On this shining morning Yogananda speaks of "the opal pool of iridescent joy Where my Father distributes... liquid peace." Hickman spoke of "the geometry of love" and quoted Van Gogh. "The best way to know God is to love many things." From Issa we hear, "In this world/ we walk on the roof of hell,/ gazing at flowers."
When I read the words of "Lines from a Mined Mind" I heard John Trudell speaking, "Fighting for peace see how they die." My own voice became deep and graveled in my throat. I felt my arms slip into his black coat and I shrugged my shoulders toward a more comfortable fit. Louise Erdrich called John someone "who has dropped the postures of ego and destroyed the social filters that keep us at a safe distance." On the second day of our unprovoked undeclared war of aggression against the unarmed citizens of Iraq I began to cut and sew. Soon I had created a small wall hanging entitled "Bombs over Baghdad". On the back was a field of roses drenched in blood. It was also a reflection of John's poem found on page 72 of his book.
In Jan 1872 Louisa Mae Alcott was inundated with mysterious bouquets. "Day after day the lovely great nose gays were handed in by the servant of the unknown." Oh, flowers in January are a rare and wondrous gift! Even now after years of Bush's unjustified war for oil and the death of so many, we love what is lovely. We can't help it, we just do. It's a hunger in the soul.
Mae Sarton had undone the Christmas tree yesterday with friend Edythe and today the library seemed suddenly desolate. She was too sick to work but wrote in her journal. "Every new book is like a pilgrimage, a long long walk where faith in the eventual destination has to be renewed again and again." These good words encourage me, too.
Today, before 10 AM, I have been in the company of Paramahansa Yogananda, Issa, Martha Hickman, John Trudell, Vincent Van Gogh, Louise Erdrich, Louisa Mae Alcott, Mae Sarton and last but not least, Mary Oliver who said, "Whenever I get home - whenever - somebody loves me there." All this splendid fellowship over a cup of tea and me still in my robe and pajamas!
When I read the words of "Lines from a Mined Mind" I heard John Trudell speaking, "Fighting for peace see how they die." My own voice became deep and graveled in my throat. I felt my arms slip into his black coat and I shrugged my shoulders toward a more comfortable fit. Louise Erdrich called John someone "who has dropped the postures of ego and destroyed the social filters that keep us at a safe distance." On the second day of our unprovoked undeclared war of aggression against the unarmed citizens of Iraq I began to cut and sew. Soon I had created a small wall hanging entitled "Bombs over Baghdad". On the back was a field of roses drenched in blood. It was also a reflection of John's poem found on page 72 of his book.
In Jan 1872 Louisa Mae Alcott was inundated with mysterious bouquets. "Day after day the lovely great nose gays were handed in by the servant of the unknown." Oh, flowers in January are a rare and wondrous gift! Even now after years of Bush's unjustified war for oil and the death of so many, we love what is lovely. We can't help it, we just do. It's a hunger in the soul.
Mae Sarton had undone the Christmas tree yesterday with friend Edythe and today the library seemed suddenly desolate. She was too sick to work but wrote in her journal. "Every new book is like a pilgrimage, a long long walk where faith in the eventual destination has to be renewed again and again." These good words encourage me, too.
Today, before 10 AM, I have been in the company of Paramahansa Yogananda, Issa, Martha Hickman, John Trudell, Vincent Van Gogh, Louise Erdrich, Louisa Mae Alcott, Mae Sarton and last but not least, Mary Oliver who said, "Whenever I get home - whenever - somebody loves me there." All this splendid fellowship over a cup of tea and me still in my robe and pajamas!
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