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Mind Benders. . . .

I consider it fun doing research and often I come upon something that deserves more thought.  With the quote comes more research about what the author meant.  I call them mind benders.  It is about discovering what meaning it has given to my life.  The following are simple but a storehouse of depth within. 

Mind Benders. . .

A house needs a Grandma in it.                      Louisa May Alcott

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That which is not good for the beehive cannot be good for the bees.
                                                                    Marcus Aurelius  C161AD

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The battle for conservation is part of the eternal conflict between right and wrong.                                                                                                                            John Muir

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Sometimes I wonder whether the world is being run by smart people who are putting us on or imbeciles who really mean it.                                                                                                                           Mark Twain

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The intellect of the wise is like glass; it admits the light of heaven and reflects it.          Augustus Hare

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To believe what is true for you is true for all men.                                                           Ralph Waldo Emerson

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We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark;  the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the Light.                                                                                                                                               Plato

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You become what you feed your mind.                                                                           Veronica Hallissey

 

photo of Northern Michigan
by Joe Hallissey Sr.

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A Convocation of Saints . . .

 

Not Fun and Games. . .but in communion . .

My eldest in a conversation at one time spoke of the torture of those given knowledge in the inner journey.  He said there was no one with whom to share what has been given so they drag in nobility aspects of it.  He was a young man then and he was right.

The need for physical arms around one is not lessened in the light of cosmic awareness.  If anything it points up painfully how few there are who share or can share in this journey.  It points up even how very few there are who know of what we speak.

The desire to clasp hands across the table with a like mind is so intense that the desire is quickly dismissed with uttered arguments.  Yet they are just moments.

One learns to walk in communion with invisible friends and these times do make the empty house full.  I walked through those rooms with warm woods and the empty house was full.  The voices of long ago loves occasionally break through and ears ache from pressures of invisible friends.  There is a convocation of saints and the company of good minds still present.

I can throw back my head and laugh at a thought co-mingling with mind and know the presence of a kindred spirit.  You have too and to the questioning glances of those standing by explain. . . ‘a thought just struck me funny’ . . .and wish they were such good friends with themselves to be able to laugh out loud.

I can weep with unstoppable tears at ancient anguish hidden within centuries of genetic history.  I am given love and have the capacity to love the Spirit within me and to love the Spirit and struggle of the Other.  I am pieced and peace-d.

And in the company of those who love, I rest.  It is a way station.  The journey is unending.

The Welcome. . .

Come, we walk.  Take my hand.
Lean on me for a time to gain
a respite for a work unending.

I stand by you, ready
to catch you if you fall.
My arms are steady and ready.

I will not stumble, so do not be afraid.
It has been a hard journey
and you tire.

I’ve stood the watch and marveled
at your tenacity, your perseverance.
Though you faltered, you stood upright

without hesitation.  Now breathe easy
for a job well done.  No one
could have done it better.

Welcome to the winner’s circle.
It was worth the run. . . .don’t you think?

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There Is A Balance. . . lest we forget. . . .

 

Too late we learn life holds the sharpest knife.  Cutting the loaf accordingly and with compassion passes the butter.

Retribution for whatever deeds is a commonplace happening but there will always be those who think that the die is not cast by them.  They are and always have been.  That the intricasies of complex living seem too diverse and too extraordinary coats the attitude that all is coincidence.

But it is not.  For every action there is an inaction and a reaction.  Which are one and the same.  An inaction is a decided action in zeroes.  From this there will always be the decided game of chance being played and the players somehow think they will escape the consequences.

But in time, their time, there is a reactive legislation which prevails.  And no thing goes forgotten.  It is written in the wind, so to speak.  And Nature will have her day.  Always.  Life will have its totality, always.

What is sown is also reaped.  People understand this only in the most banal terms.  But all these precepts are ideas of long standing and have come to their own fruition.  Listen well.

Cliché’s are true and have a substance leaking energies which do not dissipate until satisfied.  There is a balance to all of life.  Lest we forget.

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She Went To The Wedding. . . .

                                                         Emma E. with her Grandfather Hallissey

So She Went To The Wedding. . .

It was an evening affair.  Black and white attire requested if possible and Emma E. complied.  With a flower in her hair.  It was a union of hearts and arms resting about each other all evening.   An uncle was married to a winsome woman and everyone was happy.

Especially the youngest member of the small invited gathering who was never out of sight or hearing.
She even had ear mufflers, sound protectors, in pink to muffle the noise and music at occasions now that are magnified.  I could not attend but I have some wonderful photos taken that have me smiling at how life proceeds amidst changes and fortunately some things virtually unchanged.

Emma E. is almost 10 months old and we are grateful with the wondrous care she receives because as all life should be called, a miracle.  Born at 1 pound 12 ounces,  she has blossomed into a growing, outgoing and curious baby.  Her checkups are wonders in themselves.  Soon she will be walking out the door.  Pray that her guardian angels are alert and not sleeping.  She will try to outsmart them, I’m sure.  And she will.

                                                                       Last week’s photo

 

photo of Emma E. with grandfather
taken by granduncle, John S. Hallissey

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Forever Is Happening Now. . .

The miracle of life is that though we all hold different perspectives on everything,  each of us, beast or human,  we seem to hold an anchoring desire which is survival.  And that desire somehow is enough to keep us afloat for however long. 

When we fail, we all fail and go down the tube together.  And pick ourselves up and begin again.

The differing perspective is matched every once in awhile by another in part or whole and when it happens is met with a startled ‘we know each other don’t we’?  thought. 

The heavens do not look kindly on such alliances because little work would get done when relief comes with much fun.   Which is why isolation is often the state of the differing souls and loneliness the condition. 

Once recognized as a chosen state,  life becomes a dedicated ceremony.  And the celebration often at the end becomes the enlightenment knowing the party just begins. 

 

Forever is Happening Now. . . 

Was it a thousand years ago
or just yesterday when you stood
at my front door as a guest for dinner?

My eyes caught your
brown wing tipped shoes that
I recognized from another time.

I followed the path to your face
and there was an electric moment of recognition.
I wanted to say I know you, don’t I?

Followed of course would be to say
good to see you again, yet knowing
we were new to each other.

It was another time in a place
of no name now but it was a time
locked in forever.  I knew then as I do now

that time is a happening for this place
with the Earth names we’ve memorized for ourselves.
But it is a happening still

as all things are all the time.  We do not escape
who we are.  A quantum leap into the present
is our stance for this moment

but forever it is all happening now.

 

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How Long Before All Worlds Will Be Safe . . . ?

Sometimes I run previous posts to acquaint my new readers with earlier work to show where it is I come from.  This is one of those times I need to remember for me.   A gift given and life was renewed and I am grateful.  There is always hope with a writer that words written will somehow be what is needed by a someone at the moment.  The following was for me today.

May I ask you a question?   He was sitting at the window and looking out as if he could will the sun to come out so he could play outdoors.   Why you ask?   Because I want you to know that if you don’t want to answer,  you can say no to me.   But you always answer my question and never say no,  he said.   I woun’t say no to you,  he said.   I maybe not know the answer but I woun’t say no.   I tried to frame my question simply.

I wonder, I said, if you can remember what it was like before you came here to live.   I waited.   He continued looking at me and I thought past me and then asked,  which time before?   I drew breath and then said the one you remember best.   And he smiled at me and said the one where we were together before?   Where was that I asked.   He said, you know,  you know.   That’s why I choosed you this time.   We were bestest friends and I knowed how much you could help because we were bestest friends.

Where was that I asked again.   He said in that cold place where we had to hold hands so our fingers could be warm.   Who was there with us I asked and he searched my face.   He was reading me I thought and then wondered why.  He said it was a hard time and this time would be better.   Why was it a hard time I asked and he said because our bodies were broked and sick.   This time he said we are not broke so we can go outside and play.   We were too old and broked last time and the cold hurt when we breathhhhddd.   How do you remember that I asked and why do you remember.

Because here I can breathhhedddd and it don’ hurt.   My throat burn in that place when things ‘ploded  ’cause they fighted all the time.  You ‘member he said, you ‘member.   And he became silent and his eyes clouded.   And he said,  we say to each other,  never  ‘gain,   never  ‘gain.  I pulled him to me and hugged him and said never again.   We will try to stay where it doesn’t hurt to breathe.   And I wished I could promise there would always be a place where it didn’t hurt to breathe,  but I could not make that promise.   For this time only,  I could hug him and keep him where the air did not burn his throat.  But how long before all places would be safe?

Until life in all forms vowed not to inflict such terror in worlds where to draw breath just to live would hurt,  we would continue to work.  That is a promise.

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Say This I Can Do. . .and hold in your hand. . . .

 

I want to show you the final results of the blue material I made on post previously.  This I completed and wanted you to see what you can do just for fun.  It is a creative endeavor and limited only by the boundaries you set.  And I hope they will be few.

The next two are embroidered with the sewing machine either zigzag or straight needle.  Or if you are at ease with free motion,  give it a try with something you can draw on material.  You limit only yourself.  Try all things, houses, barns, trees or figures in one color and then bind them onto flannel for a child’s nap time blanket.  There may be no nap.                               .

The next example are five inch squares with a central inch white strip going diagonally .  Or a wider strip.  Glue it down with a glue stick so it won’t shift.  But first cut your five inch squares from an old soft sheet or new flannel sheets to mount pieces of fabric too small or unshapely for much else.  I prefer these strips to piecing because I think piecing requires larger pieces with much waste.  I prefer to use smaller pieces with strips having little waste.  You can place the squares to suit your fancy with straight lines or parallel ones or whichever pleases.  You are limited only by yourself.

The last one are the inch squares you feel you must use .  Take web bonding and using an inch ruler and make an inch grid covering the sheet.  Lay the rows as you choose and with the wrong side of fabric on the grid press to bond.  When cool peel away from backing and on wrong side crease and stitch along the length and width 1/8 inch.  You will end up with perfectly matched squares.  Wonderful way to use scraps and I honor the genius who thought this up.

 

 

These are things you can do with materials on hand or friends eager to lessen their stash.  Old sweats can be cut up as batting to give stability.  Try your hand at drawing on materials with simple pieces.  Use coloring books as source materials.  Attach things with glue sticks before stitching.  Do not be shy with your talents.  Do and you will be shown how.  Have fun with making something substantial you can hold in your hand.  There is satisfaction in saying to yourself,  this I can do.  And do it again.

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A Peace of Mind. . . .

It is not the mystery of  life which stunts man and does not beguile  him to further thought.  It is the work involved.

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It is not easy for Wendy to become Tinkerbell in one fell swoop.  Not without destroying Peter Pan in that fell swoop.

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Statistics are meant to sell beer and not to legislate the human spirit.

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What seems like a tragedy in the absurd and obscure indeed is a well thought out and prescribed drama.

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It is the lighted candle that sparks the heavens.

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Live and become that dream where you make a difference in a world that makes no difference.

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Bless the good day and blow the winds of fear as far from the ends of the Earth.  The alternative is more of the same in a place where progress is not so swift.

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Wait not for death.  Be vigilant only of life in all its forms, in its entirety.  Embrace it all.

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One cannot break a will which heralds its own functioning and its own existence.

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When nothing is taken from our leisure  to add to our proportion,  it is debauchery and decadence.  We have license to steal from ourselves the only thing we have at the moment and that is time.

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The hardest commandment to fulfil is the one to love one’s neighbor because it presumes one’s love for oneself.

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It is sometimes necessary to be abrupt or we lose our 30 second audience.  We know the perilous times.

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You have carved a piece out of the night sky and you stand alone on the jetty in the universal sea.  Who will you ask to dance on the ceiling?  I would be honored if you ask me.

 

artwork by Claudia Hallissey

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To Feed My Spirit. . . .

Lately I find myself not equal to the day’s events.   And considering how close the century mark hovers,  it is not unusual.  But I cannot remember with this body how I rose to the occasions when events played havoc with my heart.  So I take myself to the work table and create something from scratch.  Normally it is to the kitchen but no thing seems palatable.  So I am going to create from bits ready for trash, something still usable to feed my spirit.

Place a silicone sheet  or a large piece of parchment on the ironing surface.   Put a light 8×10 inch fusible web piece on it and  then take scraps of fabric of a chosen color and cover the web.  Place the colored pieces in whatever design you choose and  then with a hot iron over another piece of silicone or parchment, press.  Once fused the top sheet of silicone will lift off and the piece of now fusible colored bits will lift off the bottom silicone in one piece.

I free motion quilt over the fused fabric to make certain it holds together if not used right away. I don’t want movement in the fabric drawer loosening pieces of it.   I use the fabric for wall quilts or small things.  They make good mug mats or quilt squares.

I am still of the mind set that hands should not be idle.  And every day is an adjustment as aging or illness takes what once were skills and of no thought.  Even the threading of a needle becomes a major task when eyesight is not sharp or fingers become numb.

My knowledge has been such that whatever is fed into the mind is what will determine what world we inherit or how we are used when we transit.  Everything teaches and it is up to me to feed that addiction I have for learning.  These are what rust and moth do not destroy.  These are the only gifts we take with us.

So today I share this with you.  If the pieces are too small to handle with comfort, iron them onto fusible web and create a larger piece that gives rise to a something that has a wonderful outcome.  You are limited only by boundaries you erect.

 

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Around The Bend. . .

 

Today I sit in the midst of my birthday of 87 years.  It is quiet.  In rereading journals where I was told if you want a good book to read,  write it,  I am finding truth. Rarely do I remember if it was cereal for breakfast and therefore rereading the saga I wonder what comes next .

The Teacher asked in a September 2013 entry . . .you saw an event and caught it in flight and reacted and saw the lesson in the event.  Tell us how you do that. . .

Because I felt sorry for myself that day this was the answer. . . .(My spontaneity as a child was shanghaied because I was born seeing the thought and it was then engulfed in the larger picture with its application within life and lives and results following.

The consequences then run through but the spontaneity is gone and the moment lost.  The result, the lesson, the appreciation is deeper and the entire action is molded into a lesson and humanity benefits, instead of just the impulse of the person.

You have in me no game player therefore someone they say who spoils the fun and doesn’t know how to play.   Not invited to go along because I spoil the fun.)

Within the brackets above was from the entry.  I add, I think life is beautiful as is and needs no embellishment; the storyteller really needs the exaggeration. Games are often played to show superiority, king of the mountain syndrome.

Compensation is at play giving me ‘language sparring’ for diversion.  Great fun and like the poem following,  a surprise and a lark.  The response to Around The Bend was great so I run it again.  Aww shucks.   It seems I’ve run out of cola.

Around The Bend. . .

I was told you have stretched
your boundaries
as far as you can and the rest
will require another world.

You work too hard at this, he said.
Break the pattern because
you do not need more information
to underscore what you already know.

What good to understand worm holes,
and black holes and white holes
and time warps.
You work with them every night
when you flutter in and out
of worlds and know your way around
the bends of light.
You don’t need anything more.

You need a good stiff drink
of more than cola.
Love, take a bender.
You need rye, straight.

I say,  around the bend
there will be a hand,
someone to pull me up. . . .

around the bend will be a someone
to pull me up. . . .I know.

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