posted by Dena Bain Taylor along with a photo. It’s nice that the photo is different from the ones we are used to seeing.

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Happy Birthday

Our dear Mr. Erik Satie was born by the sea in the village of Honfleur, France in 1866. I wonder if it was a rainy day like today. I don’t know as nothing that I have tells me. He once said that he was born very young in a very old world. That is true for many of us just as is also the opposite: born very old in a very young world that may even be reversing itself.

He loved to play music and wanted to learn how to play more and better and so he went to school and learned how. But he didn’t like to follow the rules just like many of us don’t like to either. We do like to make up our own rules though. So that’s what our dear Mr. Satie did but as you can imagine not everyone liked his kind of music. It sounds like chanting and eating while you are writing or singing which you are not supposed to do.

Ramón Casas Erik Satie (El bohemio; Poet of Montmartre), 1891 oil on canvas, 198.8 x 99.7 cm (78 1/4 x 39 1/4) Northwestern University Library

Posted by Chopin, Liszt and Friends

Satie lived in Paris and went to the Black Cat, Le Chat Noir, where he liked to be with friends. There was also a cat named Maigriou who liked to be there with the poets and writers and actors and other strange people who came there just to be with other strange people. Places like that are very wonderful and marvelous to be within and there ought to be many more of them so other strange people could go there and be happy.

Satie wrote and played his famous piano pieces there called the Gymnopedies. One of his pieces is called “Three Pieces in the Shape of a Pear” and I like it very much. He liked to give directions in his piano music that went something like this: “From the end of the eyes,” “In the throat,” “On yellowing velvet.” Imagine. This makes it so that his piano works are very fun to play and not like practicing at all.

Satie’s music is very different just like he was. It is sad and happy at the same time just like he was. It is dark and light at the same time so it can be whatever you want it to be when you are playing it. I like that he wrote notes about his life and the things that he saw about him and that when he wrote about his day he put in that he marked out time to think hard and a time to sit and a time for inspiration. He died on the first day in July of cirrhosis of the liver in a hospital as he could not live at home alone anymore. (17 May 1866 – 1 July 1925). He was only 59-years old.

I’m sorry that I have to quit writing about our dear Mr. Satie because I like doing it very much. It is like hanging out at the Le Chat Noir. I wish it were very nearby.