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?
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.
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.]
“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
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…
“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…
My ex-husband died. He died on 10-10-2020. For numerology purposes that’s a 6, one of the perfect numbers. It’s also part of the triad, the 3 numbers about which someone (Tesla? Ramanujan?) said, if we knew the significance of the numbers 3 6 9 we would be paralyzed with astonishment. His heart just stopped, refused to continue its designated purpose within the human body. There’s not a number for that unless you consider the (one) of its kind belonging to the person it inhabits going to a zero.
I have, since then, been trying to understand some things—unsuccessfully. I’ve played a lot of chess games against the computer. One of the first things we did, he and I, after meeting was to play a game of chess. He won.
The songs come back and play round and round. Simon and Garfunkel…”Hello darkness, my old friend…” And Scarborough Fair…”Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Remember me…for (s)he once was a true love of mine.” And he was then, once. A true love of mine.
I’ve had many miserable nightmarish dreams and a lot of unexpected pain. The dreams that are not such as that, the ones that seem filled with significance and symbols and complexity I can only partially decipher. I do get the sense of them, the sense that there is something incredible just out of reach. The most important things go into that place where there are no words.
But the finality of things, the end here on earth, of our consciousness, our ability to share with one another, that life that we shared so long ago, ended then—long ago. Still I go back there. To our children, those beautiful lovely babies that we had, the places, the rivers of our youth. Now there’s no one there to be able to say, “remember when…?”
We shared things unique to ourselves, our lives, our little family. The life we had together. The cottage on the river where we lived in La Crosse, the coffee shop we owned in Iowa City, the community theatre. We have not spoken for a long time, not directly. Our daughter shared between us, the answered questions, “How’s your dad doing?” “How’s your mom?”
But this is it. It’s over. Though it ended a long time ago. Now it’s no longer possible to continue the conversation.
The Sound of Silence.
Good-bye love
Writers Ink—Writing and Stuff 