This

What it is like until the other dies. And why it is more than final when gone. And why longing has new meaning, a new edge. Another part of self erased.


“I know now, after fifty years, that the finding/losing, forgetting/remembering, leaving/returning, never stops. The whole of life is about another chance, and while we are alive, till the very end, there is always another chance.”
Jeanette Winterson – Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

Posted by Ravenous Butterflies

Richard Bergh – Nordic Summer Evening, 1899-1900

This Election

So tired. So very tired. I can barely move. I went to bed last night very late but no matter. I’m sick of what this country has come to. What will happen to our earth? Our animals? Our leavings on this planet?

“There is an eerie sense of Panic in the air, a silent Fear and Uncertainty that comes with once-reliable faiths and truths and solid Institutions that are no longer safe to believe in. . . . There is a Presidential Election, right on schedule, but somehow there is no President” Hunter Thompson

posted by Poetic Outlaws

I read a post by someone who said “I guess the words we speak, the truth, means something unless you are a Democrat.” This when the one-who-was-elected has lied at every public speech. I no longer understand anything.

Go in peace, go in love.

The Thin Time

In the chilly season, when the air grows cold and the spiders die, comes a thin time. The days are short, so all the light of them is concentrated, squeezed between the dawn and dark. This is why the light is different, and each thing has a Shadow. This is when the other worlds draw close, and the barriers between grow thin. In a thin time, they say, you must be careful, because you might walk through a cobweb unthinking, and find yourself Elsewhere. There is more than one other world; no one knows how many. Some beasts can see one; the dogs will sometimes stare at a blank space on the wall of a cave, and their hackles rise at what they see. Sometimes, I think I see it, too. [From Master Raymond’s book. Copyright 2020 Diana Gabaldon.]

Diana Gabaldon post

Hello November

“November comes
And November goes,
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.

With night coming early,
And dawn coming late,
And ice in the bucket
And frost by the gate.

The fires burn
And the kettles sing,
And earth sinks to rest
Until next spring.”
― Clyde Watson

Posted by Spirit of Old

And, IT’S FOOTBALL FOR REAL!

Go Green Bay! Go Pack! Get Ready to Rumble!

It’s football weather: Sun, snow, sleet, rain, and Wind, wind, wind…

More on Music & Math and Incidentally on God

“Music is a system of harmonic relationships inherent within the quantized fractal structure of the cosmos.” ~ Marshall Lefferts

Posted by Nassim Haramein

Someone else said that the Universe was, at the center, a chord that was the sound of God. And that’s what makes everything run, orbit, spin, hum, and sing out with Life. A famous conductor said those basic words more or less. That is also more or less the same thing as said by Lefferts.

Of course that means Death also, as there is no Life without Death. (Being made to occur from a chord somewhere in the center of the Universe or Cosmos.) I always wonder things from that point such as, what is the cord? Is it a C cord? That’s what immediately jumps to mind. But then that’s nothing mysterious and shouldn’t it be mysterious? Is it the secret cord that David played before the Lord according to Leonard Cohen? And what happens if The Chord goes silent? Yes, the End, naturally, but how? A major massive explosion? A complete disappearance? An Absolute Nothing? And does something ever occur if there is no one to bear witness? If there is no one to see or note that something once was, was it ever so?

If I had the head for it I’d attend the course: Explore the universe of frequency, vibration and resonance in the free Unified Science Course in the Resonance Academy at ResonanceScience.org. But I’m afraid it would be much beyond my capabilities. Although I do adore fractals.

Wait…wait…does the Chord ever change? As much as it causes, is it affected by? Does its color or tone change with major events? I see my mind as a child hopping about on one foot to another, unable to stay still for learning. I’d like to have a few words with this Secret Chord!

Oh what dreams shall I dream tonight…