The Sexes

While I don't know the exact source of this, it made my day.  I hope it makes yours.

Dear Diary...
How men and women record things in their diaries......

Wife's Diary:
Tonight, I thought my husband was acting weird. We had made plans to meet at a nice restaurant for dinner. I was shopping with my friends all day long, so I thought he was upset at the fact that I was a bit late, but he made no comment on it. Conversation wasn't flowing, so I suggested that we go somewhere quiet so we could talk. He agreed, but he didn't say much.

I asked him what was wrong; He said, 'Nothing..' I asked him if it was my fault that he was upset. He said he wasn't upset, that it had nothing to do with me, and not to worry about it. On the way home, I told him that I loved him. He smiled slightly, and kept driving. I can't explain his behavior. I don't know why he didn't say, 'I love you, too.'

When we got home, I felt as if I had lost him completely, as if he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He just sat there quietly, and watched TV. He continued to seem distant and absent. Finally, with silence all around us, I decided to go to bed. About 15 minutes later, he came to bed. But I still felt that he was distracted, and his thoughts were somewhere else. He fell asleep; I cried. I don't know what to do. I'm almost sure that his thoughts are with someone else. My life is a disaster.

Husband's Diary:

A two-foot putt..........who the hell misses a two-foot putt?

Treasures

Walking on the beach at sunset.  Not a soul in sight.  A boat in the distance is taking its fisherman own home. There is a pinkness to the horizon.  It reminds me of the southwest.  Painters embellish the colors so that the browns are not so brown.  They enjoy the indiscriminate subtlety.  I do, too.

Sometimes on my late walks, I find a few treasures.  I collect them from around the world, in the Great Smoky Mountains, on land I love, along the coastline.

Particularly interesting is the seaglass.  Enjoy.  The clear glass compote is a Simon Pearce piece.

Mom

Nineteen and in the Women's Auxiliary Corps (WACs).  Born in 1922 to an English mother and American father, she was one of the hardest working women I have known.  An excellent student, brilliant at Bridge, designer quality seamstress, she went to college in her thirties.  Four years in three as her money was running out.  She had two children, twenty-two months apart.  Always wanted to be a physician.

Educated in geology, oceanography and post graduate work in Physics, she was also my mother and passed eleven years ago. 

Happy 91st birthday, Mom!

I Like My Food To Touch

Sometimes you hear a phrase that makes you stop and think.  It's a phrase that reaches a place within you that resonates.

Sitting at one of my favorite coffee shops, two women were sitting on dark chocolate leather chairs.  Friends for a lifetime.

" I like my food to touch, said the women in the soft mint fleece jacket."

"That's what New Englanders like.  Comfort food."

The female museum director sitting next to her agreed.

"Yea, I know what you mean."

"It's an expression my Marmie always used.  Food has to touch.  Make you feel all warm inside."

New to the area my interest perked.  It must be the cold weather.  Maybe they're all bears here.  Filling up for a long winter before they hibernate.  That is the non-active ones.

I like it all to touch.  Not just the food.  Thoughts, idea, a closeness more dear than words can ever express.  That is what my friends and family mean to me.  It's not just touching minds, it's touching hearts.  

Fields Of Snow

Fields of snow.  As far as the eye can see.  Trackless.  Pristine.  That is what I want to see. 

Seacoasts are not well know for open spaces.  Especially in New England where they are smaller in size.  In the evening, when it is quiet and I am left to my own devices, the silence of the night beckons.  Imagine. 

Imagine fields of snow.  Expanse.  Open.  Cold, crisp, bitter air.  Not a soul nearby.  Nothing to taint the landscape.   I think about this and what it must look like. Without the buildings.  Straight ahead.  I'll find my pasture.  Soon. 

Suffering...It's Optional

Carl Jung said unnecessary suffering comes into the world because people will not accept the 'legitimate suffering' that comes from being human."

 As a young girl of six, about the time this picture above was taken things, were what they were.  Somehow along the way I remember being upset that things weren't as I wanted...hoped they would be. There is a certain amount of suffering that just happens in life. Period.

Some believe life is essentially tragic.  While I do agree there is tragedy in life because we expect...want...things to be other than they are, we resist any kind of pain.  It is in the resistance that we suffer. We want to fix everything, control everything.  Some times things are just the way they are.  

That in no way means we allow inappropriate behavior ~ causing harm to others (political, physical and otherwise) it does mean that suffering is optional. 

 

 

 

Feelin Cozy

It's cold outside.  There is a little southwest in my heart.  But not necessarily by geography, I just love the colors!

Sometimes one just has to let things be.  Live with them a while and see how the color feels.  When I spotted this fabric at Calico Corners, I just knew they would fit my little former sunroom chairs which have now become living room chairs.  And a good time to bring more color into the room.

From the south by the slider on the left.

 Also from the south facing the opposite wall to the right.  The pictures just don't do it justice but you get the picture.

Now if only I could find something to hire the flat screen wires. Those little red pillows on the floor belong to my little buddies, two cocker spaniels.

Four Questions

 

 

In many shamanic societies, if you came to a medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, they would ask one of four questions:

When did you stop dancing?
When did you stop singing?
When did you stop being enchanted by stories?
When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?

~ Gabrielle Roth

— with Heidi Landsberg.

Mindfulness

A more than gloomy day.  Nearly forty degrees.  A friend calls who is doing me a favor in North Carolina.  We have a female talk.  Mostly about relationships. I admire her honesty.

"I don't want to be alone."

I think about this.  I am uncoupled.  Maybe it is a choice.  I sometimes wonder.  It is far better than being in a lousy relationship.  There are lots going around.  And lots of people who are afraid to leave.  They stay and are miserable. 

I'm not feeling especially well today.  There are no complications in my life or health.  I am more than well.  Except for my thoughts.  They stray.  And come back. A cycle.  Or not.

Andy Puddicombe talks about a subject dear to my heart.  Please listen:

http://www.ted.com/talks/andy_puddicombe_all_it_takes_is_10_mindful_minutes.html

Consciousness Rising

Compelled to write isn't easy.  We write because we have to.  So many feelings, thoughts, angsts, joys.  Somehow putting them on paper eases the way.  At least it does for me.  It validates my experience.

When I write, I know I have to soften it at times.  If you see some angst on here, know I will lighten it soon.  I hope I have done that for you.

Reading another blog which I enjoy lately has been about the atrocities on women worldwide. I nearly said 'systematic atrocities' because that is what they are.  This blogger grows tired with social networking and goes there less and less.  Most of what I read is just blah blah blah.  The comings and goings of the day.  It doesn't raise the human condition.  At times, it is interesting.  If there is nothing else to do.  I don't care if people know what I am doing.  I know what I am doing.  That is more than enough.  I only answer to myself.  Money has never been any motivator.  Doing things for the highest good has been.

I've always live within myself.  It's easier that way.  I can feel the consciousness rising amidst the hum drum of this life.  I feel it in the quiet, the solitude.  I am doing more of that.  Drama has no place in the people we are becoming.  Quiet does. 

Happy weekend.

Whadda Mind!

Amit Goswami, Ph. D. is a retired professor from the theoretical physics department of the University of Oregon in Eugene, where he had served since 1968. He is a pioneer of the new paradigm of science called “science within consciousness”.
Goswami is the author of the highly successful textbook Quantum Mechanics that is used in Universities throughout the world. His two volume textbook for nonscientists, The Physicist’s View of Nature traces the decline and rediscovery of the concept of God within science.
Goswami has also written many popular books based on his research on quantum physics and consciousness. In his seminal book, The Self-Aware Universe, he solved the quantum measurement problem elucidating the famous observer effect while paving the path to a new paradigm of science based on the primacy of consciousness.
Subsequently, in The Visionary Window, Goswami demonstrated how science and spirituality could be integrated. In Physics of the Soul he developed a theory of survival after death and reincarnation. His book Quantum Creativity is a tour de force instruction about how to engage in both outer and inner creativity. The Quantum Doctor integrates conventional and alternative medicine.
In his latest book, God is Not Dead we explore what quantum physics tell us about our origins and how we should live.
In his private life, Goswami is a practitioner of spirituality and transformation. He calls himself a quantum activist. He appeared in the film“What the Bleep Do We Know“, “The Dalai Lama Renaissance“, and the award winning documentary “The Quantum Activist“.

http://www.amitgoswami.org/pbs/

A Good 2013

All set to marguerita in my humble abode last night, I was more than ready.  A lasagna dinner had been completed and even a small glass of wine.  The abode had been vacuumed and rearranged a bit.  Yes, I still do that but to a lesser extent now.  Admiring a swatch for the new wicker chair cushions due to arrive in the next month there was a knock at my door.

The peephole didn't realize anything but a female face.  I opened the door and to my delightful surprise, a new young friend stopped by.

"Why aren't you downstairs in the Community Room?  Everyone is there."

"Oh, I thought maybe it was a private party."

"No way, there are twenty plus people, get yourself down there, girl."

We chatted for twenty minutes and I followed her downstairs.  Everyone...every one asked me where I had been.  People came up and asked me what I wanted to eat or drink.  Even sat down by me.  Before long, everyone got into the conversation.  It was more than cute. They were concerned.  I liked that. 

Then a few people mentioned my license plate and registration had expired on my automobile. Can I say I was more than shocked?  The people who registered by car told me otherwise since  I had re  Just when I thought I had finished transferring all the legal schmegal stuff this month.  They told me because I renewed within three months of  birthday month when these would to expire, these items would be good for fifteen months.  It did seem odd. I inquired in person and on the phone no less than three times to ensure the clerk was correct.  But states vary so I took her at her word.

My new friend will drive me to the town hall early tomorrow morning.  It's going to be a good 2013.  I already feel it.