Face the winds and walk the good road to the day of quiet.
Black Elk
******************
Hello Ernie
******************
I know an actress named Emily who says that her daily prayer is "God, give me peace." I can relate to that. Oh, how I yearn for the quiet day. My heart, my mind and my whole being hopes of the day when the vultures spread their wings and fly off, when the vipers slip silently back into their holes, and when the catalogue of my mistakes is flung into the fire to help warm the cold night of winter. I yearn for the end of sorrow. I long for the repair of my broken heart and the gathering up of broken dreams.
I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone
I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
When the city sleepsAnd
I'm the only one and I walk alone
(Al Dubin/Harry Warren)
I walk alone but try to stay on the good road at last. I hope for the biting winds of winter to become the gentle breeze that clears my spirit. To have a sweet person bring me Christmas dinner on a freezing cold December night and then to learn that the sweetness was a lie and the person a deceiver is a breaking of the heart. The love I still have for that person keeps me on the good road.
Walk in the way of good men, and keep the paths of the righteous. (Proverbs 2:20)
To be unable to do the work I love because of where I live is a breaking of the dream, but my heart still holds the hope that I will step upon a stage again one day. I walk alone with that hope clutched in my heart.
The good road is a lonely one and I have to keep checking the signs to see that I stay on it. But through all the sorrow, fear, noise, pain, scorn, disappointment, discouragement, loss and failure, I still walk the road believing that there will be at last a day of quiet.
Dana Bate - Vagabond Journeys
Never Give Up************************
SUMMER QUESTION
I recently received a peck on the cheek from two members of the female persuasion. Besides those I haven't experienced a real kiss in many, many years. I have no flowers. There is nothing growing outside, no trees, no bushes, no flowers, just a few pathetic weeds here and there. That, thankfully, does a lot to discourage the mosquito population, but it doesn't give me much in the way of flora. So I pose this question for those of you who have more experience in these matters.
-------------------------------------------------
Which is more important, a flower or a kiss? Why?
dbdacoba@aol.com
Thank you.
Showing posts with label alone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alone. Show all posts
Friday, July 6, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Talk To Me
What a lovely surprise to finally discover how unlovely being alone can be.
Ellen Burstyn
*******************
Hello Stuart
*******************
My God, I need a friend !! (Oh, I said that already.)
Being alone is not just a matter of not having someone else around.
I have a room with music playing (Tannhauser at the moment), a couple of comfortable chairs and three windows. I have another room with a very large sofa, a table, a chair and two windows. I have a big kitchen with a table to sit around and three more windows. I have a nice big porch with a table and chairs, not much of a view but there is a wind chime and usually a refreshing breeze. I have a library of books and paintings spread out all over. I am all set up to receive visitors.
My apartment is a mess. The bed isn't made, there's stuff on the chairs, the books are stacked up in no particular order, there are paintings blocking some of the windows, the living room table is covered with litter, the kitchen table is pushed against the wall, the dishes aren't washed and I hardly ever go out on the porch. Why? Because no one visits me.
MY one friend Linda lives several towns away. Sometimes its weeks before I see her, and then it's usually business, not a social call.
I live alone, and sometimes I am alone. I'm not alone when I'm writing, like right now. But after I"ve written and edited this, I will put it on the "mail waiting to be sent" file where it will sit (until it's time to post it). And then my aloneness will echo from the walls.
I live in a world of ideas, but the ideas only go one way, out.
I read other people's journals and I get the same feeling, an attempt to communicate out to a nameless void, ideas going out from an aloneness. There is no doubt the Internet is a great boon for the human race, but its bad side is the abatement of real conversation. Some of my best memories are those times in the theatre when cast and crew get together between performances or on a break and converse. I miss that very much.
Where are the discussions? In school everything is computerized. In church one guy does all the talking. In Congress they just insult each other. In city council people talk just to hear themselves. TV interviews are just questions and answers.
I will never forget a discussion I had one evening about the creative process with three other artists. I spoke only English, one woman spoke English and Greek, one woman spoke Greek and French and the other man only spoke French. Everything had to be said 2 or 3 times. Those ideas got a real workout and I came away from it with knowledge.
Are people afraid of ideas, afraid of expressing them, afraid of having their ideas challenged, or accepted and improved on, or put with another idea creating a third one?
It's unlovely and unhealthy for a person to chew on his own thoughts all day simply because he is alone. Fortunately I have books to challenge and improve my thinking. They are filled with ideas, but I have no one to discuss them with.
Maybe I'll just play solitaire.
----------------------------------
DB - Vagabond
Never give up.
**********************
Ellen Burstyn
*******************
Hello Stuart
*******************
My God, I need a friend !! (Oh, I said that already.)
Being alone is not just a matter of not having someone else around.
I have a room with music playing (Tannhauser at the moment), a couple of comfortable chairs and three windows. I have another room with a very large sofa, a table, a chair and two windows. I have a big kitchen with a table to sit around and three more windows. I have a nice big porch with a table and chairs, not much of a view but there is a wind chime and usually a refreshing breeze. I have a library of books and paintings spread out all over. I am all set up to receive visitors.
My apartment is a mess. The bed isn't made, there's stuff on the chairs, the books are stacked up in no particular order, there are paintings blocking some of the windows, the living room table is covered with litter, the kitchen table is pushed against the wall, the dishes aren't washed and I hardly ever go out on the porch. Why? Because no one visits me.
MY one friend Linda lives several towns away. Sometimes its weeks before I see her, and then it's usually business, not a social call.
I live alone, and sometimes I am alone. I'm not alone when I'm writing, like right now. But after I"ve written and edited this, I will put it on the "mail waiting to be sent" file where it will sit (until it's time to post it). And then my aloneness will echo from the walls.
I live in a world of ideas, but the ideas only go one way, out.
I read other people's journals and I get the same feeling, an attempt to communicate out to a nameless void, ideas going out from an aloneness. There is no doubt the Internet is a great boon for the human race, but its bad side is the abatement of real conversation. Some of my best memories are those times in the theatre when cast and crew get together between performances or on a break and converse. I miss that very much.
Where are the discussions? In school everything is computerized. In church one guy does all the talking. In Congress they just insult each other. In city council people talk just to hear themselves. TV interviews are just questions and answers.
I will never forget a discussion I had one evening about the creative process with three other artists. I spoke only English, one woman spoke English and Greek, one woman spoke Greek and French and the other man only spoke French. Everything had to be said 2 or 3 times. Those ideas got a real workout and I came away from it with knowledge.
Are people afraid of ideas, afraid of expressing them, afraid of having their ideas challenged, or accepted and improved on, or put with another idea creating a third one?
It's unlovely and unhealthy for a person to chew on his own thoughts all day simply because he is alone. Fortunately I have books to challenge and improve my thinking. They are filled with ideas, but I have no one to discuss them with.
Maybe I'll just play solitaire.
----------------------------------
DB - Vagabond
Never give up.
**********************
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