It is a happy talent to know how to play.
Emerson
******************
Hello Sue
*******************
Any one who travels around the country is no doubt familiar with the literature written on the walls of the nation's rest rooms. I don't frequent women's rooms so I don't know what sort of wisdom is inscribed there. But in the men's rooms of the land one can find some very interesting journalism.
Some of it is strange. "What's hot and swims?" can be found on a wall in a lower Manhattan bar. Some of it, alas, is downright stupid. I think I might start kicking walls if I have to read one more time "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy." Too many immature men erroneously think that remark is clever. (And some of them don't know how to spell "lobotomy.")
In northern New Hampshire where I used to live Winter means skiing season. There are a slew of mountains around there, most of them with ski slopes. The local people begin skiing when they are a few inches tall so it's a regular sport for them in snow season. But they usually do it during the week, because the weekends are taken up by the tourists, the flat landers, the ski clubbers, the second homers, and the time sharers. Hundreds of them make arrangements and reservations to come up and ski and when they get there they expect to see snow.
But there are some winters when the snow is late in coming and it's a matter of great disappointment to those who spent the time and money to get there. It's like going to your favorite amusement park and finding that all the roller coasters are closed.
The frustration of the out-of-towners spills over in many directions, some of them not so nice. But mostly they will just sit, drink and tell skiing stories or find other more private activites. And sometimes they write their frustrations on the men's room walls in carelessly worded prose.
At one particular cocktail lounge where a few friends of mine and I used to meet for a couple of drinks in the early evening, before the crowds arrived, I read on the men's room wall the following short but blunt remark, "THERE'S NO SNOW !" as if to announce to the unobservant or mentally deficient the important facts of life and weather in the north country.
Several days later when we were again visiting our drinking place, I noted that someone had written underneath that important statement, "Olaf knows why there is no snow." Ah Ha. The plot thickens. Who is this Olaf character and what does he know about it?
Sure enough, a week later, some curious intellectual, caught up in the tension of the drama, had written "Why, Olaf, is there no snow?" Breathlessly we waited to read what our resident meteorologist and ski slope authority, Olaf, had to offer by way of explanation to satisfy the curious and soothe the frustrations of the bereft. But, woe to the skiers, Olaf wasn't talking. His lips were closed. He kept his cards close to his chest. Mum was the word.
The following winter the walls of that men's room had been painted and the gripping story of Olaf and the missing snow was gone without a trace. BUT.
When I went in there (to do something that one does in a men's room) I saw written on the wall the following plaintive inscription "Where's the snow?" I couldn't resist the need to try to explain things, so underneath that I wrote "Where is Olaf when you need him?"
A week went by and then came another visit to the bar with my friends. When I went to the men's room, a condition brought on by the vigorous and fun filled consumption of beer, there was the answer. The end of the story, the final chapter, the curtain on the drama, was spelled out in definitive terms for all to see, read and ponder. "Olaf, moved to North Carolina."
In North Carolina they make snow.
Adieu Olaf, and good luck to you.
DB - The Vagabond Journey
Never give up.
**************************
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The new year is upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I think people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, the New Year. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
Vagabondism 244
Vagabondism #244 "It is too easy to be tempted into a state of thoughtlessness."
http://vagabondjottings.blogspot.com/
http://vagabondjottings.blogspot.com/
Worthy
A Vagabond's Song
I was baptized by New York City sleet and tempered in New England snow.
I walked among the ancient rocks and pondered nature's hieroglyphs.
I watched the silver snake ford the brook.
I fought. My spear was inscribed with sacred runes.
I gather knowledge from books and birds and children at play.
I respect the mystic myths.
I know when there's love and when there isn't.
I can hear the echoes of my struggling ancestors.
Those who saw me sit and stare and said I was a worthless dreamer are gone.
I survived the silent sirens.
Now I sit and stare and while I sit I think, I imagine, I write, I design, I survive because I can.
There is inexpressible music in my head, poetry in my heart and a sense of humor in my pocket.
I am a child of the universe. ,
I am not worthless.
DB
************************
I was baptized by New York City sleet and tempered in New England snow.
I walked among the ancient rocks and pondered nature's hieroglyphs.
I watched the silver snake ford the brook.
I fought. My spear was inscribed with sacred runes.
I gather knowledge from books and birds and children at play.
I respect the mystic myths.
I know when there's love and when there isn't.
I can hear the echoes of my struggling ancestors.
Those who saw me sit and stare and said I was a worthless dreamer are gone.
I survived the silent sirens.
Now I sit and stare and while I sit I think, I imagine, I write, I design, I survive because I can.
There is inexpressible music in my head, poetry in my heart and a sense of humor in my pocket.
I am a child of the universe. ,
I am not worthless.
DB
************************
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Vagabondism 243
Vagabondism #243 "Things which must be said, must be said." http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/
Ideas
A great idea can't be expressed too often or in too many ways.
Dana Bate
**********************
Hello Ken
**********************
It's a question of approach and acceptance. We are all individuals and therefore different from each other in spite of our similarities. Babies are born not knowing everything, although I claim they probably know more than we imagine they do, they are after all thinking creatures. As time goes by they accumulate knowledge and ways to articulate what they see, feel and think. Some sort of language is developed. At last the spoken language becomes writing and other forms of communication.
Along with other developments of a human being come preferences, ways that define our character and impulses that move us in the directions of our lives.
The great ideas of the world exist in many forms but all of them are not ideas themselves but the trail markers along the pathways. Great writers reach into the bottomless well of words to describe what lives in their minds in it's purest form. One may not learn from the written word to seek the true ideas behind them. That is a matter of preference.
A painter has in his hand a brush with which he can stroke the formless truth of things and point the way to its understanding. My favorite painting is "The Piano Lesson" by Matisse. One person may look at it and see the triangles and curls. another will see the tensions of life when the conflict of need, desire and fulfillment cross each other.
Music is another, and perhaps the greatest, communicator of ideas. The poetry that accompanies the melody of a song or the grand interlocking levels of an orchestra will bring a listener on to the trail that the music is pointing toward, the trail that leads to where the music leaves off and the lush forest of pure thought is found.
How we approach literature and works of art determines how close we get to understanding the great ideas that foster them. But it is also important to know that the ideas are there seemingly hidden behind the words. Knowing that means that someday at some time the idea will open up itself and the illumination of one's thinking will happen.
It is important, therefore, to make the right choices. Suppose you go out to buy a chair, You go to the furniture store and look over all the chairs. You sit in a few. The chairs all perform the same function, but one is the right one for your room. One of them provides the looks and the comfort you want. You take it home and it becomes a part of your life.
Suppose you decide to buy a work of art, a painting let's say. You will exercise the same or more care in making a choice about that. That painting will probably be with you the rest of your life, speaking to you every day, leading you to where the trail begins.
Then let's say you go to buy a Beethoven symphony. Now it's not only the music itself but the degree of enlightenment of the conductor and the members of the orchestra who perform the music that determines how much and how true the experience is to the ideas of the genius who was on the trail to them.
It is the nature of Truth to reveal itself. Being aware and observing the world around us in all of its articulations surprises happen and treasures are revealed. And when they open up a door or light up a trail marker the voyage to a better understanding of ourselves as individuals continues and the destination becomes closer.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
*******************************
Look here. I am about to close down this invitation if I get no more offerings.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year is upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I think people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Dana Bate
**********************
Hello Ken
**********************
It's a question of approach and acceptance. We are all individuals and therefore different from each other in spite of our similarities. Babies are born not knowing everything, although I claim they probably know more than we imagine they do, they are after all thinking creatures. As time goes by they accumulate knowledge and ways to articulate what they see, feel and think. Some sort of language is developed. At last the spoken language becomes writing and other forms of communication.
Along with other developments of a human being come preferences, ways that define our character and impulses that move us in the directions of our lives.
The great ideas of the world exist in many forms but all of them are not ideas themselves but the trail markers along the pathways. Great writers reach into the bottomless well of words to describe what lives in their minds in it's purest form. One may not learn from the written word to seek the true ideas behind them. That is a matter of preference.
A painter has in his hand a brush with which he can stroke the formless truth of things and point the way to its understanding. My favorite painting is "The Piano Lesson" by Matisse. One person may look at it and see the triangles and curls. another will see the tensions of life when the conflict of need, desire and fulfillment cross each other.
Music is another, and perhaps the greatest, communicator of ideas. The poetry that accompanies the melody of a song or the grand interlocking levels of an orchestra will bring a listener on to the trail that the music is pointing toward, the trail that leads to where the music leaves off and the lush forest of pure thought is found.
How we approach literature and works of art determines how close we get to understanding the great ideas that foster them. But it is also important to know that the ideas are there seemingly hidden behind the words. Knowing that means that someday at some time the idea will open up itself and the illumination of one's thinking will happen.
It is important, therefore, to make the right choices. Suppose you go out to buy a chair, You go to the furniture store and look over all the chairs. You sit in a few. The chairs all perform the same function, but one is the right one for your room. One of them provides the looks and the comfort you want. You take it home and it becomes a part of your life.
Suppose you decide to buy a work of art, a painting let's say. You will exercise the same or more care in making a choice about that. That painting will probably be with you the rest of your life, speaking to you every day, leading you to where the trail begins.
Then let's say you go to buy a Beethoven symphony. Now it's not only the music itself but the degree of enlightenment of the conductor and the members of the orchestra who perform the music that determines how much and how true the experience is to the ideas of the genius who was on the trail to them.
It is the nature of Truth to reveal itself. Being aware and observing the world around us in all of its articulations surprises happen and treasures are revealed. And when they open up a door or light up a trail marker the voyage to a better understanding of ourselves as individuals continues and the destination becomes closer.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
*******************************
Look here. I am about to close down this invitation if I get no more offerings.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year is upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I think people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Vagabondism 242
Vagabondism #242 "It is very hard to maintain enthusiasm in the dark and dismal days of debt and depression, but that is what we must find a way to do."
http://vagabondjottings.blogspot.com/
http://vagabondjottings.blogspot.com/
What's in a name?
One must keep ever present a sense of humor.
Katherine Mansfield
**********************
Hello Ernie
**********************
I am amused to find that most of the Republicans who are running for their party's nomination have one syllable names: Mitt, Newt, Rick, Ron. I'm sure it makes good political sense these days to try to present yourself as a real person, a regular guy, an All American Boy or Girl. So why not have a regular guy nick name?
Except for Ben Franklin and Abe Lincoln it seems to be a modern day phenomenon. But think about it. Would our sense of history be different if our Founding Fathers had regular guy names. After George we had Jack Adams. Tom Jefferson, Jimmy Madison, Andy Jackson, Marty Van Buren ("Van").
Later we had Frank Pierce, Zack Taylor, Milli Filmore (does that work for you?), Ulie Grant and the Harrison boys, Bill and Ben, Billie Taft and Woody Wilson. All regular guys.
I don't know what to do with Rutherford, Chester and Grover, but moving toward and into the last century we got to enjoy the Roosevelts, Teddy and Frankie, Cal ("Cool") Coolidge and Herb Hoover. All American Boys everyone.
With the 20th Century things loosened up quite a bit with Harry Truman and Jimmy Carter. But why not Ronnie Reagan and Georgie Bush?
Now we hear Barry Obama, but not very often. And it seems clear that if you want to run for President in the Republican party you have to have a one syllable name. Well that counts me out. Anyone out there named Rip, Rock, Rap or Rump interested in the job?
Dana - The Vagabond
Never give up.
*************************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. If I don't get some more Guest Authors by January 1st, I'm going to close down this invitation. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from you? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Katherine Mansfield
**********************
Hello Ernie
**********************
I am amused to find that most of the Republicans who are running for their party's nomination have one syllable names: Mitt, Newt, Rick, Ron. I'm sure it makes good political sense these days to try to present yourself as a real person, a regular guy, an All American Boy or Girl. So why not have a regular guy nick name?
Except for Ben Franklin and Abe Lincoln it seems to be a modern day phenomenon. But think about it. Would our sense of history be different if our Founding Fathers had regular guy names. After George we had Jack Adams. Tom Jefferson, Jimmy Madison, Andy Jackson, Marty Van Buren ("Van").
Later we had Frank Pierce, Zack Taylor, Milli Filmore (does that work for you?), Ulie Grant and the Harrison boys, Bill and Ben, Billie Taft and Woody Wilson. All regular guys.
I don't know what to do with Rutherford, Chester and Grover, but moving toward and into the last century we got to enjoy the Roosevelts, Teddy and Frankie, Cal ("Cool") Coolidge and Herb Hoover. All American Boys everyone.
With the 20th Century things loosened up quite a bit with Harry Truman and Jimmy Carter. But why not Ronnie Reagan and Georgie Bush?
Now we hear Barry Obama, but not very often. And it seems clear that if you want to run for President in the Republican party you have to have a one syllable name. Well that counts me out. Anyone out there named Rip, Rock, Rap or Rump interested in the job?
Dana - The Vagabond
Never give up.
*************************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. If I don't get some more Guest Authors by January 1st, I'm going to close down this invitation. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from you? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Vagabondism 241
Vagabondism #241 "Don’t blame yourself for missing the mark. Blame yourself for not aiming at it."
http://tinyurl.com/6xvgzz8
http://tinyurl.com/6xvgzz8
How's Tricks?
There is no adequate defense, except stupidity, against the impact of a new idea.
Percy Bridgeman
********************
Hello Ally
********************
I suppose one could say there is a good reason for stupidity. There are a variety of things that could cause it, and maybe in some cases it's curable. I personally believe one should be compassionate with the stupid.
But there is definitely a reason for ignorance. Ignorance is simply not knowing. We are all ignorant of most things. That doesn't make us bad. If we need to know something which we don't know, we are ignorant. And the cure for that ignorance is to find out what we need to know.
Holding on to ignorance, refusing to find out, or being afraid of finding out, or, even, preferring to remain ignorant for social, political or religious reasons, is curable stupidity. Holding on to ignorance. Tenaciously protecting it. That makes us bad.
Clarence Darrow once wrote "I do not pretend to know what a lot of ignorant men are sure of." The first step out of ignorance is to admit it. That is sometimes difficult because there are so many things we think we know, things that have been told to us by those who think they know. Or else we make assumptions on our own. I knew a preacher once who used to say "To assume makes an ass of u and me."
Sometimes our ignorance is kept alive by the legerdemain of advertisers and politicians. A magician succeeds in fooling you into thinking you know where the card is even though he has palmed it into a different pocket by taking your focus off the card.
Politicians can avoid talking about volatile issues by focusing your attention elsewhere on the superficial and general ones. They either say what we need is a change or, as in today's magic show, we need to restore.
How ,amy times has a drug company taken something as harmless as, say, a stiff neck, which can be the result of stress, tension or a bad attitude, all of which are traceable to a mental state, given it a fancy Greco/Roman title, invented a drug with a veiled medical type name to heal it and then entertained you with TV commercials to sell it.
And we are bombarded with news about the misbehavior of famous people. Two stars are spotted together on a beach in Barbados and Wham! a scandal is brewing, "bubble, bubble."
TV is a very successful way to sell cars. It must be or there wouldn't be so many of them. We see them spinning along remote highways or cruising through impossibly empty city streets. But when was the last time you saw one of those fancy cars making its way through rush hour traffic?
It takes a great effort to ignore these magic shows, but it says even more for one's intelligence to say "Wait a minute," find out the facts and blow the ignorance away. Without doing that you can't decide whether a new idea is really a new one or just a newer version of the same old snake oil.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
I will keep harping on Guest Authors until I get some more and I will
Never Give Up
***************************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. Now I want yours. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Percy Bridgeman
********************
Hello Ally
********************
I suppose one could say there is a good reason for stupidity. There are a variety of things that could cause it, and maybe in some cases it's curable. I personally believe one should be compassionate with the stupid.
But there is definitely a reason for ignorance. Ignorance is simply not knowing. We are all ignorant of most things. That doesn't make us bad. If we need to know something which we don't know, we are ignorant. And the cure for that ignorance is to find out what we need to know.
Holding on to ignorance, refusing to find out, or being afraid of finding out, or, even, preferring to remain ignorant for social, political or religious reasons, is curable stupidity. Holding on to ignorance. Tenaciously protecting it. That makes us bad.
Clarence Darrow once wrote "I do not pretend to know what a lot of ignorant men are sure of." The first step out of ignorance is to admit it. That is sometimes difficult because there are so many things we think we know, things that have been told to us by those who think they know. Or else we make assumptions on our own. I knew a preacher once who used to say "To assume makes an ass of u and me."
Sometimes our ignorance is kept alive by the legerdemain of advertisers and politicians. A magician succeeds in fooling you into thinking you know where the card is even though he has palmed it into a different pocket by taking your focus off the card.
Politicians can avoid talking about volatile issues by focusing your attention elsewhere on the superficial and general ones. They either say what we need is a change or, as in today's magic show, we need to restore.
How ,amy times has a drug company taken something as harmless as, say, a stiff neck, which can be the result of stress, tension or a bad attitude, all of which are traceable to a mental state, given it a fancy Greco/Roman title, invented a drug with a veiled medical type name to heal it and then entertained you with TV commercials to sell it.
And we are bombarded with news about the misbehavior of famous people. Two stars are spotted together on a beach in Barbados and Wham! a scandal is brewing, "bubble, bubble."
TV is a very successful way to sell cars. It must be or there wouldn't be so many of them. We see them spinning along remote highways or cruising through impossibly empty city streets. But when was the last time you saw one of those fancy cars making its way through rush hour traffic?
It takes a great effort to ignore these magic shows, but it says even more for one's intelligence to say "Wait a minute," find out the facts and blow the ignorance away. Without doing that you can't decide whether a new idea is really a new one or just a newer version of the same old snake oil.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
I will keep harping on Guest Authors until I get some more and I will
Never Give Up
***************************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. Now I want yours. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Monday, December 26, 2011
Vagabondism 240
Vagabondism #240 "Believe in what you’re doing. Try harder. And don’t give up."
dbdacoba@aol.com
dbdacoba@aol.com
Live It Up
We die daily. Happy those who come to life as well.
George MacDonald
**************************
Hello Ally
**************************
Every day is a disaster, to one degree or another. Things explode, or they implode. Things break down and refuse to get fixed. Other things don't work right. Things don't go the way you want them to or expect them to. You tried, you failed. So what's the solution? The solution is: it's another day, another chance, a reawakening.
I used to have an early morning radio program in New York City. I went on the air before most of my listeners were awake. As they came to they relied on me to tell them what day it was, what time it was, what the weather forecast was for the day, to be cheerful and entertaining, to welcome them into a new day, etc. I would also remind them frequently that they had another chance to do great things. I would pepper my announcements by saying "Thank heaven we have another day on our hands." Then, since I was in a big city with a lot of commerce going on, I would say things like "Make that sale!" "Win that case!" "Pass that test!" "Sign that contract!"
People would often write and tell me how much they appreciated those gentle boots in the rear as they were getting ready to leave the home and head out into the roaring jungle.
When you finally get going this morning or tomorrow, or any time remember that you have another day on your hands, and make a mole hill out of that mountain you made last time.
-------------------------------------------
I am still waiting for that magnetic force that moves your fingers toward your keyboard to start making clicking noises that mean you are creating the fascinating piece of writing that will make you the next Guest Author.
DB - The Vagabond
Never Give Up
*************************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. Now I want yours. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
George MacDonald
**************************
Hello Ally
**************************
Every day is a disaster, to one degree or another. Things explode, or they implode. Things break down and refuse to get fixed. Other things don't work right. Things don't go the way you want them to or expect them to. You tried, you failed. So what's the solution? The solution is: it's another day, another chance, a reawakening.
I used to have an early morning radio program in New York City. I went on the air before most of my listeners were awake. As they came to they relied on me to tell them what day it was, what time it was, what the weather forecast was for the day, to be cheerful and entertaining, to welcome them into a new day, etc. I would also remind them frequently that they had another chance to do great things. I would pepper my announcements by saying "Thank heaven we have another day on our hands." Then, since I was in a big city with a lot of commerce going on, I would say things like "Make that sale!" "Win that case!" "Pass that test!" "Sign that contract!"
People would often write and tell me how much they appreciated those gentle boots in the rear as they were getting ready to leave the home and head out into the roaring jungle.
When you finally get going this morning or tomorrow, or any time remember that you have another day on your hands, and make a mole hill out of that mountain you made last time.
-------------------------------------------
I am still waiting for that magnetic force that moves your fingers toward your keyboard to start making clicking noises that mean you are creating the fascinating piece of writing that will make you the next Guest Author.
DB - The Vagabond
Never Give Up
*************************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. Now I want yours. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Vagabondism 239
Vagabondism #239 "There is no life for those who do not dare to live it."
http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/
http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/
Dashing Through The Snow
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Irving Berlin
**********************
Hello Jon
**********************
December 25, 1957. I was in college in the suburbs of Boston, Massachusetts. I had gone down to Stamford, Connecticut the day before to spend Christmas Eve with some friends. During the night a heavy snow storm, that beautiful, quiet menace to all travelers, had crept in like a thief upon all of New England.
After a quick breakfast my friend and I uncovered his car from a blanket of white and he drove me to the train station. Once there it was obvious, even if it had not been announced in a nasal passionless tone, that the train was late due to "inclement weather conditions." No kidding.
During the several hours that we waited more people came through the door who had somehow made it from wherever they were to the Stamford depot hoping to catch a ride to somewhere else. One could clearly see the frowns of concern on the faces of the new comers who, after they had kissed, hugged and shook hands with those they were leaving behind, entered the depot to join the crowd of people, refugees, who were waiting in frustration and worry for the train, any train, to arrive outside the station.
Finally, after too many fretful hours, a train came slowly rolling into the station. I picked up my suitcase and joined the mob at the door. Once on to the train and into one of the cars it was plain that there was no place to sit. All the seats were taken and it was SRO (standing room only).
In those days a train trip from Stamford to Boston took almost 4 hours on the New Haven Railroad. At the speed this train was going I knew it would be a lot more than 4 hours, and I wasn't going to stand for all that time, so I sat down on my suitcase in the aisle. There were so many people aboard the train the conductor never took any one's ticket. There was no way for him to maneuver through the cars.
I couldn't see out the window from where I was sitting, so it was just a matter of sitting and waiting, sitting and waiting. Now and then the train would stop, but the doors wouldn't open, which meant we weren't at a station yet. When we did reach a station there was more delay as those wanting to get off had to wedge their way through the crowd of those who were still traveling. Then the passengers who were getting on had to adjust themselves to standing somewhere. What made it more difficult was that some people got on with boxes of Christmas presents and no place to put them. The overhead racks were full. The few seats that emptied were soon grabbed by those who had been standing. It resembled musical chairs.
Bridgeport, New Haven, Hartford, Springfield, Worcester, Framingham. Slowly we crawled toward Boston. It wasn't until Framingham that a seat opened up near me and I could look out the window. All I could see was snow. No sunshine, no roads, no buildings, just snow. A Winter Wonderland, if you please.
When we finally got to Boston it was very late. I was worried about catching the transportation out to the suburbs. It didn't run all night. The entrance to the MTA at the Boston bus depot was blocked off, due to ice or some other "inclement" condition. So I left the building to seek another entrance. Boston was a complete blanket of snow. There was nothing to be seen anywhere and it was night time, very dark, very cold and still snowing.
I trudged through the snow for a block or two and then, and I will never forget this image, it's branded in my memory, sticking out of a snow bank was a small corner of an MTA sign, just enough for me to recognize what it was. I went to the snow bank and started kicking the snow away until I made a crawl space through the snow to the stairs behind it, and literally slid down the ice covered steps into the bright, open space of the subway station below.
Soon the subway took me out to the suburbs. But the trip wasn't over. I don't know how it is now but in those days Boston had trackless trolleys. They looked like buses with wheels but they took their power from an electrical grid overhead. There were two arms that came out the back of the vehicle and clasped on to the grid above. The problem with that system was that whenever the trolley went over a bump in the road, of which there were many, the arms would often bounce loose from their connection. Then the driver had to get out, pull down the arms and try to reattach them to the grid wires. He eventually would and the trolley would move on.
On this night there was snow on all the streets. They had been plowed, of course, but a lot of snow had fallen since the last plow went through and the driver couldn't see what the road conditions were. I don't remember how many times he had to get out and adjust those arms. He also had to stop frequently to let a passenger off the trolly, until I was the only one left.
The driver was approaching a steep hill. I moved to the front with my suitcase and sat. I asked the driver if he had to drive up that hill. He said he did so, even though my stop was in the middle of the hill, I told him to keep going until he reached level ground at the top and let me off there. He did that, we both wished each other a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and he drove on into the blizzard.
It was still snowing and I had a long, stiff walk trekking through ankle deep snow to my apartment, but at least i knew that i would probably make it there. Which I did.
December 26, 1957. The next day I wrote a letter to my friend saying how much I had enjoyed the Christmas party and that I had no trouble getting home.
Dana Bate - The Vagabond
Never Give Up
**********************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. Now I want yours. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Just like the ones I used to know
Irving Berlin
**********************
Hello Jon
**********************
December 25, 1957. I was in college in the suburbs of Boston, Massachusetts. I had gone down to Stamford, Connecticut the day before to spend Christmas Eve with some friends. During the night a heavy snow storm, that beautiful, quiet menace to all travelers, had crept in like a thief upon all of New England.
After a quick breakfast my friend and I uncovered his car from a blanket of white and he drove me to the train station. Once there it was obvious, even if it had not been announced in a nasal passionless tone, that the train was late due to "inclement weather conditions." No kidding.
During the several hours that we waited more people came through the door who had somehow made it from wherever they were to the Stamford depot hoping to catch a ride to somewhere else. One could clearly see the frowns of concern on the faces of the new comers who, after they had kissed, hugged and shook hands with those they were leaving behind, entered the depot to join the crowd of people, refugees, who were waiting in frustration and worry for the train, any train, to arrive outside the station.
Finally, after too many fretful hours, a train came slowly rolling into the station. I picked up my suitcase and joined the mob at the door. Once on to the train and into one of the cars it was plain that there was no place to sit. All the seats were taken and it was SRO (standing room only).
In those days a train trip from Stamford to Boston took almost 4 hours on the New Haven Railroad. At the speed this train was going I knew it would be a lot more than 4 hours, and I wasn't going to stand for all that time, so I sat down on my suitcase in the aisle. There were so many people aboard the train the conductor never took any one's ticket. There was no way for him to maneuver through the cars.
I couldn't see out the window from where I was sitting, so it was just a matter of sitting and waiting, sitting and waiting. Now and then the train would stop, but the doors wouldn't open, which meant we weren't at a station yet. When we did reach a station there was more delay as those wanting to get off had to wedge their way through the crowd of those who were still traveling. Then the passengers who were getting on had to adjust themselves to standing somewhere. What made it more difficult was that some people got on with boxes of Christmas presents and no place to put them. The overhead racks were full. The few seats that emptied were soon grabbed by those who had been standing. It resembled musical chairs.
Bridgeport, New Haven, Hartford, Springfield, Worcester, Framingham. Slowly we crawled toward Boston. It wasn't until Framingham that a seat opened up near me and I could look out the window. All I could see was snow. No sunshine, no roads, no buildings, just snow. A Winter Wonderland, if you please.
When we finally got to Boston it was very late. I was worried about catching the transportation out to the suburbs. It didn't run all night. The entrance to the MTA at the Boston bus depot was blocked off, due to ice or some other "inclement" condition. So I left the building to seek another entrance. Boston was a complete blanket of snow. There was nothing to be seen anywhere and it was night time, very dark, very cold and still snowing.
I trudged through the snow for a block or two and then, and I will never forget this image, it's branded in my memory, sticking out of a snow bank was a small corner of an MTA sign, just enough for me to recognize what it was. I went to the snow bank and started kicking the snow away until I made a crawl space through the snow to the stairs behind it, and literally slid down the ice covered steps into the bright, open space of the subway station below.
Soon the subway took me out to the suburbs. But the trip wasn't over. I don't know how it is now but in those days Boston had trackless trolleys. They looked like buses with wheels but they took their power from an electrical grid overhead. There were two arms that came out the back of the vehicle and clasped on to the grid above. The problem with that system was that whenever the trolley went over a bump in the road, of which there were many, the arms would often bounce loose from their connection. Then the driver had to get out, pull down the arms and try to reattach them to the grid wires. He eventually would and the trolley would move on.
On this night there was snow on all the streets. They had been plowed, of course, but a lot of snow had fallen since the last plow went through and the driver couldn't see what the road conditions were. I don't remember how many times he had to get out and adjust those arms. He also had to stop frequently to let a passenger off the trolly, until I was the only one left.
The driver was approaching a steep hill. I moved to the front with my suitcase and sat. I asked the driver if he had to drive up that hill. He said he did so, even though my stop was in the middle of the hill, I told him to keep going until he reached level ground at the top and let me off there. He did that, we both wished each other a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and he drove on into the blizzard.
It was still snowing and I had a long, stiff walk trekking through ankle deep snow to my apartment, but at least i knew that i would probably make it there. Which I did.
December 26, 1957. The next day I wrote a letter to my friend saying how much I had enjoyed the Christmas party and that I had no trouble getting home.
Dana Bate - The Vagabond
Never Give Up
**********************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. Now I want yours. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Visions Of Sugar Plums
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Clement Clarke Moore
or
Henry Livingston, Jr.
**************************
Hello Ally
**************************
Tis the day before Christmas and all through my apartment there is no stirring, scurrying nor hurrying. There is no family around here, no reason to cook and no space for a tree. I will celebrate Christmas as I usually do, quietly and gracefully by myself. I will dine on a bowl of grits and some clam chowder. Don't feel sorry for me, I can afford the chowder. Because I cooked the grits I can now afford the chowder. It's a matter of simple economics, something Congress seems to have some confusion about.
Christmas is one of those days, like Thanksgiving and July Fourth, when we can forget the way we behave the rest of the year. The holidays usually just mean to me a day when the mail doesn't come. But this year Christmas is on Sunday and the mail wouldn't come anyway, so what's the difference?
Since I'm not affiliated with any church I'm not bound to the traditional rubrics of liturgical Christmas celebrations. But if I am anything, if I have to be categorized to differentiate myself from others, I'm a Christian. What I definitely am not is a Conservative. Any thinking Christian would know that Christianity and Conservatism is an emulsion, two things that don't mix. Any earnest Bible scholar, which I am (though not exclusively to be sure), would see why that is true.
Christmas day is the traditional celebration of the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, a most remarkable man who brought to the world a clearer, more liberal, more spiritual interpretation, of the Jewish theology. He was often homeless, worked on the Sabbath, had compassion on the poor, ill and destitute, got angry, hungry and thirsty, and sleepy. He had friends, enjoyed parties, loved kids and had a sense of humor. (If you don't believe that read John 1: 45 - 50 (Stick around, you ain't seen nothing yet.) or John 21: 4 - 6.)
Jesus never involved himself in politics, he never joined any party, association, committee or group, he stood up to and rebuked the priests, scribes and Pharisees, the conservatives of his day. And, like Socrates before him, he refused to break the law to save his life.
This is a time to celebrate, to love, to roam through pleasant memories,and to delight in new experiences. It's a time to renew bonds and to remember why we come together. I will celebrate Christmas in my own quiet way. And if you are celebrating it I wish you a day of joy and merriment and great blessings for the year to follow.
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
Dana Bate - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
*********************************
*********************************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. Now I want yours. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so, or Santa won't come down your chimney. (I know he won't anyway, but that's beside the point.)
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Clement Clarke Moore
or
Henry Livingston, Jr.
**************************
Hello Ally
**************************
Tis the day before Christmas and all through my apartment there is no stirring, scurrying nor hurrying. There is no family around here, no reason to cook and no space for a tree. I will celebrate Christmas as I usually do, quietly and gracefully by myself. I will dine on a bowl of grits and some clam chowder. Don't feel sorry for me, I can afford the chowder. Because I cooked the grits I can now afford the chowder. It's a matter of simple economics, something Congress seems to have some confusion about.
Christmas is one of those days, like Thanksgiving and July Fourth, when we can forget the way we behave the rest of the year. The holidays usually just mean to me a day when the mail doesn't come. But this year Christmas is on Sunday and the mail wouldn't come anyway, so what's the difference?
Since I'm not affiliated with any church I'm not bound to the traditional rubrics of liturgical Christmas celebrations. But if I am anything, if I have to be categorized to differentiate myself from others, I'm a Christian. What I definitely am not is a Conservative. Any thinking Christian would know that Christianity and Conservatism is an emulsion, two things that don't mix. Any earnest Bible scholar, which I am (though not exclusively to be sure), would see why that is true.
Christmas day is the traditional celebration of the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, a most remarkable man who brought to the world a clearer, more liberal, more spiritual interpretation, of the Jewish theology. He was often homeless, worked on the Sabbath, had compassion on the poor, ill and destitute, got angry, hungry and thirsty, and sleepy. He had friends, enjoyed parties, loved kids and had a sense of humor. (If you don't believe that read John 1: 45 - 50 (Stick around, you ain't seen nothing yet.) or John 21: 4 - 6.)
Jesus never involved himself in politics, he never joined any party, association, committee or group, he stood up to and rebuked the priests, scribes and Pharisees, the conservatives of his day. And, like Socrates before him, he refused to break the law to save his life.
This is a time to celebrate, to love, to roam through pleasant memories,and to delight in new experiences. It's a time to renew bonds and to remember why we come together. I will celebrate Christmas in my own quiet way. And if you are celebrating it I wish you a day of joy and merriment and great blessings for the year to follow.
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
Dana Bate - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
*********************************
*********************************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. Now I want yours. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so, or Santa won't come down your chimney. (I know he won't anyway, but that's beside the point.)
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Friday, December 23, 2011
Vagabondism 237
Vagabondism #237 "Style is the joining of grace and enthusiasm."
http://tinyurl.com/6xvgzz8
http://tinyurl.com/6xvgzz8
No Limits
The well of providence is deep, it's the buckets we bring to it that are small.
Mary Webb
*******************
Hello Rose
*******************
Someone once remarked that every time human beings discover something pleasurable and enjoyable to do some government will pass laws to regulate and limit it. Why should there be any limits to life?
Why should there be any limits to good? Where did we get the idea of "going too far"? It is those who go too far that stretch the limits. The sour notes sung by the negativists are simple challenges to the spirit of the adventurers, the ones who do what can't be done or "shouldn't be done."
Just over 100 years ago the automobile became the mode of travel for those who could afford one. It was said by great authority that it was impossible for the human being to travel faster than 8 miles an hour and survive. "Holy cow, look at us now." Some of us travel through space faster than the speed of sound. "Yeah, but you can't travel faster than the speed of light and survive." Well, we'll se. Won't we?
Why should there be any limits to wealth? Those unfortunate millionaires who hoard money think there are. "If I don't have more than enough I don't have enough."
Why should there be limits to happiness? There are no limits to technology and engineering. Do we measure our happiness by the number of gadgets and machines we own? If so we are limiting our happiness. There will always be another, better gadget. I read about a robot that has another robot attached to it that makes repairs on the first robot. How far can they carry an idea like that? As far as they want to. There are no limits.
"Well, you have to draw the line somewhere." Oh? It's the drawing of unnecessary lines that keeps our buckets small.
Why should there be any limits to evil? There should be no evil and therefore no limits. The only measurement of evil is how long it takes to destroy itself.
'Whoa! Slow down. Back up." No. Look forward and go that way. Enjoy the life you have, even with its limitations, and find ways to make it better.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
*************************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. Now I want yours. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so, or Santa won't come down your chimney. (I know he won't anyway, but that's beside the point.)
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Mary Webb
*******************
Hello Rose
*******************
Someone once remarked that every time human beings discover something pleasurable and enjoyable to do some government will pass laws to regulate and limit it. Why should there be any limits to life?
Why should there be any limits to good? Where did we get the idea of "going too far"? It is those who go too far that stretch the limits. The sour notes sung by the negativists are simple challenges to the spirit of the adventurers, the ones who do what can't be done or "shouldn't be done."
Just over 100 years ago the automobile became the mode of travel for those who could afford one. It was said by great authority that it was impossible for the human being to travel faster than 8 miles an hour and survive. "Holy cow, look at us now." Some of us travel through space faster than the speed of sound. "Yeah, but you can't travel faster than the speed of light and survive." Well, we'll se. Won't we?
Why should there be any limits to wealth? Those unfortunate millionaires who hoard money think there are. "If I don't have more than enough I don't have enough."
Why should there be limits to happiness? There are no limits to technology and engineering. Do we measure our happiness by the number of gadgets and machines we own? If so we are limiting our happiness. There will always be another, better gadget. I read about a robot that has another robot attached to it that makes repairs on the first robot. How far can they carry an idea like that? As far as they want to. There are no limits.
"Well, you have to draw the line somewhere." Oh? It's the drawing of unnecessary lines that keeps our buckets small.
Why should there be any limits to evil? There should be no evil and therefore no limits. The only measurement of evil is how long it takes to destroy itself.
'Whoa! Slow down. Back up." No. Look forward and go that way. Enjoy the life you have, even with its limitations, and find ways to make it better.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
*************************
Look here. I have 10 Guest Author entries since I started offering this invitation. Now I want yours. If you haven't posted one here yet, please do so, or Santa won't come down your chimney. (I know he won't anyway, but that's beside the point.)
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post an entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have things to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your own journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Guest Author 10
Guest Author #10
We've waited and waited for this day. Thirteen years to be exact. When my husband John was 36 years old, as most of you know, he was diagnosed with Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma. It was unusual how John's physician, at the time, found the cancer. Dr. Hall was doing surgery for a hernia correction when he found a tumor that happened to be the lymphoma. It was both one of the worst things that could happen during a hernia surgery, yet a real blessing -- if the surgeon hadn't opened John up, he never would have found the tumor and John would have never started to fight the dreadful cancer he had, which, as I stated, was Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma. John had more than one tumor, and was staged at 3B. And the cancer was in his lymph nodes. The surgeon stated that if he had not found the cancerous tumor when he had, John would have been dead within six months.
Back 13 years ago, blood cancer doctors (hematologists/oncologists) didn't have a lot of hope for patients with NHL. John was told that even if he was put into remission, he probably wouldn't live. He was advised to be proactive, choose a method of treatment and do everything he could to fight. This would extend his life for only a few years, they said. And this, the hem/oncs (blood cancer doctors), told John, could buy him enough time until enough time for another treatment or cure came along, so that if it happened enough time, John would be able to live.
I have asked John how he could live like this. He has told me, "You do what you got to do. If you were going to die, you would do what you had to do. There was no other option. Everybody keeps calling me brave. An inspiration. I am not an inspiration. All I did was survive."
On the contrary, I believe John is an inspiration. I'm not sure I wouldn't have gotten depressed and quit. I'm not sure I would've been able to last the 13 years, before I was declared OK, and worked so hard. But then again, you never know. As John says, "You do what you have to do."
Okay, this post has gotten long, so I am going to finish it tomorrow. I hope you come back to read the rest. Meanwhile, I've got a question for you:
I think John was an inspiration. I think the fact he did work hard to survive is an inspiration. I think he did "more than survive" and he's a true hero, trying and trying, until he finally got into remission. I will explain how his remission, and how Dr Claxton is actually calling it a "cure", came 13 years later, in the next post or two. But for now, I want to ask you this:
Did John just do what he had to do? Or is he an inspiration to you? Just wondering. I am going to be showing him the answers!
************************
************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
We've waited and waited for this day. Thirteen years to be exact. When my husband John was 36 years old, as most of you know, he was diagnosed with Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma. It was unusual how John's physician, at the time, found the cancer. Dr. Hall was doing surgery for a hernia correction when he found a tumor that happened to be the lymphoma. It was both one of the worst things that could happen during a hernia surgery, yet a real blessing -- if the surgeon hadn't opened John up, he never would have found the tumor and John would have never started to fight the dreadful cancer he had, which, as I stated, was Non Hodgkin's Lymphoma. John had more than one tumor, and was staged at 3B. And the cancer was in his lymph nodes. The surgeon stated that if he had not found the cancerous tumor when he had, John would have been dead within six months.
Back 13 years ago, blood cancer doctors (hematologists/oncologists) didn't have a lot of hope for patients with NHL. John was told that even if he was put into remission, he probably wouldn't live. He was advised to be proactive, choose a method of treatment and do everything he could to fight. This would extend his life for only a few years, they said. And this, the hem/oncs (blood cancer doctors), told John, could buy him enough time until enough time for another treatment or cure came along, so that if it happened enough time, John would be able to live.
I have asked John how he could live like this. He has told me, "You do what you got to do. If you were going to die, you would do what you had to do. There was no other option. Everybody keeps calling me brave. An inspiration. I am not an inspiration. All I did was survive."
On the contrary, I believe John is an inspiration. I'm not sure I wouldn't have gotten depressed and quit. I'm not sure I would've been able to last the 13 years, before I was declared OK, and worked so hard. But then again, you never know. As John says, "You do what you have to do."
Okay, this post has gotten long, so I am going to finish it tomorrow. I hope you come back to read the rest. Meanwhile, I've got a question for you:
I think John was an inspiration. I think the fact he did work hard to survive is an inspiration. I think he did "more than survive" and he's a true hero, trying and trying, until he finally got into remission. I will explain how his remission, and how Dr Claxton is actually calling it a "cure", came 13 years later, in the next post or two. But for now, I want to ask you this:
Did John just do what he had to do? Or is he an inspiration to you? Just wondering. I am going to be showing him the answers!
************************
************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 10 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can I hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Vagabondism 236
Vagabondism #236 "The idea of “heaven,” “paradise” or “other worldliness” should not be thought of as compensation for the life you live." http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/
Winter Wings
Winter comes in on eagles' wings.
Dana Bate
********************
Hello Jon
********************
During the past decade I spent one Christmas in sunny southern California, one in frozen northern Vermont and all the rest in unpredictable eastern Pennsylvania. Being an incurable northeasterner I enjoyed the Vermont Christmas the most, I think. The people, the cats, even the snow covered back yard.
I don't know what the reason is for actually looking forward to the winter months. Maybe it's age, experience, the robust challenge of dealing with cold weather: snow, sleet, freezing rain and temperatures below any human comfort.
Winter is a time for learning lessons. How strong am I? How adroit am I at getting over snow banks and down icy sidewalks? How prepared am I at putting up with the slap of brazen winds? And how well, when the end of the year festivities are over and the last lifeless bit of champagne from the New Years Even party has been tilted from the bottom of the glass, will I deal with the dregs of the long winter to follow, it's depressions and it's relentless lack of colors? The shortness of the daylight and the length of the darkness? The emotional temptations of the attacks from the nasty angel on my aloneness?
I do look forward to Winter in spite of all those things because I know how strong I will prove myself to be. And in spite of my cane and my geezerness (geezerality? geezership? geezerosity?) I shall face the flapping, predatory wings of Winter with cheerfulness. And I will do that because I want to.
DB - The Vagabond
**********************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 8 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can i hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Dana Bate
********************
Hello Jon
********************
During the past decade I spent one Christmas in sunny southern California, one in frozen northern Vermont and all the rest in unpredictable eastern Pennsylvania. Being an incurable northeasterner I enjoyed the Vermont Christmas the most, I think. The people, the cats, even the snow covered back yard.
I don't know what the reason is for actually looking forward to the winter months. Maybe it's age, experience, the robust challenge of dealing with cold weather: snow, sleet, freezing rain and temperatures below any human comfort.
Winter is a time for learning lessons. How strong am I? How adroit am I at getting over snow banks and down icy sidewalks? How prepared am I at putting up with the slap of brazen winds? And how well, when the end of the year festivities are over and the last lifeless bit of champagne from the New Years Even party has been tilted from the bottom of the glass, will I deal with the dregs of the long winter to follow, it's depressions and it's relentless lack of colors? The shortness of the daylight and the length of the darkness? The emotional temptations of the attacks from the nasty angel on my aloneness?
I do look forward to Winter in spite of all those things because I know how strong I will prove myself to be. And in spite of my cane and my geezerness (geezerality? geezership? geezerosity?) I shall face the flapping, predatory wings of Winter with cheerfulness. And I will do that because I want to.
DB - The Vagabond
**********************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 8 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can i hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Guest Author 9
Guest Author #9
I remember the hustle and bustle of dressing up in my finest before the mad dash to grab one of the last parking spots in the church for Midnight Mass. How early did people arrive to get a seat, I would wonder, as the clock just struck half past eleven. Still thirty more minutes before the service and the place was packed to the rafters.
Growing up Catholic in a predominantly French-speaking part of town (even though I was of Hungarian/Ukrainian background), meant that the Midnight Mass service was nearly two hours long, interspersed with Latin, French and English verses. I got by with my rudimentary French from high school and would mouth out the words slowly and deliberately to the hymns.
It would be so stuffy in the pews with the smell of alcohol and strong perfume, along with mothball scented fur coats way past their prime - that often left me nauseous and looking for a quick escape route, only to be brought back to my senses when it was time to kneel and pray for forgiveness. I always prayed that I wouldn't faint before I got up to accept the host and repent my sins.
After the long procession of yet more "Hallelujahs", everyone would forget whether they were supposed to stand or kneel or make the sign of the cross, that I would give a scowl or two to those that appeared to make a mockery of one of the most sacred nights of the year. This was the event that I had waited for, the booming voices of the well-tuned choir belting out "Silent Night, Holy Night" and someone off key always shouting louder than the choir.
I remember the hairs on my arms standing straight up when an Angelic voice would ring out in time with the chimes rung by the alter boys. Everyone would go silent to let the Priest dismiss the congregation and I could almost feel the spirit of a higher power brushing by each and every one of us. "Merry Christmas", "Peace be with you" we would shout in unison to all as we squeezed into our lines to depart. The parking lot was a chaotic mess of tangled red and gold lights blinking in turn as we snaked our way to the road. The neighbouring streets were alive with lights that shone brighter than before, and I would always gaze into the sky looking for that one special guiding star to lead me home.
Once home, it was time to put the last minute presents underneath the tree. I would stay up longer than anyone else just to soak in the silence of Christmas Eve. "Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring..." would play in my head.
This year, I cannot bring myself to go to church. If I do, I would cry my eyes out at the thought that my Dad is no longer with us, and my almost 90 year old Mom is too frail to stay up that late. I know she misses the excitement I often felt, and also - my Dad. I will watch Midnight Mass services on the television, gaze at the golden stars that have often guided my faith and fill the stockings with trinkets for my daughters and husband.
Christmas morning I will wake up early and pour myself a cup of coffee to sit in solitude, and watch the birds feast on the food that I have hung up for them. And I will ask them, "where are you Christmas?" and wait for a reply.
Always, Rose~*
*************************
*************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 9 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can i hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
I remember the hustle and bustle of dressing up in my finest before the mad dash to grab one of the last parking spots in the church for Midnight Mass. How early did people arrive to get a seat, I would wonder, as the clock just struck half past eleven. Still thirty more minutes before the service and the place was packed to the rafters.
Growing up Catholic in a predominantly French-speaking part of town (even though I was of Hungarian/Ukrainian background), meant that the Midnight Mass service was nearly two hours long, interspersed with Latin, French and English verses. I got by with my rudimentary French from high school and would mouth out the words slowly and deliberately to the hymns.
It would be so stuffy in the pews with the smell of alcohol and strong perfume, along with mothball scented fur coats way past their prime - that often left me nauseous and looking for a quick escape route, only to be brought back to my senses when it was time to kneel and pray for forgiveness. I always prayed that I wouldn't faint before I got up to accept the host and repent my sins.
After the long procession of yet more "Hallelujahs", everyone would forget whether they were supposed to stand or kneel or make the sign of the cross, that I would give a scowl or two to those that appeared to make a mockery of one of the most sacred nights of the year. This was the event that I had waited for, the booming voices of the well-tuned choir belting out "Silent Night, Holy Night" and someone off key always shouting louder than the choir.
I remember the hairs on my arms standing straight up when an Angelic voice would ring out in time with the chimes rung by the alter boys. Everyone would go silent to let the Priest dismiss the congregation and I could almost feel the spirit of a higher power brushing by each and every one of us. "Merry Christmas", "Peace be with you" we would shout in unison to all as we squeezed into our lines to depart. The parking lot was a chaotic mess of tangled red and gold lights blinking in turn as we snaked our way to the road. The neighbouring streets were alive with lights that shone brighter than before, and I would always gaze into the sky looking for that one special guiding star to lead me home.
Once home, it was time to put the last minute presents underneath the tree. I would stay up longer than anyone else just to soak in the silence of Christmas Eve. "Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring..." would play in my head.
This year, I cannot bring myself to go to church. If I do, I would cry my eyes out at the thought that my Dad is no longer with us, and my almost 90 year old Mom is too frail to stay up that late. I know she misses the excitement I often felt, and also - my Dad. I will watch Midnight Mass services on the television, gaze at the golden stars that have often guided my faith and fill the stockings with trinkets for my daughters and husband.
Christmas morning I will wake up early and pour myself a cup of coffee to sit in solitude, and watch the birds feast on the food that I have hung up for them. And I will ask them, "where are you Christmas?" and wait for a reply.
Always, Rose~*
*************************
*************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 9 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can i hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Monday, December 19, 2011
Put Your Armor On
The only thing needed for evil to prosper is for good men to do nothing.
Edmund Burke
********************
Hello Geo
*********************
The advocates of error
Foresee the glorious morn,
And hear in shrinking terror
The watchword of reform:
Ir rings from hill and valley,
I breaks oppression's chain.
A thousand freemen rally,
And swell the mighty strain.
(Anonymous)
In the North, Winter is slowly approaching like a company of silent tanks. And before it, to announce it, are the cold biting winds of ignorance. This is a time for holidays, joy, festivities, families and happiness. But, as one guest author pointed out, it has become a time for the frenzy of shopping, trying to get the latest game or gadget before the store is sold out. Beginning on Black Friday where people, who should have been enjoying the echoes of Thanksgiving for harvest, were lined up in the cold ready to participate in the mad mob wrestling match of bargain shopping.
As the Winter comes in it is not enough just to be armed with coats, gloves. boots, hats and scarves. In the dark and hidden places are the pockets of poorness and despair that grip the world even worse than the season of ice. And galloping behind Santa's reindeer is a herd of vicious, mindless beasts whose only purpose is to destroy.
Those who claim the homeless refuse to work should not have their homes taken away from them by a compassionless bank. That sort of revenge would do nothing. The should be educated out of their prejudice. Those who say if you don't have a job it's your own fault should not be laid off from a secure position to walk the streets in this shaky economy looking for any nonexistent job. That sort of revenge does nothing. They should be educated out of their ignorance. Those who hoard their wealth should not be reduced to poverty. That sort of revenge would do nothing. They should be educated out of their greed. Those who rhapsodize about America being the greatest country in the world should not be forced to live in the places where it isn't. They should be educated to know those places are there.
For centuries, the world over, civil disobedience has been a powerful means for bringing down the tyrants. It helped to establish the labor unions which protected the working person from the tyranny of insecurity, exploitation and unfair and unhealthy working conditions. Civil disobedience brought about the Civil Rights legislation. It brought about the American and other revolutions. It has brought down monarchs and set up national self government.
So now the Occupiers of the world, risking safety, harm and their lives, are sounding "the watchword of reform" and, as usual, it is met by the strong arm of the tyrant. But, also as usual, it will be heard by those who are terrified by ignorance or guilt.
To pass safely through this Winter we need the armor of righteousness, honest endeavor, persistence and faith. We need the coats and hats that allow us to stand sturdily against the cold blasts of ignorance. And we need to never give up as we work for the "glorious morn.".
Let the culprits run and hide if they will ad leave the world for the real people to bustle in.
Dana Bate - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 8 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can i hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Edmund Burke
********************
Hello Geo
*********************
The advocates of error
Foresee the glorious morn,
And hear in shrinking terror
The watchword of reform:
Ir rings from hill and valley,
I breaks oppression's chain.
A thousand freemen rally,
And swell the mighty strain.
(Anonymous)
In the North, Winter is slowly approaching like a company of silent tanks. And before it, to announce it, are the cold biting winds of ignorance. This is a time for holidays, joy, festivities, families and happiness. But, as one guest author pointed out, it has become a time for the frenzy of shopping, trying to get the latest game or gadget before the store is sold out. Beginning on Black Friday where people, who should have been enjoying the echoes of Thanksgiving for harvest, were lined up in the cold ready to participate in the mad mob wrestling match of bargain shopping.
As the Winter comes in it is not enough just to be armed with coats, gloves. boots, hats and scarves. In the dark and hidden places are the pockets of poorness and despair that grip the world even worse than the season of ice. And galloping behind Santa's reindeer is a herd of vicious, mindless beasts whose only purpose is to destroy.
Those who claim the homeless refuse to work should not have their homes taken away from them by a compassionless bank. That sort of revenge would do nothing. The should be educated out of their prejudice. Those who say if you don't have a job it's your own fault should not be laid off from a secure position to walk the streets in this shaky economy looking for any nonexistent job. That sort of revenge does nothing. They should be educated out of their ignorance. Those who hoard their wealth should not be reduced to poverty. That sort of revenge would do nothing. They should be educated out of their greed. Those who rhapsodize about America being the greatest country in the world should not be forced to live in the places where it isn't. They should be educated to know those places are there.
For centuries, the world over, civil disobedience has been a powerful means for bringing down the tyrants. It helped to establish the labor unions which protected the working person from the tyranny of insecurity, exploitation and unfair and unhealthy working conditions. Civil disobedience brought about the Civil Rights legislation. It brought about the American and other revolutions. It has brought down monarchs and set up national self government.
So now the Occupiers of the world, risking safety, harm and their lives, are sounding "the watchword of reform" and, as usual, it is met by the strong arm of the tyrant. But, also as usual, it will be heard by those who are terrified by ignorance or guilt.
To pass safely through this Winter we need the armor of righteousness, honest endeavor, persistence and faith. We need the coats and hats that allow us to stand sturdily against the cold blasts of ignorance. And we need to never give up as we work for the "glorious morn.".
Let the culprits run and hide if they will ad leave the world for the real people to bustle in.
Dana Bate - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
I have 8 Guest Authors so far. Check them out. Can i hear from Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America? All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Guest Author 8
Guest Author # 8
The best of my Christmases were those of very early childhood - when life was pure, uncomplicated, blessedly innocent: the enchantment of silver tinsel, colored lights, reflections in Christmas balls. The anticipation of Santa and new toys. And snow. Falling soundlessly in the magical night. When I was five, we moved three thousand miles away to the Pacific Coast. My first Southern California Christmas was in the sleepy town of Glendora. In the fertile foothills of the mountains amidst orange groves, lemon trees, date palms. Snow-capped Mount Baldy in the background. Postcard perfect in those days. Christmas decorations shimmering uncomfortably in the warm, eternal sunshine.
Later, the magic of Christmas vanished along with the innocence of youth. Somehow the holiday season regressed to nothing more than a time of overwhelming sadness, which only served to reflect the chaos and unhappiness that was suffocating my existence. The endless battle with my father's insane violence which, ironically, often peaked at this peaceful time of year.
There were Christmases that I can hardly bear to remember: the cold, foggy Christmas Eve when we had to hide in the farthest depths of the yard, scarcely daring to breathe, for fear that my father would kill us in his drunken rage. The terror. The beatings. He'd locked my mother and I out of the house and there was nowhere to go. Nowhere.....
Yet another Christmas Eve when my father left us penniless. We had no clue where he was or if he'd ever be back. Somehow his absence was a blessed gift........a rare gift of unobtainable peace. But I was very sick with a high fever and a cough that rapidly developed into pneumonia. In a hospital, an adverse reaction to penicillin almost took my life. When I awoke from unconsciousness, I was strangely sorry to be alive......
Other Christmases pass in distant memories (like a faded Christmas card packed away in a forgotten place). Christmas Eve alone on the mist-drenched streets of Hollywood. Me, nineteen and pretending to be tough. With a bottle of whiskey in my coat pocket and a switchblade in my boot. Chain-smoking. A fallen angel in a midnight cowboy disguise. Later, quenching the loneliness in the arms of yet another stranger......
Merry Christmas, whoever you are.........
But there were other Christmases, much more gentle and easily remembered: Los Angeles winter nights that were warm with the richness of golden memories. The opera, the ballet, concerts at the Music Center. Me, playing the harpsichord in a lavish production of Handel's Messiah. Me, performing an endless succession of piano recitals. Wonderful friends, unforgettable lovers. Some of the most interesting people I've ever known. Los Angeles at it's vintage best.
Later, in another time and place, an exquisite Christmas Eve in the mountains of New Mexico. A classic adobe church, the altar ablaze with candles, reflections in stained glass, the angelic sweetness of the choir. Soft, feathery snow falling in the depths of a blessedly peaceful midnight.
And it inevitably comes full-circle: another Christmas, a West Texas Christmas. A time to cast aside the unending burden of life's trials and tribulations and find the peace that was always within me. A time to savor and be thankful - - truly thankful for the friends and family that I have. A time, not for the accumulation of monetary gifts, but rather of spiritual gifts. Christmas is merely a grand illusion. It is what we want it to be and what we will it to be. It is in our hearts........
by Jon
www.lonestarconcerto.blogspot.com
************************************
************************************
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
The best of my Christmases were those of very early childhood - when life was pure, uncomplicated, blessedly innocent: the enchantment of silver tinsel, colored lights, reflections in Christmas balls. The anticipation of Santa and new toys. And snow. Falling soundlessly in the magical night. When I was five, we moved three thousand miles away to the Pacific Coast. My first Southern California Christmas was in the sleepy town of Glendora. In the fertile foothills of the mountains amidst orange groves, lemon trees, date palms. Snow-capped Mount Baldy in the background. Postcard perfect in those days. Christmas decorations shimmering uncomfortably in the warm, eternal sunshine.
Later, the magic of Christmas vanished along with the innocence of youth. Somehow the holiday season regressed to nothing more than a time of overwhelming sadness, which only served to reflect the chaos and unhappiness that was suffocating my existence. The endless battle with my father's insane violence which, ironically, often peaked at this peaceful time of year.
There were Christmases that I can hardly bear to remember: the cold, foggy Christmas Eve when we had to hide in the farthest depths of the yard, scarcely daring to breathe, for fear that my father would kill us in his drunken rage. The terror. The beatings. He'd locked my mother and I out of the house and there was nowhere to go. Nowhere.....
Yet another Christmas Eve when my father left us penniless. We had no clue where he was or if he'd ever be back. Somehow his absence was a blessed gift........a rare gift of unobtainable peace. But I was very sick with a high fever and a cough that rapidly developed into pneumonia. In a hospital, an adverse reaction to penicillin almost took my life. When I awoke from unconsciousness, I was strangely sorry to be alive......
Other Christmases pass in distant memories (like a faded Christmas card packed away in a forgotten place). Christmas Eve alone on the mist-drenched streets of Hollywood. Me, nineteen and pretending to be tough. With a bottle of whiskey in my coat pocket and a switchblade in my boot. Chain-smoking. A fallen angel in a midnight cowboy disguise. Later, quenching the loneliness in the arms of yet another stranger......
Merry Christmas, whoever you are.........
But there were other Christmases, much more gentle and easily remembered: Los Angeles winter nights that were warm with the richness of golden memories. The opera, the ballet, concerts at the Music Center. Me, playing the harpsichord in a lavish production of Handel's Messiah. Me, performing an endless succession of piano recitals. Wonderful friends, unforgettable lovers. Some of the most interesting people I've ever known. Los Angeles at it's vintage best.
Later, in another time and place, an exquisite Christmas Eve in the mountains of New Mexico. A classic adobe church, the altar ablaze with candles, reflections in stained glass, the angelic sweetness of the choir. Soft, feathery snow falling in the depths of a blessedly peaceful midnight.
And it inevitably comes full-circle: another Christmas, a West Texas Christmas. A time to cast aside the unending burden of life's trials and tribulations and find the peace that was always within me. A time to savor and be thankful - - truly thankful for the friends and family that I have. A time, not for the accumulation of monetary gifts, but rather of spiritual gifts. Christmas is merely a grand illusion. It is what we want it to be and what we will it to be. It is in our hearts........
by Jon
www.lonestarconcerto.blogspot.com
************************************
************************************
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Guest Author 7
Guest Author #7
Christmas was always a special time as I was growing up. My first recollection of Christmas was probably in 1945 or 1946 after my dad came home from WWII. The old photo albums show pictures of decorated trees and a young me, sitting on the floor in front of the tree with my Christmas gifts.
When I was 10 years old we moved to a smaller house while a new house was being built on the front of that acreage. There was only room for a small tree, standing on a card table in the corner of the living room. But the decorations were lovely and as always the tree was loaded with lots of silver tinsel. My mom loved tinsel and she wanted it hung on the tree one piece at a time. I remember when I was a teenager, she gave over the tinsel hanging project over to me and my younger brother. We opened the packages and hysterically threw handfuls of the stuff at the tree. Mom was not pleased.
At this point in my life my grandmother and great grandfather were also living on the same property. So of course they were always part of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Frequently my aunt, uncle and cousins would travel across the mountain pass to spend the day with us.
My grandmother and my dad both worked for the railroad. Grandma worked the graveyard shift, and my dad worked the afternoon shift. I remember he always had Wednesday and Thursday off so unless Christmas fell on one of those days, he had to leave for work at 3:30 in the afternoon. Mom always figured a way to have Christmas dinner or Christmas brunch around grandma sleeping and dad leaving for work.
My great grandfather passed away the first week of December 1958. He had all his Christmas gifts wrapped and ready. My gift from him that year was a decorative tin filled with pennies. I still have the gift tag he had taped to that tin.
Besides all the wonderful, happy family memories I also remember the memories of Sunday school Christmas programs. At one point in my life I was the tallest and had to stand in the back row behind everyone-I didn't like that very much. But I'm thankful that I learned at an early age the reason we celebrated Christmas. I knew that Jesus was not actually born on December 25th but that's the day that was chosen many, many years ago to celebrate his birth. I remember hearing the story of his birth over and over, read from the Bible. I still read it every year at this time. I can't remember when I didn't know the words to 'Away In A Manger' and 'Silent Night'. And when I became a mother, I sang 'Away In A Manger' as a lullaby to my children.
For me and my entire family.....Christmas is a time to be with family and friends but also a time to stop and remember that precious babe born in a stable all those many years ago.
*********************************
*********************************
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Christmas was always a special time as I was growing up. My first recollection of Christmas was probably in 1945 or 1946 after my dad came home from WWII. The old photo albums show pictures of decorated trees and a young me, sitting on the floor in front of the tree with my Christmas gifts.
When I was 10 years old we moved to a smaller house while a new house was being built on the front of that acreage. There was only room for a small tree, standing on a card table in the corner of the living room. But the decorations were lovely and as always the tree was loaded with lots of silver tinsel. My mom loved tinsel and she wanted it hung on the tree one piece at a time. I remember when I was a teenager, she gave over the tinsel hanging project over to me and my younger brother. We opened the packages and hysterically threw handfuls of the stuff at the tree. Mom was not pleased.
At this point in my life my grandmother and great grandfather were also living on the same property. So of course they were always part of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Frequently my aunt, uncle and cousins would travel across the mountain pass to spend the day with us.
My grandmother and my dad both worked for the railroad. Grandma worked the graveyard shift, and my dad worked the afternoon shift. I remember he always had Wednesday and Thursday off so unless Christmas fell on one of those days, he had to leave for work at 3:30 in the afternoon. Mom always figured a way to have Christmas dinner or Christmas brunch around grandma sleeping and dad leaving for work.
My great grandfather passed away the first week of December 1958. He had all his Christmas gifts wrapped and ready. My gift from him that year was a decorative tin filled with pennies. I still have the gift tag he had taped to that tin.
Besides all the wonderful, happy family memories I also remember the memories of Sunday school Christmas programs. At one point in my life I was the tallest and had to stand in the back row behind everyone-I didn't like that very much. But I'm thankful that I learned at an early age the reason we celebrated Christmas. I knew that Jesus was not actually born on December 25th but that's the day that was chosen many, many years ago to celebrate his birth. I remember hearing the story of his birth over and over, read from the Bible. I still read it every year at this time. I can't remember when I didn't know the words to 'Away In A Manger' and 'Silent Night'. And when I became a mother, I sang 'Away In A Manger' as a lullaby to my children.
For me and my entire family.....Christmas is a time to be with family and friends but also a time to stop and remember that precious babe born in a stable all those many years ago.
*********************************
*********************************
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Guest Author 6
Guest Author #6
10 tips
Requested by a woman at the women's way conference. After asking me if I was a writer, she gave me a project in which she asked me to write down 10 things I would give as advice to someone going into 2012 homeless, as she works in advocacy with a variety of populations. I think it can apply to everyone.
1. YOU have value. Whether you know it or not - someone needs you and needs what you have to say and share.
2- Do not be afraid. It's hard but it will be ok
2- Smile - others need that and it will get you out of your head and affect another's life.
3- Listen just enough. Share what you must. Sift through the rest.
4- Sometimes things aren't fair or just. Sift, process and move through them. If you can - try to just be. Ck out 4a. .
4a. If it's not right, fair or just - you should probably try to enact that point.
5. Should be #1 - believe, because you can. Have faith.
6. Realize the value of your contributions. Just a smile goes a thousand miles.
7. Listen enough - but not too much. Trust your instincts.
8. You owe nothing to noone but yourself and your creator. Interpret that in your own way - you know.
9. Faith does move impertrenable mountains.
10. (borrowed) Don't think - just do it.
CM
--------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
10 tips
Requested by a woman at the women's way conference. After asking me if I was a writer, she gave me a project in which she asked me to write down 10 things I would give as advice to someone going into 2012 homeless, as she works in advocacy with a variety of populations. I think it can apply to everyone.
1. YOU have value. Whether you know it or not - someone needs you and needs what you have to say and share.
2- Do not be afraid. It's hard but it will be ok
2- Smile - others need that and it will get you out of your head and affect another's life.
3- Listen just enough. Share what you must. Sift through the rest.
4- Sometimes things aren't fair or just. Sift, process and move through them. If you can - try to just be. Ck out 4a. .
4a. If it's not right, fair or just - you should probably try to enact that point.
5. Should be #1 - believe, because you can. Have faith.
6. Realize the value of your contributions. Just a smile goes a thousand miles.
7. Listen enough - but not too much. Trust your instincts.
8. You owe nothing to noone but yourself and your creator. Interpret that in your own way - you know.
9. Faith does move impertrenable mountains.
10. (borrowed) Don't think - just do it.
CM
--------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you wish or associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Vagabondism 235
Vagabondism #235 "The best use of philosophy is to open doors and invite a walk in the garden of thought."
http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/
http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/
Windmills
To read a book for the first time is to make the acquaintance of a new friend, to read it a second time is to meet an old one.
Selwyn Champion
******************
Hello Ally
******************
In Giacomo Puccini's opera "La Boheme" there is a short but poignant aria in the last act. Colline is going off to sell his overcoat to buy some medicine for his roommate's girl friend, Mimi. He sings a farewell to his coat which has been his friend for years, with philosophers and poets living in its pockets. That sad aria has always had a special place in my heart.
Thank heaven I never had to sell my overcoat but when I lived in New York City I never went out without a book in my pocket. Most of the time in was "Don Quixote" by Cervantes. Even though I had read the book through, it was a pleasure to dip into it again at odd moments, waiting for a subway, or sitting at a table having lunch.
Sometimes it was a different book, but it was always and old friend. People who knew me knew there was always a book in my pocket and would sometimes ask what it was. "What's in the pocket, D.?"
An important book must be read more than once, even more than twice sometimes. Each time, like an old friend, it reveals more of its secrets, its mysteries and its love.
Now I'm retired, live alone and rarely go out. But when I do there's Aristotle's "De Anima" in my pocket. Otherwise I'm surrounded by books. I've never counted them but there must be over a hundred. They've all been read or partially read. I am surrounded by friends, new and old.
I still have that "Don Quixote." It's just over there, under "The Dead Sea Scrolls."
Dana Bate - The Vagabond
(Never Give Up)
*********************
Here you go.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you want or is associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Selwyn Champion
******************
Hello Ally
******************
In Giacomo Puccini's opera "La Boheme" there is a short but poignant aria in the last act. Colline is going off to sell his overcoat to buy some medicine for his roommate's girl friend, Mimi. He sings a farewell to his coat which has been his friend for years, with philosophers and poets living in its pockets. That sad aria has always had a special place in my heart.
Thank heaven I never had to sell my overcoat but when I lived in New York City I never went out without a book in my pocket. Most of the time in was "Don Quixote" by Cervantes. Even though I had read the book through, it was a pleasure to dip into it again at odd moments, waiting for a subway, or sitting at a table having lunch.
Sometimes it was a different book, but it was always and old friend. People who knew me knew there was always a book in my pocket and would sometimes ask what it was. "What's in the pocket, D.?"
An important book must be read more than once, even more than twice sometimes. Each time, like an old friend, it reveals more of its secrets, its mysteries and its love.
Now I'm retired, live alone and rarely go out. But when I do there's Aristotle's "De Anima" in my pocket. Otherwise I'm surrounded by books. I've never counted them but there must be over a hundred. They've all been read or partially read. I am surrounded by friends, new and old.
I still have that "Don Quixote." It's just over there, under "The Dead Sea Scrolls."
Dana Bate - The Vagabond
(Never Give Up)
*********************
Here you go.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you want or is associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Vagabondism 234
Vagabondism #234 "Come with me and let us try to find that time and place where nothing bad ever happens to anyone."
http://vagabondjottings.blogspot.com/
http://vagabondjottings.blogspot.com/
Guest Author 5
Guest Author #5
I've always wanted to write a blog, but somehow life always got (and continues to get) in the way. I "dabble" in poetry and some personal diary stuff, but mostly I keep my inner-most thoughts to myself (and my therapist of course). For me, life has been a roller coaster ride - I've been up, down and even sideways at times. Several years ago I was fortunate enough to get to know someone very special, and unfortunate enough to lose him to cancer. I wrote a little story about the relationship which I'd like to share here. It is called "Unhappily Ever After."
Once upon a time, in the vast reaches of cyberspace, two people reached out and found each other in a place both assured the other they had never visited - a chat room. They hit it off from the first word and became great e-mail friends. Both were married, neither wanting to cause any hurt to anyone, but both were missing something in their lives. They talked about everything - life, work, children, feelings, desires, hopes, dreams - anything that came to mind. The extraordinary distance between them (she in USA - he in Sydney, Australia) didn’t make a difference in the feelings they were beginning to have for each other. After a while, they shared personal information and real names, phone numbers, etc. were revealed. With the time difference, he was arriving at his office as she was ending her day - but nevertheless, he called her every day when he arrived at work, just to hear her voice and inquire about her day. They wrote letters, sent cards, photographs and an ongoing barrage of e-mails. They chatted often online - her just awake in the early morning hours of her time - him, tired and sleepy in the late night hours of his time. And their friendship began to grow into something stronger. In his job, he traveled a great deal all over the world. Finally, he had cause to come to the USA on business. They talked about it, planned for it and arranged to meet after his business was finished. She arranged a five day “business” trip and the plan was set. She was so nervous and anxious about this meeting and didn’t know quite how she would react. She was to pick him up at the airport when he flew in from New York and was there waiting with anticipation. When he came through the gate and looked at her with those incredible blue eyes and smiled - all nervousness disappeared and she instantly went into his arms. They spent five glorious days totally wrapped up in each other - talking, making love and laughing together - he laughing at her southern accent, she laughing at his British/Aussie accent. It was as if they had known each other forever. Over the next three years he made several more visits to be with her - and the relationship was perfect. While both felt guilty about the affair, they both knew that they had found something truly special. On his last visit he told her he had not been feeling very well and was going to have some medical tests when he returned home. They talked at length about both making major changes in their lives and turning their worlds upside down to be together forever. Both promised to give it very serious thought, although in their heart, both knew it would never happen. He returned home, underwent testing and his doctor began treating him for what he thought was the problem - inflammation of the spine, problems with his back, etc. After several months of treatment, he was no better so specialized testing was ordered (finally!!). On a dreary day in October he sent her an e-mail to say he had a “large dose of cancer in his pancreas,” it had spread to his liver and was inoperable…. and she cried - alone - as she had told no one of the affair. A few days later he called her and they both cried. He was to begin chemo immediately, and it was decided that it was time he take someone into his confidence about the affair, someone who would keep her informed if he ever became too ill to contact her. So he told his long-time friend about her and how important she was to him. And the battle against the cancer began. He began the chemo and through all the sickness from it, he tried to continue to work part-time just to keep some form of normality in his life. He called and e-mailed when he was up to it, but he was continuing to grow weaker. She prayed, sent him “love and strength vibes” to help him get through it - he told her he would think about her and feel her in his arms to help take his mind off the terrible pain. She took long walks - found a nature trail she loved - a place of solitude to be alone, to cry and to think about this man she loved so dearly - as she had no one she could talk to about him. By March the doctors had told him that the chemo was not working and the tumor was continuing to grow. They gave him only weeks to live. He called her, they talked a long time, neither knowing that it would be the last time they would speak. A few days later he sent what would be his last e-mail, telling her of his love for her, asking her to always smell the roses and think of him and letting her know he would be in touch again soon - either personally or through his friend. By the following week he was bedridden and very ill. His friend visited him often and then called her with reports of his condition and she would send her love. Finally, in late May, the friend called her to say her beloved had died at 1:00 a.m. that morning - she was devastated, couldn’t control her tears. She made excuses at her work of feeling sick and left for the day - to go to her place of solitude and weep. For she knew, that although she was dying inside, she had to maintain a normal appearance at her job and at home. The friend called her every day for the next few days just to make sure she was o.k. - she said she was fine, that she was glad his pain had ended, and she would always love him. She had to find her own way of grieving and dealing with her pain that was eating away at her - as she thought about it, she thought of their “roses” conversations and how appropriate that would be - so she began to always keep fresh roses on her desk, to remind her of him and to remind her to keep her promise to make time in her life to “smell the roses” and make time for herself. They sit next to a little sign she made that says “Don’t cry because it is over. Smile because it happened.” She closes her eyes, remembers his smile and is comforted by its warmth. The friend still calls her from time to time - he promised he would always do that - just to inquire about how she is doing and to see if she needs anything - and she is thankful for this. She has moved on with her life now, but this man she loved is always a part of her, in her heart and often on her mind. She knows how very lucky she was - to have found that one true soulmate in her life and to have loved him so dearly, if only a little while………………and she lived unhappily ever after.
***************************************************
***************************************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
I've always wanted to write a blog, but somehow life always got (and continues to get) in the way. I "dabble" in poetry and some personal diary stuff, but mostly I keep my inner-most thoughts to myself (and my therapist of course). For me, life has been a roller coaster ride - I've been up, down and even sideways at times. Several years ago I was fortunate enough to get to know someone very special, and unfortunate enough to lose him to cancer. I wrote a little story about the relationship which I'd like to share here. It is called "Unhappily Ever After."
Once upon a time, in the vast reaches of cyberspace, two people reached out and found each other in a place both assured the other they had never visited - a chat room. They hit it off from the first word and became great e-mail friends. Both were married, neither wanting to cause any hurt to anyone, but both were missing something in their lives. They talked about everything - life, work, children, feelings, desires, hopes, dreams - anything that came to mind. The extraordinary distance between them (she in USA - he in Sydney, Australia) didn’t make a difference in the feelings they were beginning to have for each other. After a while, they shared personal information and real names, phone numbers, etc. were revealed. With the time difference, he was arriving at his office as she was ending her day - but nevertheless, he called her every day when he arrived at work, just to hear her voice and inquire about her day. They wrote letters, sent cards, photographs and an ongoing barrage of e-mails. They chatted often online - her just awake in the early morning hours of her time - him, tired and sleepy in the late night hours of his time. And their friendship began to grow into something stronger. In his job, he traveled a great deal all over the world. Finally, he had cause to come to the USA on business. They talked about it, planned for it and arranged to meet after his business was finished. She arranged a five day “business” trip and the plan was set. She was so nervous and anxious about this meeting and didn’t know quite how she would react. She was to pick him up at the airport when he flew in from New York and was there waiting with anticipation. When he came through the gate and looked at her with those incredible blue eyes and smiled - all nervousness disappeared and she instantly went into his arms. They spent five glorious days totally wrapped up in each other - talking, making love and laughing together - he laughing at her southern accent, she laughing at his British/Aussie accent. It was as if they had known each other forever. Over the next three years he made several more visits to be with her - and the relationship was perfect. While both felt guilty about the affair, they both knew that they had found something truly special. On his last visit he told her he had not been feeling very well and was going to have some medical tests when he returned home. They talked at length about both making major changes in their lives and turning their worlds upside down to be together forever. Both promised to give it very serious thought, although in their heart, both knew it would never happen. He returned home, underwent testing and his doctor began treating him for what he thought was the problem - inflammation of the spine, problems with his back, etc. After several months of treatment, he was no better so specialized testing was ordered (finally!!). On a dreary day in October he sent her an e-mail to say he had a “large dose of cancer in his pancreas,” it had spread to his liver and was inoperable…. and she cried - alone - as she had told no one of the affair. A few days later he called her and they both cried. He was to begin chemo immediately, and it was decided that it was time he take someone into his confidence about the affair, someone who would keep her informed if he ever became too ill to contact her. So he told his long-time friend about her and how important she was to him. And the battle against the cancer began. He began the chemo and through all the sickness from it, he tried to continue to work part-time just to keep some form of normality in his life. He called and e-mailed when he was up to it, but he was continuing to grow weaker. She prayed, sent him “love and strength vibes” to help him get through it - he told her he would think about her and feel her in his arms to help take his mind off the terrible pain. She took long walks - found a nature trail she loved - a place of solitude to be alone, to cry and to think about this man she loved so dearly - as she had no one she could talk to about him. By March the doctors had told him that the chemo was not working and the tumor was continuing to grow. They gave him only weeks to live. He called her, they talked a long time, neither knowing that it would be the last time they would speak. A few days later he sent what would be his last e-mail, telling her of his love for her, asking her to always smell the roses and think of him and letting her know he would be in touch again soon - either personally or through his friend. By the following week he was bedridden and very ill. His friend visited him often and then called her with reports of his condition and she would send her love. Finally, in late May, the friend called her to say her beloved had died at 1:00 a.m. that morning - she was devastated, couldn’t control her tears. She made excuses at her work of feeling sick and left for the day - to go to her place of solitude and weep. For she knew, that although she was dying inside, she had to maintain a normal appearance at her job and at home. The friend called her every day for the next few days just to make sure she was o.k. - she said she was fine, that she was glad his pain had ended, and she would always love him. She had to find her own way of grieving and dealing with her pain that was eating away at her - as she thought about it, she thought of their “roses” conversations and how appropriate that would be - so she began to always keep fresh roses on her desk, to remind her of him and to remind her to keep her promise to make time in her life to “smell the roses” and make time for herself. They sit next to a little sign she made that says “Don’t cry because it is over. Smile because it happened.” She closes her eyes, remembers his smile and is comforted by its warmth. The friend still calls her from time to time - he promised he would always do that - just to inquire about how she is doing and to see if she needs anything - and she is thankful for this. She has moved on with her life now, but this man she loved is always a part of her, in her heart and often on her mind. She knows how very lucky she was - to have found that one true soulmate in her life and to have loved him so dearly, if only a little while………………and she lived unhappily ever after.
***************************************************
***************************************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Guest Author 4
Guest Author #4
Christmas…………………….
I remember when Christmas was a fuzzy feeling that started around the beginning of December and warmed its’ way through all the days of the holiday season. I looked so forward to Christmas, not for the presents, but for the chance to be outside in the snow. I could barely wait for the last day of classes when we got to exchange small gifts and bring our lunch to school and then freedom for about ten days. Where I am from, there was always snow and all of the kids would head down to the park and toboggan all day and half the night. No fancy waterproof clothing then, you just layered on what you had and went home soaking wet. Sometimes we skated on the rink the neighbour had made and there was always a game of hockey being played on the street. The Christmas tree in those days was a real one that had been freshly cut. I loved the bubble lights and the angel on top and all the pretty balls and tinsel. The tree smelled wonderful. Whenever I heard the song “You better watch out, you better not cry…..Santa Claus is coming to town” I took that to be a warning and I would never want to be on Santa’s naughty list. I am sure I believed in the magic of Santa Claus till I was about ten or eleven years old, and even then I was very careful about not believing, just in case he was real.
My mother was from Scotland where Christmas took a back seat to First Night. She did not celebrate Christmas with fancy foods and cookies. The recollections I have are of seeing chocolates in the crystal dish, and the scintillating smell of Japanese mandarin Oranges. Those, in themselves, meant Christmas to me and still do even if they are available year round. Christmas dinner was a turkey and Grandma came down for that as she lived only a few miles away. No other family close and no company so we were always free to be outside with the neighbourhood kids and we took advantage of that.
I do not remember specific gifts that I got for Christmas except for the one year I got a bride doll, but we had only a few gifts and were thankful for what we got. They really were not that important and we never presented our parents with long, greedy lists. It would never have occurred to us to do that. We were always excited about the time we got to spend outside with our friends and free from having to go to school.
Christmas now seems to start about the end of August with the arrival of the first Christmas catalogues. By mid October the commercials are starting and the day after American Thanksgiving all hell breaks loose and we are bombarded with ads and pleas to buy this or that for our loved ones. People run around in a frenzy driving themselves into the poor house trying to keep up with what their children have on their Christmas wish list. It has become commercial insanity and the meaning has been so diluted as to render it meaningless. Somewhere in there was a message that a baby was born in a manger, but that barely rates a mention these days.
Now Christmas can be a sad time thinking of friends and family who are no longer here to celebrate with us and makes the lonely feel even more lonely. For many years I worked on Christmas Day, and another time when I had the day off, I had one of the nicest Christmases ever all by myself.
I do think more of the Winter Solstice and the celebration of Yule. The longest night of the year in deepest, darkest December. I enjoy hearing about the pagan rituals from which many of our Christmas traditions are founded. I do enjoy the lights and the special displays. A million Christmas lights can illuminate the December darkness so beautifully.
I used to enjoy the warm blanket of Christmas spirit that wrapped itself around us and when people always seemed to be a little nicer to one another. Not so easy to come by today and the holiday season does not always bring out the best in us. Christmas seems to have changed from a season of fun and festivity to one of obligation and dread and a nightmare to weary people already too busy trying to keep up with life.
It has been said that nothing is sadder in this world than waking up Christmas morning and not being a child. Sometimes we have to find the child within us to rediscover the magic and spirit of Christmas.
My wish for you is that you can find the magic and spirit of the holiday season and that we can all be of good cheer to one another.
pacifica62
*****************************************
*****************************************
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Christmas…………………….
I remember when Christmas was a fuzzy feeling that started around the beginning of December and warmed its’ way through all the days of the holiday season. I looked so forward to Christmas, not for the presents, but for the chance to be outside in the snow. I could barely wait for the last day of classes when we got to exchange small gifts and bring our lunch to school and then freedom for about ten days. Where I am from, there was always snow and all of the kids would head down to the park and toboggan all day and half the night. No fancy waterproof clothing then, you just layered on what you had and went home soaking wet. Sometimes we skated on the rink the neighbour had made and there was always a game of hockey being played on the street. The Christmas tree in those days was a real one that had been freshly cut. I loved the bubble lights and the angel on top and all the pretty balls and tinsel. The tree smelled wonderful. Whenever I heard the song “You better watch out, you better not cry…..Santa Claus is coming to town” I took that to be a warning and I would never want to be on Santa’s naughty list. I am sure I believed in the magic of Santa Claus till I was about ten or eleven years old, and even then I was very careful about not believing, just in case he was real.
My mother was from Scotland where Christmas took a back seat to First Night. She did not celebrate Christmas with fancy foods and cookies. The recollections I have are of seeing chocolates in the crystal dish, and the scintillating smell of Japanese mandarin Oranges. Those, in themselves, meant Christmas to me and still do even if they are available year round. Christmas dinner was a turkey and Grandma came down for that as she lived only a few miles away. No other family close and no company so we were always free to be outside with the neighbourhood kids and we took advantage of that.
I do not remember specific gifts that I got for Christmas except for the one year I got a bride doll, but we had only a few gifts and were thankful for what we got. They really were not that important and we never presented our parents with long, greedy lists. It would never have occurred to us to do that. We were always excited about the time we got to spend outside with our friends and free from having to go to school.
Christmas now seems to start about the end of August with the arrival of the first Christmas catalogues. By mid October the commercials are starting and the day after American Thanksgiving all hell breaks loose and we are bombarded with ads and pleas to buy this or that for our loved ones. People run around in a frenzy driving themselves into the poor house trying to keep up with what their children have on their Christmas wish list. It has become commercial insanity and the meaning has been so diluted as to render it meaningless. Somewhere in there was a message that a baby was born in a manger, but that barely rates a mention these days.
Now Christmas can be a sad time thinking of friends and family who are no longer here to celebrate with us and makes the lonely feel even more lonely. For many years I worked on Christmas Day, and another time when I had the day off, I had one of the nicest Christmases ever all by myself.
I do think more of the Winter Solstice and the celebration of Yule. The longest night of the year in deepest, darkest December. I enjoy hearing about the pagan rituals from which many of our Christmas traditions are founded. I do enjoy the lights and the special displays. A million Christmas lights can illuminate the December darkness so beautifully.
I used to enjoy the warm blanket of Christmas spirit that wrapped itself around us and when people always seemed to be a little nicer to one another. Not so easy to come by today and the holiday season does not always bring out the best in us. Christmas seems to have changed from a season of fun and festivity to one of obligation and dread and a nightmare to weary people already too busy trying to keep up with life.
It has been said that nothing is sadder in this world than waking up Christmas morning and not being a child. Sometimes we have to find the child within us to rediscover the magic and spirit of Christmas.
My wish for you is that you can find the magic and spirit of the holiday season and that we can all be of good cheer to one another.
pacifica62
*****************************************
*****************************************
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Monday, December 12, 2011
Guest Author 3
Guest Author #3
At this late stage of my life, between 50 and death (stolen from Vera in "Auntie Mame") I am still searching for my purpose. I know what I love: children, family, performing, baking,and doing what I can to ease some fellow creature's pain. I believe we are all connected and we are here for each other. I am not a fan of the Republican Party as it shows itself to be without compassion for those without resources. I could ramble on and on about the injustices in the world but then I begin to bore myself.
Thank you, Dana. I do enjoy reading your essays.
***********************************
***********************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
At this late stage of my life, between 50 and death (stolen from Vera in "Auntie Mame") I am still searching for my purpose. I know what I love: children, family, performing, baking,and doing what I can to ease some fellow creature's pain. I believe we are all connected and we are here for each other. I am not a fan of the Republican Party as it shows itself to be without compassion for those without resources. I could ramble on and on about the injustices in the world but then I begin to bore myself.
Thank you, Dana. I do enjoy reading your essays.
***********************************
***********************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
DB
***************************
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Vagabondism 233
Vagabondism #233 "What some call foolishness, others call courage."
http://tinyurl.com/6xvgzz8
http://tinyurl.com/6xvgzz8
5 Steps To Freedom
You really have to look inside yourself and find your own inner strength and say, "I'm proud of what I am and who I am, and I'm just going to be myself."
Mariah Carey
*******************
Hello Sandy
*********************
Knowing yourself is often a hard task and quite tricky, particularly if you've been surrounded by people who have pummeled into a pulp your self respect by constant criticism and harping on your faults. On the other hand it can also be difficult for one has been constantly and inappropriate approved of. In either case self knowledge is one of life's direst necessities.
Mariah Carey has spelled out 5 rules for the journey of self discovery and personal self approval.
1. Look inside yourself. We can spend a lot of time, a lot of wasted time, worrying about how we appear to others. The effort involved in that expenditure is strong enough to take our thoughts completely away from how we do look to others and how we appear to ourselves. When you look in the mirror what do you see? Is my make up on right? Is my beard trimmed? How does my hair look? Should I wear this tie? Next time look at yourself in the eyes and work to see the person behind the hair and the tie. That person is there, waiting to be your friend.
2. Find your inner strength. I recently had a conversatin with a woman who was trying to research the causes for everything that she felt was wrong with her. I suggested that instead she should look into the reasons behind everything she felt was right about her and develop those. We can waste more time and effort facing our faults day after day. You're not perfect? So what? It's the good things, the right things, that keep us going.
3. Be proud of what your are. What are you, a scientist, an artist, a teacher, an athlete, a builder, a cleaner, a mother, a husband, an astronaut? Whatever it is you have a right to be proud of your place in the world. Shakespeare wrote, "There's place and means for every man alive." Take your place and perform your tasks with self satisfaction and pay no attention to the negatives.
4. Be proud of who you are. Now that you have become acquainted with the being in the mirror, groomed yourself to your own specifications and learned to proudly take your place and perform with pride your functions in the world, you realize that you are more than the face, more than the clothes and bigger than the job, no matter what it is. You are a remarkable creature, a human being, like no other on Earth. As time goes by you discover more and more about yourself. Ignore the regrets. John Cage said "We need not destroy the past. It is gone." Today is the day to live, and the future is the day to think about. The more goodness, success, fulfillment and joy you can find about yourself the more you have to be proud of.
5. Be yourself. In my unfortunate childhood I was the subject of resentment for being who I was. I learned to put up a front, a facade, in order to minimize the criticisms and scorn I was getting. There was no looking earnestly at myself in the mirror until years later. Succumbing to the world's opinions or even what you think those opinions might be robs you of the freedom to be yourself. Picking off of yourself all the false labels and cleaning yourself of the left over glue of a life of pretenses and avoidances is one of the healthiest things a person can do for themselves. Of all the freedoms we have a right to one of the mightiest is the freedom to be ourselves.
Thank you Marih
DB - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
****************************
Mariah Carey
*******************
Hello Sandy
*********************
Knowing yourself is often a hard task and quite tricky, particularly if you've been surrounded by people who have pummeled into a pulp your self respect by constant criticism and harping on your faults. On the other hand it can also be difficult for one has been constantly and inappropriate approved of. In either case self knowledge is one of life's direst necessities.
Mariah Carey has spelled out 5 rules for the journey of self discovery and personal self approval.
1. Look inside yourself. We can spend a lot of time, a lot of wasted time, worrying about how we appear to others. The effort involved in that expenditure is strong enough to take our thoughts completely away from how we do look to others and how we appear to ourselves. When you look in the mirror what do you see? Is my make up on right? Is my beard trimmed? How does my hair look? Should I wear this tie? Next time look at yourself in the eyes and work to see the person behind the hair and the tie. That person is there, waiting to be your friend.
2. Find your inner strength. I recently had a conversatin with a woman who was trying to research the causes for everything that she felt was wrong with her. I suggested that instead she should look into the reasons behind everything she felt was right about her and develop those. We can waste more time and effort facing our faults day after day. You're not perfect? So what? It's the good things, the right things, that keep us going.
3. Be proud of what your are. What are you, a scientist, an artist, a teacher, an athlete, a builder, a cleaner, a mother, a husband, an astronaut? Whatever it is you have a right to be proud of your place in the world. Shakespeare wrote, "There's place and means for every man alive." Take your place and perform your tasks with self satisfaction and pay no attention to the negatives.
4. Be proud of who you are. Now that you have become acquainted with the being in the mirror, groomed yourself to your own specifications and learned to proudly take your place and perform with pride your functions in the world, you realize that you are more than the face, more than the clothes and bigger than the job, no matter what it is. You are a remarkable creature, a human being, like no other on Earth. As time goes by you discover more and more about yourself. Ignore the regrets. John Cage said "We need not destroy the past. It is gone." Today is the day to live, and the future is the day to think about. The more goodness, success, fulfillment and joy you can find about yourself the more you have to be proud of.
5. Be yourself. In my unfortunate childhood I was the subject of resentment for being who I was. I learned to put up a front, a facade, in order to minimize the criticisms and scorn I was getting. There was no looking earnestly at myself in the mirror until years later. Succumbing to the world's opinions or even what you think those opinions might be robs you of the freedom to be yourself. Picking off of yourself all the false labels and cleaning yourself of the left over glue of a life of pretenses and avoidances is one of the healthiest things a person can do for themselves. Of all the freedoms we have a right to one of the mightiest is the freedom to be ourselves.
Thank you Marih
DB - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
****************************
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Vagabondism 232
Vagabondism #232 "Anyone who can laugh at another creature’s suffering had better be prepared to laugh at his own."
dbdacoba@aol.com
dbdacoba@aol.com
Find The Right Tone
I've only been doing this for fifty-four years. With a little experience, I might get better.
Harry Caray
********************
Hello Kate
********************
I once heard an interview with a famous world class violinist who was about to start off on his farewell tour of concerts around Europe and America. The interviewer asked him what he was going to do in his retirement and the musician answered that he was going to work on his intonation.
That may sound at first like a frivolous thing to do in one's retirement. No golf, no fishing, no traveling, no watching TV, no snoozing on the back porch? But intonation is a very important and complicated thing for a musician, and particularly for a violinist for whom the change from one tone to another may be a slight movement of his finger on the string.
Intonation isn't just a matter of playing the right tone. It has to take into consideration the other tones around it. and how it effects those tones by it's harmonic scale. Every tone produces a series of overtones which vibrate in unison with it. Those overtones have an effect on the rest of the scale. A single tone also has to be considered for it's place in a melody or a chord. Intonation is an important study. It is something a musician could spend his whole life thinking about and working with. A single tone has a life of it's own, Two tones together are the beginning of a melody. Three tones together make a chord. A tone is the raw material of music.
Other artists have building tools and raw materials that are similarly vital to their work. A painter may make a vast number of exciting works but now and then he is back at the basics of drawing, trying to get the line (the tone) right, to see better, to articulate better.
Retirement doesn't just suddenly remove an artist from these considerations. Even if the book is put on the shelf to gather dust, the contents of the book are still in the artist's imagination, orbiting around his consciousness. I think I have learned a lot about acting in the past ten years during which I have done no performing. There is more to know than I will ever know.
"What are you doing in your retirement, Dana?"
"I'm still learning my lines."
---------------------------------------
Dana Bate - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
******************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
So far I've only received 2 entries from guest authors. If I don't receive more than that I will withdraw this invitation on December !5th and get on with my life.
DB
***************************
Harry Caray
********************
Hello Kate
********************
I once heard an interview with a famous world class violinist who was about to start off on his farewell tour of concerts around Europe and America. The interviewer asked him what he was going to do in his retirement and the musician answered that he was going to work on his intonation.
That may sound at first like a frivolous thing to do in one's retirement. No golf, no fishing, no traveling, no watching TV, no snoozing on the back porch? But intonation is a very important and complicated thing for a musician, and particularly for a violinist for whom the change from one tone to another may be a slight movement of his finger on the string.
Intonation isn't just a matter of playing the right tone. It has to take into consideration the other tones around it. and how it effects those tones by it's harmonic scale. Every tone produces a series of overtones which vibrate in unison with it. Those overtones have an effect on the rest of the scale. A single tone also has to be considered for it's place in a melody or a chord. Intonation is an important study. It is something a musician could spend his whole life thinking about and working with. A single tone has a life of it's own, Two tones together are the beginning of a melody. Three tones together make a chord. A tone is the raw material of music.
Other artists have building tools and raw materials that are similarly vital to their work. A painter may make a vast number of exciting works but now and then he is back at the basics of drawing, trying to get the line (the tone) right, to see better, to articulate better.
Retirement doesn't just suddenly remove an artist from these considerations. Even if the book is put on the shelf to gather dust, the contents of the book are still in the artist's imagination, orbiting around his consciousness. I think I have learned a lot about acting in the past ten years during which I have done no performing. There is more to know than I will ever know.
"What are you doing in your retirement, Dana?"
"I'm still learning my lines."
---------------------------------------
Dana Bate - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up
******************************
Look here.
This is an invitation for anyone and everyone to post a entry of their own on my journal, Vagabond Journeys http://vagabondjourneys.blogspot.com/.
The end of the year holidays are soon upon us and since it is a time for celebrations, remembrances, resolutions and plans for the future I know that people have a lot to say.
Not to take away from the postings on your journals, but to add to the joy of my own celebrations is why I invite you to write for mine.
I want to read what your thoughts are about this magical time of the year. This invitation is open to everyone: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Pagans, Agnostics, Atheists and the Uncertain.
Tell me your thoughts on Chanukah, Christmas, Ashura, Kwanzaa, the Winter Solstice, New Years Eve. or any subject you associate with this holiday season.
There are no limits in regard to length. The only limitation is that, for reasons so far unexplained to me, my blog does not take photographs, animations, videos or pictures of any kind. I deal in words.
Please accept my invitation. Send your entry to my email address dbdacoba@aol.com I will copy and paste it into my journal and it will be displayed promptly. You may sign your name or not as you wish, and you may leave a link to your blog or your email or not, as you wish. I will do NO editing or censoring. Eloquence is not necessary, mind or heart or both is all.
All are welcome. Admission is free.
So far I've only received 2 entries from guest authors. If I don't receive more than that I will withdraw this invitation on December !5th and get on with my life.
DB
***************************
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